The hawthorn whitens

From the moist meadow to the withered hill. 
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs ; 
And swells, and deepens, to the cherish’d eye. 
The hawthorn whitens ; and the juicy groves 
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees

Photo: A hawthorn in flower in Fen Ditton
Hipstamatic Tintype


Naomi said…
Lovely, both the poem and the photo.
Dear Naomi, Thank you.

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