The primrose bank was April sun.
Beneath a hawthorn, robin rich,
With sad, sweet, dappled songs of light,
The primrose bank was every spring.
And every spring the petals poured
Their golden cadence gleaned from years,
From melodies of pastel tints,
From wood, to beck, to changing skies.
The verses flick rebirths of time,
Their delicate and shuttling lines
Which called on rains to fill their voice:
And voices filled, and sun rejoined.
The primrose bank is life to you,
The robin’s song is always new.
Gavin R Jones 
for those out of UK… “beck” is a northern English word for small stream. And our robin is more like North American bluebirds (brown instead of blue) than your larger thrush-like bird.
Beautifully written.
Beautiful writing. I am glad you added your words above, as our robin here (actually my state’s state bird) is brown with an orange breast and is always a sign of spring to me when we see it again in our area after a long winter. And I would not have known what a ‘beck’ is either.
so so beautiful all the way through… these three little words really struck a chord for me:
“rebirths of time”
Mesmerizing view and wordplay. Brilliant! Loved it.
enchanting rhythm to this….i like the robyns song as well…the newness of it…you got that…its fresh…i leave my windows open to hear the birds…
Your poems are always so rhythmic and lyrical, one just floats alone. I ADORE “The robin’s song is always new.” We now have a very large flock of mourning doves living in our yard. A blessing!
I love the rhythm of this poem, and all of your poems seem to follow suit successfully. Thanks for sharing another good one. /The primrose bank is life to you/ is sweet and rolls off naturally as a robin’s song does. Beautiful.
Reblogged this on bonniejtoomeydotcom and commented:
This is a sweet soothing poem about the robin in spring.
Love this!
Lovely, Gavin. It reminds me that one of the most important gifts in life is nature, and the peace it brings.
Why are we so bent on destroying this – this is the atrocity we must fight against, with all our strength.
Beautiful rhythm, beautiful words – robin rich is wonderful.
Anna :o]