A garden "bed"; perhaps they call it so When bulbs beneath a coverlet of snow Are tucked by Mother Earth to rest awhile And dream till April, with her lovely smile, Throws off the blanket, bids them wake and rise To greet the golden glory of the skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG [OF DIVINE LOVE] by RICHARD CRASHAW SONNET: 87 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ANECDOTE OF THE JAR by WALLACE STEVENS CHRIST IN FLANDERS by LUCY WHITMELL WHEN I WAS YOUNG by IRMA TIBBETTS ANDREWS A LAY OF ST. GENGULPHUS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM CLOUDY JUNE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |