They are too lost in yesterday, -- too dull From brooding in a winter of their own, To heed, at all, how vaguely beautiful The dusks are, hinting of a warmer tone; And how the proud stars, softened to the glow Of daffodils, lean nearer in an old Gesture to share some secret that they know With fields still aching for lost flocks to fold. But, biding in their winter yet, they brood Unceasingly on grievous memories; And do not mark the lilac in the mood Of hesitant twilights, nor make friends with these Old stars with April in their eyes, of late . . . And flocks for lonely pastures where they wait. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WAITER IN A CALIFORNIA VIETNAMESE RESTURANT by CLARENCE MAJOR ON THE BIRTH OF A CHILD by LOUIS UNTERMEYER JANUARY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW by ROBERT HERRICK GENTLEMEN-RANKERS by RUDYARD KIPLING HELTER SKELTER; OR, THE HUE AND CRY AFTER THE ATTORNEYS by JONATHAN SWIFT |