DOWN the peach-tree slid The milk-white drops of th' dew, All in that merry time of th' year When the world is made anew. The daisy dressed in white, The paw-paw flower in brown, And th' violet sat by her lover, th' brook, With her golden eyelids down. Gayly its own best hue Shone in each leaf and stem, -- Gayly the children rolled on th' grass, With their shadows after them. I said, Be sweet for me, O little wild flowers! for I Have larger need, and shut in myself, I wither and waste and die! Pity me, sing for me! I cried to the tuneful bird; My heart is full of th' spirit of song, And I cannot sing a word! Like a buried stream that longs Through th' upper world to run, And kiss the dawn in her rosy mouth, And lie in th' light of th' sun; So in me, is my soul, Wasting in darkness the hours, Ever fretted and sullen and sad With a sense of its unused powers. In vain! each little flower Must be sweet for itself, nor part With its white or brown, and every bird Must sing from its own full heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APPROACH OF WINTER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS IN THE OLD THEATRE, FIESOLE by THOMAS HARDY VERSES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM OF A LADY'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK by THOMAS MOORE WEAVERS ALL by MINNIE KEITH BAILEY CHRISTMASSE DAY by JOSEPH BEAUMONT AT THE GRAVE OF DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL IF I WERE YOU by CARRIE BURRINGTON |