This is a legacy of love To earth's unplowed fields, Where only weeds grow, that when I am dead They'll know that they have lost a friend. These untilled fields, Unvisited Except by birds, butterflies and bees. I loved These tough, rank, vigorous growths On stony hillsides, On damp, undrained bottom land, Unharrowed, cropless, Their rough, uneven surfaces and broken down walls. No fertile fields with scarecrows guarding them Have pleased me more Than tangled fields Of deep purple iron weed, Of pink Joe-pie weed, The elderberry's royal hue, The jewel weed's orange drops, The hog plant's flame, The butterfly weed, The branching wild sun-flowers, The brown cat o' nine tails, shaped like skyrockets, Amongst plumed grasses, Picked out with drooping red lillies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE A DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER by JONATHAN SWIFT SPRING [IN WAR-TIME] by HENRY TIMROD PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 33. AL-HALIM by EDWIN ARNOLD CYNTHIA RETURNED FROM THE COUNTRY by PHILIP AYRES INTIMATIONS OF MORTALITY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |