April Rise. If ever I saw blessing in the air, I see it now, in this still early day. where Lemon-Green and vaporous, Morning drips, wet Sunlight on the powder of my eye. Blown Bubble-film of Blue, The sky wraps round, weeds of warm light, Whose every root and rod, splutters with soapy Green, and all the world sweats with the bead of summer, in it's bud. If ever I heard blessing, it is there, where Birds in trees, that shoals and shadows. are splash, with their hidden wings, and drops of sound, break on my ears. their creks of throbbing air. Pure in the Haze, the emerald sun dilates, The lips of Sparrows, milk the mossy stones, while white as water by the lake, a girl swims her green hands, among the gathered swans. Now, as the almond, burns it's smoking wick, dropping small flames, to light the candled grass. Now as my low Blood scales it's second chance, If ever world were bless'ed now it is.