IN the meadow by the mill I'd make my ballad, Tunes to that would whistle shrill And beat the blackbird's ringing bill. But surely the innocent spring has died, The sultry noon has hushed the bird, The jingling word, the turn and glide All in that meadow must have died. For that, the fuller speech of song Has charmed me, And lulled my lonely hours along; Though beauty's truth that leads to-day My longing trials Shone then like dewdrops in my way When "Nature painted all things gay." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TWINS by HENRY SAMBROOKE LEIGH PRO PATRIA MORI by THOMAS MOORE THE HONEYSUCKLE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI REFUGE by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. OUR BE'THPLEACE by WILLIAM BARNES THE SINGERS OF DELLA ROBBIA by ALFRED BARRETT |