THE roses are a regal troop, And modest folk the daisies; But, Bluebells of New England, To you I give my praises -- To you, fair phantoms in the sun, Whom merry Spring discovers, With bluebirds for your laureates, And honey-bees for lovers. The south-wind breathes, and lo! you throng This rugged land of ours: I think the pale blue clouds of May Drop down, and turn to flowers! By cottage doors along the roads You show your winsome faces, And, like the spectre lady, haunt The lonely woodland places. All night your eyes are closed in sleep, Kept fresh for day's adorning: Such simple faith as yours can see God's coming in the morning! You lead me by your holiness To pleasant ways of duty; You set my thoughts to melody, You fill me with your beauty. Long may the heavens give you rain, The sunshine its caresses, Long may the woman that I love Entwine you in her tresses! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GO SLEEP, MA HONEY by EDWARD D. BARKER JIM, WHO RAN AWAY FROM HIS NURSE, AND WAS EATEN BY A LION by HILAIRE BELLOC AT CASTLE WOOD by EMILY JANE BRONTE SONG OF MARION'S MEN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT by ROBERT BURNS LULLABY by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON FEBRUARY IN ROME by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE |