Roger Hadden - The Waking

I strolled across
An open field;
The sun was out;
Heat was happy.

This way! this way!
The wren's throat shimmered,
Either to other,
The blossoms sang.

The stones sang,
The little ones did,
And flowers jumped
Like small goats.

A ragged fringe
Of daisies waved;
I was not alone
In a grove of apples.

Far in the wood
A nestling sighed;
The dew loosened
Its morning smells.

Roger Hadden

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-waking-2/