Now the rich cherry, whose sleek wood And top with silver petals traced, Like a strict box its gems encased, Has spilt from out that cunning lid, All in an innocent green round, Those melting rubies which it hid; With moss ripe-strawberry-encrusted, So birds get half, and minds lapse merry To taste that deep-red, lark's-bite berry, And blackcap bloom is yellow-dusted. The wren that thieved it in the eaves A trailer of the rose could catch To her poor droopy sloven thatch, And side by side with the wren's brood -- O lovely time of beggar's luck -- Opens the quaint and hairy bud; And full and golden is the yield Of cows that never have to house, But all night nibble under boughs, Or cool their sides in the moist field. Into the rooms flow meadow airs, The warm farm baking smell's blown round, Inside and out, and sky and ground Are much the same, the wishing star, Hesperus, kind and early born, Is risen only finger-far; All stars stand close in summer air, And tremble, and look mild as amber, When wicks are lighted in the chamber, You might say, stars were settling there. Now straightening from the flowery hay, Down the still light the mowers look, Or turn, because their dreaming shook, And they waked half to other days, When left alone in the yellow stubble The rusty-coated mare would graze. Yet thick the lazy dreams are born, Another thought can come to mind, But like the shivering of the wind, Morning and evening in the corn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SAND-MAN by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE BLESSED DAMOZEL by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE AGED LOVER RENOUNCETH LOVE by THOMAS VAUX THE FAIR THIEF by CHARLES WYNDHAM BLAKE'S APOLOGY FOR HIS CATALOGUE by WILLIAM BLAKE |