SWEET, sweet, the lusty thrush Sings in the evening hush: Summer is come at last; The grey day's over and past; Better for birds and men. So long the East wind stayed, So long the rose delayed, That now 'tis midsummer When songs must die, my dear, And silence come again. Sing, thrush, while yet you may, You have so brief a day, You and the rose new-blown; You are scarce here, you are flown; The silence aches and stings. The rose you waited for Is here sweet as of yore; And sweet's the hour and sweet The day's long golden heat: Alack, that songs have wings! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AD PATRIAM by CLINTON SCOLLARD SEEING HIS OWN PICTURE by PHILIP AYRES TREES IN WINTER by ARTHUR WILLIAM BEER A WOMAN SCALY by WILLIAM BLAKE PETITION (1) by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. A SPRIG OF ARISTOCRACY by EDWARD CARPENTER |