Francis Ledwidge’s speaker is drawn to the gentle, half-mournful sounds of spring: lullabies at twilight in lonely places, birds on dusty hedges, rain dripping through a warm wind, and a whisper moving through the reeds. There is no loud celebration here. Instead, the speaker expresses a quiet wish to linger by “broken water” while “old airs”—old songs and memories—drift back. The mood is tender, wistful, and a little sad. Beauty keeps brushing against loss: mothers sing to “weeping lids,” and the hedges change color without a sound. Spring becomes a season of fragile renewal and remembrance. The speaker does not want to capture or explain the feeling; he simply wants to stay inside it, listening.
Desire in Spring — Summary
I love the cradle songs the mothers sing In lonely places when the twilight drops, The slow endearing melodies that bring Sleep to the weeping lids; and, when she stops, I love the roadside birds upon the tops Of dusty hedges in a world of Spring.
And when the sunny rain drips from the edge Of midday wind, and meadows lean one way, And a long whisper passes thro' the sedge, Beside the broken water let me stay, While these old airs upon my memory play. And silent changes colour up the hedge.