The earth, late choked with showers, Is now arrayed in green, Her bosom springs with flowers, The air dissolves her teen; The heavens laugh at her glory, Yet bide I sad and sorry. The woods are decked with leaves, And trees are clothéd gay, And Flora crowned with sheaves, With oaken boughs doth play; Where I am clad in black, The token of my wrack. The birds upon the trees Do sing with pleasant voices, And chant in their degrees Their loves and lucky choices; When I, whilst they are singing, With sighs mine arms am wringing. The thrushes seek the shade, And I my fatal grave; Their flight to heaven is made, My walk on earth I have; They free, I thrall; they jolly, I sad and pensive wholly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CANDLE INDOORS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS GRENADIER by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SIBERIA by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN A UTILITARIAN VIEW OF THE MONITOR'S FIGHT by HERMAN MELVILLE SONG OF THE BOOKWORM by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THE LAST BATTLE OF THE CID by ADA CAMBRIDGE |