Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LAST CRICKET, by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LAST CRICKET, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Hey, piper, in the lean gray grass
Last Line: The year without a rose!
Subject(s): Pipers; Summer


HEY, piper, in the lean gray grass,
The crackling blades o' Hallowmas,
Ho, piper, sooth to hear!
Pipe me the sweetest thing I know,
(Save Yesterday), -- aye, at it so! --
The last rose of the year!
Yet hold, my little piper there!
The wind has blown the brier bare,
That mocked us so with June.
They twain are gone the selfsame way --
The red last rose and Yesterday --
What else is worth a tune?
Quick, pipe me, pipe this weather fleet,
The bitter of it and the sweet;
Pipe me the coming snows;
The ragged nest upon the wall;
Pipe me the saddest of them all,
The year without a rose!






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