(1) Now the time has come to sing In the service of the Spring, I will lift a note, and call Bird and beast to madrigal. But o'er vale and mountain-shelf, In the wood, the plain, the glade, Spring is singing for herself, Singing without any aid! You can do without my aid! So I need not sing for you! Singing is my only trade! What the deuce am I to do! (2) Among the leaves I'll make a rhyme, To the winter in its pall, For the poor forgotten time Has not had a song at all. Winter! Winter! Do not fear! You shall wear an icy crown At the falling of the year When the leaves are tumbled down! I am singing to you here, Where the buds breaks on the tree! At the falling of the year You shall sing a song to me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WINSOME WEE THING by ROBERT BURNS ALONZO THE BRAVE AND THE FAIR IMOGINE by MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS SEAWEED by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO THE REV. F.D. MAURICE by ALFRED TENNYSON SWORD AND BUCKLER; OR, SERVING-MAN'S DEFENCE: TO THE READER by WILLIAM BASSE THE WEST FRONT by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES WRETTEN MY ME ON THE DEATH OF MY CHILD PERIGRENE PAYLER by MARY CAREY |