'Spring Song, Meirionydd'

A white combustion rules these fields,
and testifies to men, and rams;
the mind of winter thaws, and yields--
Great God, the world is drunk with lambs.

The high grey stone is clean of snows,
the streams come tumbling, far from dams;
the wind is green, the day's eye grows--
Great God, the world is drunk with lambs.

The heart, gone light as all the ewes,
redounds with milk, and epigrams
that make no sense; except their news--
Great God, the world is drunk with lambs.

In gold October, grown to size,
they'll know the hook, and hang with hams,
but March is all their enterprise--
Great God, the world is drunk with lambs.

	-- John Dressel