Cecil Day-Lewis Biography

Lark, skylark, spilling your rubbed and round
Pebbles of sounds in air's still lake,
Whose widening circles fill the noon; yet none
Is known so small beside the sun:
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I sang as one
Who on a tilting deck sings
To keep their courage up, thought the wave hangs
That shall cut off their sun.
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They who in folly or mere greed
Enslaved religion, markets, laws,
Borrow our language now and bid
Us to speak up in freedom's cause.
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Come, live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of peace and plenty, bed and board,
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A frost came in the night and stole my world
And left this changeling for it - a precocious
Image of spring, too brilliant to be true:
White lilac on the window-pane, each grass-blade
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