TO you light troupe that ryde On movynge wings and glyde Above the world and slake it, And with your murmur soft Move the green shade and oft With gentle tremors shake it— For you I violets cull, And flowers beautiful, These roses and these lilies,— These roses all soe red And newly openéd, These pinks and daffodillies. Nowe with your gentle breath Breathe onthe plaine beneath, And lightly fan this meadowe, Whyle I doe sweat and straine At threshynge of my graine, And noon is without shadowe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PORTRAIT OF A MOTOR CAR by CARL SANDBURG THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE CHESSBOARD by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON TO THE LAPLAND LONGSPUR by JOHN BURROUGHS AN ODE TO HIMSELF by BEN JONSON ULTIMA THULE: THE TIDE RISES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AN EPITAPH ON A ROBIN REDBEAST by SAMUEL ROGERS AN OLD WOMAN: 1 by EDITH SITWELL THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 10. THE DEATH OF HUSKISSON by T. BAKER |