THE earth seems a desolate mother, -- Betrayed like the princess of old, The ermine stripped from her shoulders, And her bosom all naked and cold. But a joy looks out from her sadness, For she feels with a glad unrest The throb of the unborn summer Under her bare, brown breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRULY GREAT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 2 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY PRAYER FOR A BOY WITH A KITE by DOROTHY P. ALBAUGH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 28. AS-BAZIR by EDWIN ARNOLD MY WIFE'S COUSIN, SELECTION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN SONNET (3) by JOACHIM DU BELLAY |