Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier's boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are -- Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose. Very old are the brooks; And the rills that rise Where snow sleeps cold beneath The azure skies Sing such a history Of come and gone, Their every drop is as wise As Solomon. Very old are we men; Our dreams are tales Told in dim Eden By Eve's nightingales; We wake and whisper awhile, But, the day gone by, Silence and sleep like fields Of amaranth lie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABOVE HALF MOON by JAMES GALVIN POETRY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TEARS AND KISSES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SYMPHONIC STUDIES (AFTER ROBERT SCHUMANN) by EMMA LAZARUS THE MARRIAGE (1) by TIMOTHY LIU REMBRANDT TO REMBRANDT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON BUCOLIC COMEDY: SERENADE by EDITH SITWELL BUCOLIC COMEDY: WHY by EDITH SITWELL ELEGY: THE LITTLE GHOST WHO DIED FOR LOVE; FOR ALLANAH HARPER by EDITH SITWELL |