THE poplar shows its white teeth to the gust , Driven out the east and up the still highway; The alders bow like reeds. A cloud of dust Whirls by, and with it scents from hollows gray, Scents from a hundred fields, the petals fair Of blossoming brambles by the fence a-row. The wind passes, and Io, each bush is bare! There at the gate, the one rose late agrow Lies in the path, a little quaking heap Of crimson leaves. The lily there is now A little snow blown through the grasses deep. Light airs and gentle sounds haunt blade and bough; Then, in the silence following again, Fall sudden-sweet great drops of silver rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE MOONLIGHT by THOMAS HARDY TO MY FRIENDS, WHO RIDICULED A TENDER LEAVE-TAKING by MATTHEW ARNOLD CHARACTERS: MARY HOLLAND ENFIELD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD LILIES: 8 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) MAY CELEBRANTS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TO MRS. ANN FLAXMAN by WILLIAM BLAKE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 32. EXHORTING HER TO PATIENCE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |