Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE HAWTHORN TREE IN YORK LANE, by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE HAWTHORN TREE IN YORK LANE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: The thought of it comes to my mind
Last Line: Brimful of sussex airs.
Subject(s): Hawthorn


THE thought of it comes to my mind,
As through the town I go,
And all the houses slip behind
To let my hawthorn blow.
The little lads troop through the grass
To fill their hands with bloom;
A single petal in a glass
Makes Sussex in a room.
Kinless and strange on the road's edge,
Such art its blossoms hold,
The sprawling fence becomes a hedge,
The new world is the old.
Who walks at dusk in green York Lane,
A certain week of May,
Hears music pour and pour again
Down that enchanted way.
He knows the nightingale is out,
Singing in the old wise;
While white as morning all about,
A hundred thorn-trees rise.
There in York Lane it blows and blows;
And I am stripped of cares;
One thought of it, and the town grows
Brimful of Sussex airs.






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