Tawny grasses climb the fields; The red-brown sumac blossom wields Its lance-like shaft in watchful ranks; Bayberries lift their snowy fruit; Trees bare their beauty, standing mute; Dead goldenrod, full, feathery soft, Sways on sere stalks; and from aloft A crow cries lonesomely. The banks Along the brook are white with snow. To hear the brook one has to go Close to its side. A murmur low Is reassuring: through festoons Of decorative ice, it croons That spring will come, ere many moons. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAMPLIGHTER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE POET'S SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON THE LUNCH by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONG OF THE SERPENT-CHARMERS by EDWIN ARNOLD UNDER A THOUSAND WORDS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN PSALMS OF THE SEA: THE CONVERT by EVERETT BOSTON THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FIFTH ECLOGUE; TO HIS FRIEND CHRISTOPHER BROOKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |