ONCE he sang of summer, Nothing but the summer; Now he sings of winter, Of winter bleak and drear: Just because there's fallen A snow-flake on his forehead. He must go and fancy 'T is winter all the year! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK RIDERS: 9 by STEPHEN CRANE CINQUAIN: SUSANNA AND THE ELDERS by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY THE FISHER by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE THE GENTLE CHECK by JOSEPH BEAUMONT A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 16 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT JAMES MCCOSH by ROBERT BRIDGES (1858-1941) THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE NOVEL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |