'Tis not in vain if in a glade, Untrod by us, the sweet flowers bloom, And rich the woodland air is made By their perfume. 'Tis not in vain that glad and free, In some recess, a singing bird Pours forth a lay that cannot be By rapt ears heard. 'Tis not in vain that in the hum Of common toil, from year to year, Men move where plaudits never come Their hearts to cheer. Breathe on, sweet flowers, kiss every wind; Sing blithely, bird, till day doth close; Take up, brave souls, the task assigned— He knows! He knows! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT RAIN-SONGS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE WANDERING JEW by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A TOMB BY THE SEA by AULUS LICINIUS ARCHIAS MEARY WEDDED by WILLIAM BARNES |