Beyond my window in the night Is but a drab inglorious street, Yet there the frost and clean starlight As over Warwick woods are sweet. Under the grey drift of the town The crocus works among the mould As eagerly as those that crown The Warwick spring in flame and gold. And when the tramway down the hill Across the cobbles moans and rings, There is about my window-sill The tumult of a thousand wings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI by DANTE ALIGHIERI SONNET: 12 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE A SONNET WRITTEN BY A NYMPH IN HER OWN BLOOD by CLAUDIO ACHILLINI IF I ONLY WAS THE FELLOW by WILL S. ADKIN SELF-DECEPTION by MATTHEW ARNOLD RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE LAST BALLADE; MASTER FRANCOIS VILLON LOQUITUR by THOMAS BEER |