Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FLOWER-GATHERERS, by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN



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THE FLOWER-GATHERERS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Where a brook with lisping tongue
Last Line: Forgets he had a course to run.
Alternate Author Name(s): Blunden, Edmund
Subject(s): Fate; Flowers; Mothers; Destiny


WHERE a brook with lisping tongue
Through the lonelier meadows sung,
And woodnotes mingled silver showers,
Mother and child were picking flowers,
Were picking flowers blue, cool and gay,
And answering each the other's play:
Ah, slow, sweet hours!
Go with them in those fearless bowers,
And you, kind sun,
Forget the arc you yet must run.

A ringlet, which the golden wind
Had spirited and unconfined,
The mother from her brow put by
And starting looked up at the sky:
There a pale cloudiness crept on,
Low whispering, time to get her gone:
Then no sweet hours
Can loiter in the merriest bowers,
Nor you good sun
Can stop the wheels that change made run?

And soon beyond the church and hill
Mother and child had passed, but still
Chance-dropt from warm young fingers lay
Forget-me-nots along the way.
The broken day has long since died,
And change has grown in power and pride,
Yet those sweet hours,
Strange luck, are loitering in those bowers,
And that charmed sun
Forgets he had a course to run.





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