JAR in arm, they bade him rove Thro' the alder's long alcove, Where the hid spring musically Gushes to the ample valley. (There's a bird on the under bough Fluting evermore and now: "Keep -- young!" but who knows how?) Down the woodland corridor, Odors deepened more and more; Blossomed dogwood, in the briers, Struck her faint delicious fires; Miles of April passed between Crevices of closing green, And the moth, the violet-lover, By the wellside saw him hover. Ah, the slippery sylvan dark! Never after shall he mark Noisy ploughman drinking, drinking, On his drowned cheek down-sinking; Quit of serving is that wild, Absent, and bewitched child, Unto action, age, and danger, Thrice a thousand years a stranger. Fathoms low, the naiads sing In a birthday welcoming; Water-white their breasts, and o'er him, Water-gray, their eyes adore him. (There's a bird on the under bough Fluting evermore and now: "Keep -- young!" but who knows how?) | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BURIAL OF BOSTON CORBETT (ONE WARDEN TO ANOTHER) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE OLD SQUIRE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE CITY OF COLOGNE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE LONDON CHURCHES by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES THE OLD FERRYMAN by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM |