WHERE grass grows short and the meadows end, And hedged fields slowly the hill ascend, To the gentle breezes bending low, Lazily bending, the bean-flowers blow. In winter the steaming horses toil With the bright plough deep in the loamy soil; In spring the sower goes forth to sow: Sweet in the summer the bean-flowers blow. Thither the bee with his ceaseless hum, Thither the maids with their lovers come. Pity that beauty cannot last! Pity the blossoms fade so fast! Oh, sweet the scent of the garden rose: As sweet on the hill the bean-flower blows. The bean to the threshing-floor shall come, But the rose is not at the harvest home. Maiden, what do the bean-flowers say? "Beauty but lasts for a little day; Who learns the lesson our blossoms tell, May be sweet and lovely and good as well." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT FROST RELATES THE DEATH OF THE TIRED MAN by LOUIS UNTERMEYER EPITAPH ON S.P., A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL by BEN JONSON A FATHER OF WOMEN: AD SOROREM E. B. by ALICE MEYNELL THE HOUSE OF LIFE: THE SONNET (INTRODUCTION) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY by WILLIAM SHENSTONE THE BOUNDARIES OF APPRECIATION by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS WITH A COPY OF CALVERLEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 1 by WILLIAM BASSE |