Lo, silence, like a roving bee Upon her daily round, To fill the hive of memory Despoils each blossom-sound, And winters, as the past devours Whate'er the present yields, The promise of immortal flowers For time's unfallowed fields. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO EVENING by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) SHEEP AND LAMBS by KATHARINE TYNAN IMPROMPTU LINES ON JULY FOURTH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AN INVITATION by MRS. RALPH BLACK THE MISTAKE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: APOLLO AND THE FATES by ROBERT BROWNING |