YOU are the first wild violet of the year; Young grass you are, and apple-bloom, and spray Of honeysuckle; you are dawn of day, And the first snow-fall! It is you I hear When the March robin calls me loud and clear, Or lonely rill goes singing on its way Like some small flute of heav'n; or when the gray Sad wood-dove calls and early stars appear. And you it is within the wayside shrine Carved tenderly; and in the folded wings On some neglected tomb; and in the vine And leaf and saint of old imaginings On some forgotten missal -- little things We would not barter for things more divine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VILLA PAULINE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN SERVICE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 3. TEESTAY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE WALL STREET PIT, MAY, 1901 by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TENNESSEE CLAFLIN SHOPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |