NOW through the April land doth pass, As through the slim, Sicilian grass, The Vision of the Daffodils -- Persephone! Persephone! And ever still Persephone! This antique cry the weather fills. It is the old mood of the spring, A sweet and a heart-breaking thing -- The budding joy, the vanished good; For, though we pluck the daffodils, Or walk with laughter on the hills, Yet go we empty through the wood! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELSA WERTMAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DEEDS OF VALOR AT SANTIAGO by CLINTON SCOLLARD PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 83. YA MALIK by EDWIN ARNOLD YOU, WHO HAVE SONS TO SPARE! by L. ALLEN BECK THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ZOHEYR by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |