NOW the sweet-voiced nightingale In the woods takes up her tale, @3Itys, Itys@1 her refrain, Waking grief to light again. Shepherds on the hilly weald Pipe their reeds to flocks afield; Yellow foals in couples pass, Roused from stall to eat their grass; And the huntsman sets to work Quartering where the wild beasts lurk. Swans about the Ocean springs Cry, and sweet their music rings; Boats cast off and take the seas Driven by oar and spanking breeze; Sails, run up to catch the blow, Bellying white to fore-stay go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE by WILLIAM MCKENDREE CARLETON SPEAKIN' O' CHRISTMAS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE DARK-EYED GENTLEMAN by THOMAS HARDY THE LAW OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THRENOS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY FANCIES AT NAVESINK: 7 by WALT WHITMAN LOOKING FORWARD by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA REBECCA; WHO SLAMMED DOORS FOR FUN AND PERISHED MISERABLY by HILAIRE BELLOC |