When winter still is in the air And not a green leaf anywhere, There are great flocks of birds that wing Over our town to find the Spring. I often wonder what they know, And how they find out where to go— Perhaps, because they're up so high, They see Spring somewhere in the sky. If I could fly the way they do, I would make haste to find Spring, too— I'd pull her gently by the hand And bring her back to my own land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MUSIC by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET A SUMMER'S GARDEN by ROBERT FROST I SING OF LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SURFACES AND MASKS; 12 by CLARENCE MAJOR |