The green elm with the one great bough of gold Lets leaves into the grass slip, one by one, -- The short hill grass, the mushrooms small, milk-white, Harebell and scabious and tormentil, That blackberry and gorse, in dew and sun, Bow down to; and the wind travels too light To shake the fallen birch leaves from the fern; The gossamers wander at their own will. At heavier steps than birds' the squirrels scold. The rich scene has grown fresh again and new As Spring and to the touch is not more cool Than it is warm to the gaze; and now I might As happy be as earth is beautiful, Were I some other or with earth could turn In alternation of violet and rose, Harebell and snowdrop, at their season due, And gorse that has no time to be gay. But if this be not happiness, -- who knows? Some day I shall think this is a happy day, And this mood by the name of melancholy Shall no more blackened and obscured be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLACES: 4. EVENING (NAHANT) by SARA TEASDALE THE YOUNG LAUNDRYMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A SONG FROM THE COPTIC by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE THE TRANSFORMATION OF A TEXAS GIRL by JAMES BARTON ADAMS LOVE'S NEW PHILOSOPHY by PHILIP AYRES ON THE DISCOVERIES OF CAPTAIN LEWIS [JANUARY 14, 1807] by JOEL BARLOW |