NOW blow the daffodils on slender stalks, Small, keen, quick flames that leap up in the mould, And run along the dripping garden-walks: Swallows come whirring back to chimneys old. Blown by the Wind, the pear-tree's flakes of snow Lie heaped in the thick grasses of the lane; And all the sweetness of the Long Ago Sounds in that song the thrush sends through the rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OWEN SEAMAN; ESTABLISHES ENTENE CORDIALE IN MANNER GUY WETMORE CARRYL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE OLD STOIC by EMILY JANE BRONTE TO SIR HENRY GOODYERE by BEN JONSON THE PROUD MISS MACBRIDE; A LEGEND OF GOTHAM by JOHN GODFREY SAXE THE LUNCH by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |