I came here every spring to play, To watch the sun on the distant bay, Count the ferries and sharp-sailed boats, Climb the hills of wind-silvered oats, Pick gold poppies, pale cream-cups, Baby-blue-eyes and Johnny-jump-ups, Smell the mushrooms, the wild salt marsh, Lupine sweet and tarweed harsh. Another spring and the meadow-larks call, But all I see is a prison wall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR REMEMBERING HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU by JAMES GALVIN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MOTHER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE |