List the booming from afar, Soft as hum of roving bee, Vague as when on distant bar Falls the cataracts of the sea. Yet again, a sound astray, Was it the humming of the mill? Was it cannon leagues away? Or dynamite beyond the hill? 'Tis the grouse with kindled soul, Wistful of his mate and nest, Sounding forth his vernal roll On his love-enkindled breast. List his fervid morning drum, List his summons soft and deep, Calling spice-bush till she come, Waking bloodroot from her sleep. Ah! ruffled drummer, let thy wings Beat a march the days will heed, Wake and spur the tardy spring, Till minstrel voices jocund ring, And spring is spring in very deed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OF MAIDENS' PRAISE: AN INVOCATION by SAINT ALDHELM ON THE BIRTH OF A FRIEND'S ELDEST SON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ALMA MATER by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |