And again the flowers are come, And the light shakes, And no tiny voice is dumb, And a bud breaks On the humble bush and the proud restless tree. Come with me! Look, this little flower is pink, And this one white. Here's a pearl cup for your drink, Here's for your delight A yellow one, sweet with honey. Here's fairy money Silver bright Scattered over the grass As we pass. Here's moss. How the smell of it lingers On my cold fingers! You shall have no moss. Here's a frail Hyacinth, deathyly pale. Not for you, not for you! And the place where they grew You must promise me not to discover, My sorrowful lover! Shall we never be happy again? Never again play? In vain -- in vain! Come away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEGY: THE LAMENT OF EDWARD BLASTOCK; FOR RICHARD ROWLEY by EDITH SITWELL A VISION OF CONNAUGHT IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 14. THE COMPLAINT by MARK AKENSIDE FALSE FRIEND by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM AFFINITIES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 37 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ST. PAUL'S CHRISTMAS BELLS by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: LEAFLESS HOURS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |