THE golden discs of the rattlesnake-weed, That spangle the woods and dance -- No gleam of gold that the twilights hold Is strong as their necromance: For, under the oaks where the woodpaths lead, The golden discs of the rattlesnake-weed Are the May's own utterance. The azure stars of the bluet bloom, That sprinkle the woodland's trance -- No blink of blue that a cloud lets through Is sweet as their countenance: For, over the knolls that the woods perfume, The azure stars of the bluet bloom Are the light of the May's own glance. With her wondering words and her looks she comes, In a sunbeam of a gown; She needs but think and the blossoms wink, But look, and they shower down. By orchard ways, where the wild bee hums, With her wondering words and her looks she comes Like a little maid to town. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY DEATH AS A GIRL I KNEW by JAMES GALVIN THE RIVULET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EPITAPH INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC NEWTON, IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALEXANDER POPE NUPTIAL SLEEP by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI EXTEMPORE ON BEING SHOWN SHOE BUCKLES WORN BY DAVID GARRICK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ON THE WATERFRONT by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |