WHEN June was cool and clover long And birds were glad in soul and body, I sat me down to make a song, And sweltered in my study: I swinked and sweat with weary art To tell how merry was my heart. With weary art and wordy choice I toiled, when sudden — low and breezy — I heard a little friendly voice Call: @3Simple, simple, so easy!@1 I heard, yet sat apart in dole To sing how social was my soul. In vain! — That artless voice went round In tiny echoes faint and teasy. I rose: "What toil then, have you found @3Simple, simple, so easy?@1" Dauntless, the bird, with dewy beak, Carolled again his cool critique. Nay, song it is a simple thing For hearts that seek no reason: Relentless bird, why should you sing Who @3are@1 the happy season? — Still @3why!@1 The root of joy I seek, While laughter ripples from your beak. No wonder, then, the bard's pen creaks, The critic's drone grows wheezy, When joy the June bird never seeks Is @3simple, simple, so easy!@1 While we, who find our art so long, Still make a subterfuge of song! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF THE PILGRIMS by RUPERT BROOKE THE POET AND THE BABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE TOWN OF DON'T-YOU-WORRY by I. J. BARTLETT THE HOUREGLASSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT PSALM 9. CONFITEBOR TIBI by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE BOY AND THE FLUTE by BJORNSTJERNE MARTINIUS BJORNSON THE ROCK OF LIBERTY; A PILGRIM ODE, 1620-1920: 2. STRUGGLE by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN LOVE POEMS: 2. ON A LADY'S YELLOW HAIR, POWDERED WITH WHITE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |