FOR you I knit these lines, and on their ends Hang little tossing bells to ring you home. The music is all cracked, and Poesy tends To richer blooms than mine; but you who roam Thro' coloured gardens of the highest muse, And leave the door ajar sometimes that we May steal small breathing things of reds and blues And things of white sucked empty by the bee, Will listen to this bunch of bells from me. My cowslips ring you welcome to the land Your muse brings honour to in many a tongue, Not only that I long to clasp your hand, But that you're missed by poets who have sung And viewed with doubt the music of their verse All the long winter, for you love to bring The true note in and say the wise thing terse, And show what birds go lame upon a wing, And where the weeds among the flowers do spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GIVE ME THY HEART by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE KING'S DAUGHTER by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE RECOMPENSE by JESSE M. BALL ALLEN THE HARVEST by EVA K. ANGLESBURG THE BIRDS: THE HOOPOE'S CALL TO THE BIRDS by ARISTOPHANES THE DIVISION OF POLAND by EDWIN ARNOLD THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 39. FAREWELL TO JULIET (1) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SPRING FANTASIES: 1. MAY DAY IN MARCH by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. DISENTANGLEMENT by EDWARD CARPENTER |