Beneath yon Larkspur's azure bells That sun their bees in balmy air In mould no more the Blue-Bird dwells Tho' late he found interment there. All stiff he lay beneath the Fir When shrill the March piped overhead, And Pity gave him sepulchre Within the Garden's sheltered bed. And soft she sighed -- Too soon he came; On wings of hope he met the knell; His heavenly tint the dust shall tame; Ah, some misgiving had been well. But, look, the clear etherial hue In June it makes the Larkspur's dower; It is the self-same welkin-blue -- The Bird's transfigured in the Flower. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LILY IN CRYSTAL by ROBERT HERRICK BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER by WALLACE RICE COMMUNION by DOROTHY P. ALBAUGH EPITAPH ON A CHILD by JEAN ANTOINE DE BAIF THE WASHER WOMAN'S SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE SHAKESPEARE TO HIS MIRROR by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |