The wind that waves the blossoms Sang, sang, sang from age to age. The flowers were made curious by this joy. "Oh, wind," they said, "why sing you at your labour, While we, pink beneficiaries, sing not, But idle, idle, idle from age to age?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITH WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS, NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING' by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH PICCIOLA by ROBERT HENRY NEWELL THE OTHER WORLD by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE ON THE BIRTH OF HIS SON by SU SHIH |