BREAK forth, break forth, O Sudbury town, And bid your yards be gay Up all your gusty streets and down, For Lydia comes to-day! I hear it on the wharves below; And if I buy or sell, The good folk as they churchward go Have only this to tell. My mother, just for love of her, Unlocks her carved drawers; And sprigs of withered lavender Drop down upon the floors. For Lydia's bed must have the sheet Spun out of linen sheer, And Lydia's room be passing sweet With odors of last year. The violet flags are out once more In lanes salt with the sea; The thorn-bush at Saint Martin's door Grows white for such as she. So, Sudbury, bid your gardens blow, For Lydia comes to-day; Of all the words that I do know, I have but this to say. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LEPANTO by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON FIFTY YEARS (1863-1913) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE CARELESS GALLANT by THOMAS JORDAN SCORN NOT THE LEAST by ROBERT SOUTHWELL MY PRAYER by HENRY DAVID THOREAU PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 68. AL-KADAR by EDWIN ARNOLD |