THE thronged boughs of the shadowy sycamore Still bear young leaflets half the summer through; From when the robin 'gainst the unhidden blue Perched dark, till now, deep in the leafy core, The embowered throstle's urgent wood-notes soar Through summer silence. Still the leaves come new; Yet never rosy-sheathed as those which drew Their spiral tongues from spring-buds heretofore. Within the branching shade of Reverie Dreams even may spring till autumn: yet none be Like woman's budding day-dream spirit-fann'd. Lo! tow'rd deep skies, not deeper than her look, She dreams; till now on her forgotten book Drops the forgotten blossom from her hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE OF WENCHES by FRANCOIS VILLON RELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH by JOHN DRYDEN CHANNEL FIRING by THOMAS HARDY EVENING HYMN by REGINALD HEBER ON THE PORTRAIT OF SHAKESPEARE by BEN JONSON A CHARACTER OF JOSEPH PRIESTLY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD VERIS ET FAVONI by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN TO MY HONOURED FRIEND MR. DRAYTON; AFFIXED TO 'POLYOLBION' by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |