This is a joy no laughter shakes, Nor shall my body rock; It hears the Cuckoo's voice in Spring, And sends no echoes back. When Music plays, it claps no hands, To twirl on nimble toes; It sits as quiet as a bird, With all its young up close. It is a joy that reconciles The smallest with the greatest; From what I was, and am, until Life's sweetest breath comes, latest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. MERRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS I HAVE SEEN THE SPRING' by SARA TEASDALE THE TEMPEST: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT DYING OF A COUGH by JOHN MILTON THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 71. THE CHOICE (1) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE OUTGOING OF SABBATH by ALTER ABELSON |