EACH time the wind blows, up I look and see A swarm of blossoms rising in the air, And of its week-old flakes the hedge left bare, And apple-boughs deserted by the bee, And the one tardy-blossomed, slim peach-tree Blown like a flame against the stone wall there. But nay, not you; still empty climbs the stair. Yet, by sure signs the new year gives to me, -- By daffodils aging upon their stalks; By purple of the lilac turning gray; And by the last of bloom the long day through Heaped in the roads, and whitening all the walks, -- Full well I know you speeding this dear way. Can June return once more, and, sweet, not you? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONDON, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SESTINA: 1. OF THE LADY PIETRA DEGLI SCROVIGNI by DANTE ALIGHIERI DRAKE'S DRUM by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT POLLY by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS TIRED MOTHERS by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH |