BARE, low, tawny hills With bluer heights beyond, And the air is sweet with spring, But when will the earth respond? Prairie that rolls for leagues, Dusky and golden-pale, Like a stirless sea of waves, Unbroken by ship or sail. The hollows are dark with brush, And black with the wash of showers, And ragged with bleaching wreck Of the ranks of the tall sunflowers. No cloud in the blue, no stir Save the shrill of the wind in the grass, And the meadow-lark's note, and the call Of the wind-borne crows that pass. Bare, low, tawny hills, With bluer heights beyond, And the air is sweet with spring, But when will the earth respond? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FAERY FOREST by SARA TEASDALE ON THE BUST OF HELEN BY CANOVA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON WERE I BUT HIS OWN WIFE by ELLEN MARY PATRICK DOWNING HAMPTON BEACH by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SPRING IN NEW ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |