WHEN friendly summer calls again, Calls again Her little fifers to these hills, We'll go -- we two -- to that arched fane Of leafage where they prime their bills Before they start to flood the plain With quavers, minims, shakes, and trills. "-- We'll go," I sing; but who shall say What may not chance before that day! And we shall see the waters spring, Waters spring From chinks the scrubby copses crown; And we shall trace their oncreeping To where the cascade tumbles down And sends the bobbing growths aswing, And ferns not quite but almost drown. "-- We shall," I say; but who may sing Of what another moon will bring! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A PINE TREE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 47 by ALFRED TENNYSON HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 10 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH O.M.B. (DIED NOVEMBER, 1874) by FORD MADOX BROWN CANTICLE by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |