THE birds come back to their last year's nest, And the wild-rose nods in the lane; And gold in the east, and red in the west, The sun bestirs him again. The thief-bee rifles the hawthorn flower; And the breezes softly sigh For the columbine in my lady's bower, And then at her feet they die. And all the pomp of the June is here -- The mirth and passion and song; And young is the summer, and life is dear, And the day is never too long. Ah! birds come back to their last year's nest, And the wild-rose laughs in the lane; But I turn to the east and I turn to the west -- "She never will come again." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EFFIGY OF A NUN (SIXTEENTH CENTURY) by SARA TEASDALE JOHN MOULDY by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE FRINGED GENTIAN by EMILY DICKINSON TWO FUSILIERS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES PICTURES FROM APPLEDORE: 5 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL PARADISI GLORIA by THOMAS WILLIAM PARSONS QUITS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |