What time is like the glad springtime, When all the trees are green and shady, And whisper with a balmy chime Above where you 're asleep, my lady? What dreams are like the sweet day-dreams That drift into your sylvan bower, Waywardly, like the light that gleams In intermittent golden shower? What song is like the wild bird's note That lilts from where he sings above you? The song he sings with swelling throat But tells, sweetheart, how much I love you. The arbor vine its tendrils throws Across your hammock softly swinging, And from your curls a faded rose Has dropped and in the grass is clinging. What wonder that the arbor vine Should strive to clasp its arms about you? What wonder that the rose should pine And droop and die at last without you? With bashful touch the zephyr twines Its fingers in your tangled tresses, Near where your red lips' curving lines Reflect the sunlight's warm caresses. The sunlight steals you kisses, dear; To do the same I have a craving. The zephyr has your curls, I fear; But one, I hope, for me you 're saving. Awake, my love! the dial's hand Is racing toward the evening hours. Awake and leave the wonderland Of dreams for this fair world of flowers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD MEN ON THE COURTHOUSE LAWN, MURRAY, KENTUCKY by JAMES GALVIN THE PRODIGAL SON by DAVID IGNATOW DIVIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WHERE? by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FRANCIS II, KING OF NAPLES; SONNET by AMY LOWELL THE MAN WITH THE WOODEN LEG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |