There is a faint, delicious sense Of blossoms yet unborn, An odor rare, of fresh dug earth, In the sweet air of morn. The dim blue of the hazy sky Is flecked with cloud-land's spars; The foam-capped surges glint and gleam Beneath the sunlight's bars. Upon the breezes of the woods The violet's breath is flung, And through the mingled light and rain A silvery mist is hung. I watched the robin flitting by; And long he sat and sang Of days just coming, where the spring's Green, tender tassels hang. I saw a twittering sparrow sit Upon a mossy rail, While, now and then, he eyed askance A silvery-coated snail. The woodbine tiny leaflets wears, And round about its roots, Their slender arms adrip with rain, Are little pale-green shoots. The jonquil and the hyacinth,— They blossomed long ago; And now the breezes bend their cups, And toss them to and fro. I listen to the hum of bees And to the laughing stream, And elfin voices seem to call From out my idle dream. Ah, now the future spreads before Life some bright fairy chart, For summer days are coming back — The summer of the heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN ROMNEY MARSH by JOHN DAVIDSON VOICES OF THE NIGHT: PRELUDE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS by ALFRED TENNYSON THE BLUET by W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS FRIAR JEROME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK; A.D. 1200 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AT ELLIS ISLAND by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 49. THE ENGLISH RACE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |