WHERE sunshine flecks the green, Through towering woods my way Goes winding all the day. Scant are the flowers that bloom Beneath the bosky screen And cage of golden gloom. Few are the birds that call, Shrill-voiced and seldom seen. Where silence masters all, And light my footsteps fall, The whispering runnels only With blazing noon confer; And comes no breeze to stir The tangled thickets lonely. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ICE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON MARCHING (AS SEEN FROM THE LEFT FILE) by ISAAC ROSENBERG SPANISH SPRING by JEAN D. ARMSTRONG SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 47 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) EVENSONG by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |