THE mist has left the greening plain, The dew-drops shine like fairy rain, The coquette rose awakes again Her lovely self adorning. The Wind is hiding in the trees, A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, Until the rose says "Kiss me, please," 'Tis morning, 'tis morning. With staff in hand and careless-free, The wanderer fares right jauntily, For towns and houses are, thinks he, For scorning, for scorning. My soul is swift upon the wing, And in its deeps a song I bring; Come, Love, and we together sing, "'Tis morning, 'tis morning." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOSSAMER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SONGS OUT OF SORROW: REFUGE by SARA TEASDALE INSTANS TYRANNUS by ROBERT BROWNING HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 6. YEUX GLAUQUES by EZRA POUND TWELVE SONNETS: 4. LONELY SEASONS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) ODE TO A CHILD by MATHILDE BLIND HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 44 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |