MID the squander'd colour idling as I lay Reading the Odyssey in my rock-garden I espied the cluster'd tufts of Cheddar pinks Burgeoning with promise of their scented bloom All the modish motley of their bloom to-be Thrust up in narrow buds on the slender stalks Thronging springing urgent hasting (so I thought) As if they feared to be too late for summer— Like schoolgirls overslept waken'd by the bell Leaping from bed to don their muslin dresses On a May morning: Then felt I like to one indulging in sin (Whereto Nature is oft a blind accomplice) Because my aged bones so enjoyed the sun There as I lay along idling with my thoughts Reading an old poet while the busy world Toil'd moil'd fuss'd and scurried worried bought and sold Plotted stole and quarrel'd fought and God knows what. I had forgotten Homer dallying with my thoughts Till I fell to making these little verses Communing with the flowers in my rock-garden On a May morning. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHANNON AND THE CHESAPEAKE [JUNE 1, 1813] by THOMAS TRACY BOUVE THE OL' TUNES by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR HISTORY OF A LIFE by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER TWO WOMEN by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS HAUNTED by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH VERSES TO A FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON ST. CECILIA'S HYMN by JOHN BYROM UPON THE THEME OF LOVE: THE BODY, A FANCY by MARGARET LUCAS CAVENDISH |