The Awthorn

I love the awthorn well
The first green thing
In woods & hedges—black thorn dell
Dashed with its green first spring
When sallows shine in golden sheen
These white thorn places in the black how green
How beautifully green
Though March has but begun
To tend primroses planted in the sun
The roots thats further in
Are not begun to bud or may be just begun
I love the white thorn bough
Hung over the mole hill
Where the spring feeding cow
Rubs off the dew drop chill
When on the cowslip pips & glossy thorn
The dews hang shining pearls at early morn