What little bird is this that sings? I wonder if he comes from France: Lord, how he sings, and makes our leaves In happy England dance! What's in his song; is it sweet laughter, Or anger that he crossed the water? A song of roses, apples, corn, Seen here in England -- not his home; Or lilies, olives, and the grapes In France, across the foam? No matter, little friend from France -- Sing till our leaves in England dance. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 3. NAPLES by SARA TEASDALE MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER DEATH by THOMAS HOOD THE HERITAGE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL CIRCE by AUGUSTA DAVIES WEBSTER HEINE'S GRAVE by MATTHEW ARNOLD BRUCE: JAMES OF DOUGLAS by JOHN BARBOUR NURSERY REMINISCENCES by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 38. THE RETREAT FROM MOSCOW by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |