THE earth is bright, her forests all are golden; A cloud of flowers breathes blushing over her And, whispering from bud to blossom, opens The half-awakened memory of the song She heard in childhood from the mystic sun. There is some secret stirring in the world, A thought that seeks impatiently its word: A crown, or cross, for one is born to-day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 7. OF PLEASURE AND PAIN by THOMAS CAMPION SOMETIMES by THOMAS SAMUEL JONES JR. IF WE KNEW; OR, BLESSINGS OF TO-DAY by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH THE FIRST AIR-RAID WARNING by EVELYN D. BANGAY THE FEAST OF THE GODS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TO THE DEAD by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD A SUPPLICATION FOR LOVE, HYMN 1 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LINES WRITTEN IN ROUSSEAU'S LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN. by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |