In a garden that I know, Only palest blossoms blow. There the lily, purest nun, Hides her white face from the sun. And the maiden rose-bud stirs In a garment fair as hers. One shy bird, with folded wings Sits within the leaves and sings; Sits and sings the daylight long, Just a patient, plaintive song. Other gardens greet the spring With a blaze of blossoming; Other song-birds, piping clear, Chorus from the branches near; But my blossoms, palest known, Bloom for me and me alone, And my bird, though sad and lonely, Sings for me, and for me only. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YARROW REVISITED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE COLD WAVE OF 32 B.C. by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ON THE STATUE OF AN ANGEL, BY BIENAIME by WASHINGTON ALLSTON THE MOCKING-BIRD by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD BLACK OAKS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |