I FROM twig to twig the spider weaves At noon his webbing fine. So near to mute the zephyrs flute That only leaflets dance. The sun draws out of hazel leaves A smell of woodland wine. I wake a swarm to sudden storm At any step's advance. II Along my path is bugloss blue, The star with fruit in moss; The foxgloves drop from throat to top A daily lesser bell. The blackest shadow, nurse of dew, Has orange skeins across; And keenly red is one thin thread That flashing seems to swell. III My world I note ere fancy comes, Minutest hushed observe: What busy bits of motioned wits Through antlered mosswork strive. But now so low the stillness hums, My springs of seeing swerve, For half a wink to thrill and think The woods with nymphs alive. IV I neighbour the invisible So close that my consent Is only asked for spirits masked To leap from trees and flowers. And this because with them I dwell In thought, while calmly bent To read the lines dear Earth designs Shall speak her life on ours. V Accept, she says; it is not hard In woods; but she in towns Repeats, accept; and have we wept, And have we quailed with fears, Or shrunk with horrors, sure reward We have whom knowledge crowns; Who see in mould the rose unfold, The soul through blood and tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN; CEREMONIAL AT THE SUN SPRING by AMY LOWELL THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 112. GIBRALTAR by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SONNET: 13. OUT OF CATALLUS by GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS THE AEOLIAN HARP by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE ANGEL'S WHISPER by SAMUEL LOVER THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD by WALTER RALEIGH LOUSE HUNTING by ISAAC ROSENBERG HYMN: 32. THE NATIVITY OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST by CHRISTOPHER SMART |