With twisted limb and fissured bark,
she joins me in my reverdie.
With shoots and leaves
of brightest green,
diverts me from etourderie.
And in the hedgerow taory, wild.
She never casts a clout.
Til licked by glisk and flosculous,
at last, the May is out!
A frothy mass of Blossom white,
No fear of afterwinter chills,
The hedgerow afternoonifield,
floats like sundust o'er the hills.