Gold-breasted meadow lark, I heard your call From February fields to frozen springs Of sun and song. Amid March bourgeonings A sparrow trilled although snow banked each wall. With blossom-tide, now countless petals fall Set whirling by the beat of heedless wings. All day the phoebe to her nestling sings And cattle roam afield, loosed from the stall. To gloomy skies they sang -- sparrow and lark, Impelled by tides of life they felt pursue, Till warmth and song and blossom now are here. Cry, prophet voices! Bid the cold world hark! Times you foretell when toil shall have its due. Be not afraid; you lead the advancing year. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BOATMAN OF KINSALE by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS CYNTHIADES: TO CYNTHIA ON CONCEALMENT OF HER BEAUTY by FRANCIS KYNASTON JOURNEY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN EPITAPH ON MR. JOHN DEANE, OF NEW COLLEGE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE BOHEMIANS OF BOSTON AND THEIR WAYS; A MEMORY OF THE JACOBEAN CRAZE by FRANK GELETT BURGESS |