I sometimes have strange fancies in the Spring. I think the birds we hear—sweet, fleeting birds— Have stole from poet-hearts the songs they sing Ere poet-lips have shaped them into words. I think the frail white flowers on my way Are sweet lost thoughts or dreams that are astray; And all the poppies that are frail and red, I think are tears some broken heart has shed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE HERONS OF ELMWOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 18 by OMAR KHAYYAM HOUSEHOLD POEMS: 1. BRONWEN by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH FOAM STRAY by JOSEPH AUSLANDER CASTLES IN THE AIR by JAMES BALLANTYNE PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: GERARD DE LAIRESSE by ROBERT BROWNING |