'Tis sweet, when slanting light the field adorns, To see the new-shorn flocks recline or browse; While swallows flit among the restful cows, Their gurgling dew-laps, and their harmless horns; Or flirt the aged hunter, in his dose, With passing wing; yet with no thought to grieve His mild, unjealous, innocent repose, With those keen contrasts our sad hearts conceive. And then, perchance, the evening wind awakes With sudden tumult, and the bowery ash Goes storming o'er the golden moon, whose flash Fills and refills its breezy gaps and breaks; The weeping willow at her neighbour floats, And busy rustlings stir the wheat and oats. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE METROPOLITAN TOWER by SARA TEASDALE WHEN THERE IS PEACE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON SONNET: 16. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652 by JOHN MILTON DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY [OR, DAFFYDOWNDILLY] by MOTHER GOOSE THE PHILOSOPHER TOAD by REBECCA S. REED NICHOLS HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 1. E.P. ODE POUR L'ELECTION DE SON SEPULCHRE by EZRA POUND ON HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA by HENRY WOTTON |