Answer:

hi mate pls mark me brainliest

If I could take a brush and paint the mountains and the moors,

I would splash the hillsides yellow and cover them in gorse.

I'd take the finest needle and the darkest thread of green

And sew a line of bracken along the landscape.

On a Lane in Spring

A little lane – the brook runs close beside,

And spangles in the sunshine, while the fish

glide swiftly by;

And hedges leafing with the green springtide;

From out their greenery the old birds fly,

And chirp and whistle in the morning sun;

The pilewort glitters ’neath the pale blue sky,

The little robin has its nest begun

The grass-green linnets round the bushes fly.

How mild the spring comes in! the daisy buds

Lift up their golden blossoms to the sky.

How lovely are the pingles and the woods!

Here a beetle runs – and there a fly

Rests on the arum leaf in bottle-green,

And all the spring in this sweet lane is seen.

John Clare