I'll have the primrose grow in grass, Held up in hands of soft, green moss. If in twelve months no green moss grows On that dark stone, then out it goes. Above my window-top there'll be A creeper that grows wild and free; Until so many leaves have grown, They'll make a curtain half-way down. In that round corner place shall grow A holly tree, for Winter's snow; There shall the Robin Redbreast sing, Till snow -- that feathers everything That has no life-blood pulsing through -- Would feather his warm feathers too! This lime, now old, I'll slowly kill With creeper-sucker leaves; until The leaves that grow around its bole, Makes it a child all beautiful -- When with her naked knee that's brown, She stands with half her stocking down. A lovelier death no man shall see -- Than seen in my half-strangled tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHELL TO THE PEARL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER TO FORTUNE by JAMES THOMSON (1700-1748) THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP by EMMA HART WILLARD ROGER'S SONG, FR. MIDSUMMER EVE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY A SONG OF THE ROAD by FRED G. BOWLES THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: 'PRENSUS IN AEGAEO' by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |