When, after storms that woodlands rue, To valleys comes atoning dawn, The robins blithe their orchard-sports renew; And meadow-larks, no more withdrawn, Caroling fly in the languid blue; The while, from many a hid recess, Alert to partake the blessedness, The pouring mites their airy dance pursue. So, after ocean's ghastly gales, When laughing light of hoyden morning breaks, Every funny hider wakes -- From vaults profound swims up with glittering scales; Through the delightsome sea he sails, With shoals of shining tiny things Frolic on every wave that flings Against the prow its showery spray; All creatures joying in the morn, Save them forever from joyance torn, Whose bark was lost where now the dolphins play; Save them that by the fabled shore, Down the pale stream are washed away, Far to the reef of bones are borne; And never revisits them the light, Nor sight of long-sought land and pilot more; Nor heed they now the lone bird's flight Round the lone spar where mid-sea surges pour. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD FOLKS AT HOME by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER BILL AND JOE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE MORAL FABLES: THE TALE OF THE TWO MICE by AESOP LILIES: 11. 'I NEED THEE' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE WORLD'S DESIRE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |