I have seen a lovely thing Stark before a ship of weather: The tree that was so wistful after spring, Beating barren twigs together. The birds that came there one by one, The sensuous leaves that used to sway And whisper there at night, all are gone; Each has vanished in its way. And this whip is on my heart. There is no sound that it allows, No little song that I may start But I hear the beating of dead boughs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RUPERT BROOKE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 27 by OMAR KHAYYAM MANNERLY MARGERY, MILK AND ALE by JOHN SKELTON SONGS OF TRAVEL: 1. THE VAGABOND by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON FOUR SONNETS: 2 by FRANK DAVIS ASHBURN TO THE MISS WEBSTERS, WITH DR. AIKIN'S WISH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |