Behold the robin's breast aglow An on the lawn he seeks his game; His cap a darker hue doth show, His bill a yellow flame. Now in the elm-tops see the swarm Of swelling buds like bees in May; The maples, too, have tints blood warm, And willows show a golden ray. In sunny woods the mould makes room For liver leaf to ope her eye; A tiny firmament of bloom With stars upon a mimic sky. Forth from the hive go voyaging bees, Cruising far each sunny hour; Scenting sap 'mid maple trees, Or sifting bread from sawdust flour. Up from the marsh a chorus shrill Of piping frogs swells in the night; The meadowlark shows flashing quill As o'er brown fields she takes her flight. Now "mourning-cloak" takes up her clew And dances through the sunny glades; And sluggish turtles painted new Are creeping forth where bittern wades. Now screaming hawks soar o'er the wood, And sparrows red haunt bush banks; The starlings gossip, "Life is good," And grackles pass in sable ranks. The rye-fields show a tender hue Of freshening green amid the brown, And pussy-willow's clad anew Along the brook in silver gown. The purple finch hath found his tongue, From out the elm tree what a burst! Now once again all things are young, Renewed by love as at the first. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY FAMILIAR DREAM by PAUL VERLAINE SELF-DEPENDENCE by MATTHEW ARNOLD EPIGRAM: TO FOOL, OR KNAVE by BEN JONSON LISTENING by KATHARINE LEE BATES SONNET: LOVE'S HEIGHT by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE POET, AND HIS INTERPRETERS by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 25 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |