Beyond my window in the night Is but a drab inglorious street, Yet there the frost and clean starlight As over Warwick woods are sweet. Under the grey drift of the town The crocus works among the mould As eagerly as those that crown The Warwick spring in flame and gold. And when the tramway down the hill Across the cobbles moans and rings, There is about my window-sill The tumult of a thousand wings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DREAM SONG: 1 by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE CARELESS GALLANT by THOMAS JORDAN CASSANDRA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON DEATH THE LEVELLER, FR. THE CONTENTION OF AJAX AND ULYSSES by JAMES SHIRLEY STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1726-7 by JONATHAN SWIFT THE SORROW OF LOVE (2) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |