The gardens sing in emerald voices, Where petals beckon the passing day, And each bud, a promise of beauty, Casts longing shadows that sway.

Trees dress in coats of bright glory, Gentle rustlings speak of their kin, Crickets croon their nightly choruses, As dusk paints the world in soft linens.

In the distance, a river glimmers, Her stories flow beneath silver light, While stars ignite thoughts of nature, Caught in the embrace of the night.

• Stephen Spender