WIDE as the world is, music abounds; Time has a legion of lovely sounds From the soonest blackbird to latest bee That murmurs along his honeying rounds; Surpassing those, one anthem is sweet As ever the message of Paraclete, When the kiss of Spring Says all must sing And the host of secrets are bright on the wing. Then the willow, that last in the moon stood numb, Finds its Apollo-vesture come, And, waiting on zephyr-sense so long, Communes its sudden vein of song Till on to the white and blue serene One willow sings from a hamlet green. Long are the sighs that lull the sleep Of breathing youngness in such new hours. Breezes are come to dance the flowers But from what deep, What siren shores! Such nights, the moon's still self can stir The feathery spray of this one tree, And allure the least to tune with her -- She sways these leaves that sways the sea. And far I hear the answer given; Responding triumph will not pause, Dares trespass the ethereal laws. The ploughman's mark, the hatchet's toy, Magicked into a winged Joy, Reveals new song to Heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON AFTER THE QUARREL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE WASHERS OF THE SHROUD; OCTOBER, 1861 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SONG (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE FAMILY MAN by JOHN GODFREY SAXE |