These things are mine: the whispering of trees In the still noon, the drone of bees In clover bloom, the birds' sweet symphonies. These things are mine: the gold of daffodils, The silver-purple haze across the hills, The opalescent tints the sunset spills. These things are mine: the sheen of ripening grain, A gray road winding across the open plain, A rainbow arch against the sky after a week of rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BANJO SONG by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE CRESCENT MOON by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: COONEY POTTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS AN AMERICAN IN BANGKOK by KAREN SWENSON PLAYING SOMEONE ELSE'S PIANO by KAREN SWENSON MIDSUMMER NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE |