THE fields are chill; the sparse rain has stopped; The colors of Spring teem on every side. With leaping fish the blue pond is full; With singing thrushes the green boughs droop. The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered cheeks; The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist. By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud Blown by the wind slowly scatters away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 21. TO CYRIACK SKINNER by JOHN MILTON SINCE THOU ART GONE by HENRY VAUGHAN A PRAYER by CLARENCE M. BURKHOLDER A TASTE FOR THE MODERN by BLISS CARMAN THE LIVING PRESENT by ALICE CARY LINES FROM A NOTEBOOK - MAY 1810 by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |