WHEN violets were springing And sunshine filled the day, And happy birds were singing The praises of the May, A word came to me, blighting The beauty of the scene, And in my heart was winter, Though all the trees were green. Now down the blast go sailing The dead leaves, brown and sere; The forests are bewailing The dying of the year; A word comes to me, lighting With rapture all the air, And in my heart is summer, Though all the trees are bare. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CASEY AT THE BAT (1) by ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER THE THREE TROOPERS DURING THE PROTECTORATE by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY REMEMBER WITH A SONG by STEWART ATKINS MUCKLE-MOU'D MEG by JAMES BALLANTYNE ON A PORTRAIT by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD INVITATION TO PETERHEAD by JAMES HAY BEATTIE |