Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A COUNTRY NOSEGAY, by ALFRED AUSTIN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Where have you been through the long sweet hours Last Line: And I will accept your wilding flowers. Subject(s): Flowers; Poetry & Poets | ||||||||
I. WHERE have you been through the long sweet hours That follow the fragrant feet of June? By the banks and the hedgerows gathering flowers, Ere the dew of the dawn is sipped by noon. II. And sooth each wilding that buds and blows You seem to have found and clustered here, Round the sprays of the rustic child-like rose That smiles in one's face till it stirs a tear. III. The clambering vetch, and the meadow-sweet tall, That nodded good-day as you sauntered past, And the poppy flaunting atop of the wall, As proud as glory, and fades as fast. IV. The campion bladders the children burst, The bramble that clutches and won't take nay, And the morning-glory that wakens first To the dewy kisses of nursing day. V. The prosperous elder that always smells Of homely joys and the cares that bless, And the woodbine's waxen and honeyed cells, A hive of the sweetest idleness. VI. And this wayside nosegay is all for me, For me, the poet -- the word sounds strong; -- Well, for him at least, whatever he be, Who has loitered his morning away in song. VII. And though sweetest poems that ever were writ, With the posy that up to my gaze you lift, Seem void of music and poor of wit, Yet I guess your meaning, and take your gift. VIII. For 'tis true among fields and woods I sing, Aloof from cities, and my poor strains Were born, like the simple flowers you bring, In English meadows and English lanes. IX. If e'er in my verse lurks tender thought, 'Twas borrowed from cushat or blackbird's throat; If sweetness any, 'twas culled or caught From boughs that blossom and clouds that float. X. No rare exotics nor forced are these; They budded in darkness and throve in storm; They learned their colour from rain and breeze, And from sun and season they took their form. XI. They peeped through the drift of the winter snows; They waxed and waned with the waning moon; Their music they stole from the deep-hushed rose, And all the year round to them is June. XII. So let us exchange, nor ask who gains, What each has saved from the morning hours: Take, such as they are, my wilding strains, And I will accept your wilding flowers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENVY OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POEMS by ROBERT HASS THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AS A SONG by ROBERT HASS THE FATALIST: TIME IS FILLED by LYN HEJINIAN OXOTA: A SHORT RUSSIAN NOVEL: CHAPTER 192 by LYN HEJINIAN LET ME TELL YOU WHAT A POEM BRINGS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA JUNE JOURNALS 6/25/88 by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA FOLLOW ROZEWICZ by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA HAVING INTENDED TO MERELY PICK ON AN OIL COMPANY, THE POEM GOES AWRY by HICOK. BOB |
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