It is the white Plum Tree
Seven days fair
As a bride goes combing
Her joy of hair.
As a peacock dowered
with golden eyes
Ten paces over
The Orange lies.
It is the white Plum Tree
Her passion tells
As a young maid rustling,
She so excels.
The birds run outward
The birds are low.
Whispering in manna
The sweethearts go.
It is the white Plum Tree
Seven days fair
As a bride goes combing
Her joy of hair.
John Shaw Neilson
Spring blossom makes me want to sing and chant all those lovely poems I learnt as a child.
John Shaw Neilson's poems are very singable. He's one of my favourite poets, a local Victorian, always a poor man - often working on the roads. His poems seem simple but grow richer and stranger as you reread them
.
Spring blossom makes me want to sing and chant all those lovely poems I learnt as a child.
John Shaw Neilson's poems are very singable. He's one of my favourite poets, a local Victorian, always a poor man - often working on the roads. His poems seem simple but grow richer and stranger as you reread them
.
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