A WARNING wind finds out my resting-place And in a mountain cloud the lost sun chills; Night comes; and yet before she shows her face The sun flings off the shadows, warm light fills The valley and the clearings on the hills. Bleak crow the moorcocks on the fen's blue plashes, But here I warm myself with these bright looks and flashes. And warmed like me the merry humble-bee Puts fear aside, runs forth to catch the sun, And by the ploughland's shoulder comes to see The flowers that like him best, and seems to shun Cold countless quaking wind-flowers every one, Primroses too; but makes poor grass his choice Where small wood-strawberry blossoms nestle and rejoice. The magpies steering round from wood to wood, Tree-creeper flickering up the elm's green rind, Bold gnats that revel round my solitude And most this pleasant bee intent to find The new-born joy, inveigle the rich mind Long after darkness comes cold-lipped to one Still listening to the bee, still basking in the sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE SOUTH ON ITS NEW SLAVERY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON PLAYWRIGHT (1) by BEN JONSON TERNISSA, FR HELLENICS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR HERO AND LEANDER by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE SONNET: 98 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE TO - (3) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY |