COME back before the birds are flown, Before the leaves desert the tree, And, through the lonely alleys blown, Whisper their vain regrets to me Who drive before a blast more rude, The plaything of my gusty mood, In vain pursuing and pursued! Nay, come although the boughs be bare, Though snowflakes fledge the summer's nest, And in some far Ausonian air The thrush, your minstrel, warm his breast. Come, sunshine's treasurer, and bring To doubting flowers their faith in spring, To birds and me the need to sing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY by WILLIAM SHENSTONE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 11 by ALFRED TENNYSON AFFINITES: 1 by MATHILDE BLIND THE MAID OF ARC; FOR M. S. M. by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE SECOND ANTEMASQUE by ELIZABETH BRACKLEY ON THE LATE CAPT. GROSE'S PEREGRINATIONS THRO' SCOTLAND by ROBERT BURNS |