Your fifty springs and seven more you saw The blooming of your snow-hung cherry tree, After you sang your "Loveliest of Trees," And singing, gave it immortality. Singer, your songs are servant to our need Who seek our way with heedless, blinded eyes That cannot see till one with winged words Of simple genius, leads where beauty lies. Your tree has bloomed, the team has ploughed the field; The poplars tremble by the brooks you knew; The spring has come -- do you not hear her call, Whose soul still lingers here in songs, too few? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 1 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH AFTER THE RAIN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE STORY OF AUGUSTUS WHO WOULD NOT HAVE ANY SOUP by HEINRICH HOFFMANN TALL NETTLES by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS HUSH OF TWILIGHT by G. KENYON ASHENDEN MASSACRE OF THE MACPHERSON by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |