The wind that waves the blossoms Sang, sang, sang from age to age. The flowers were made curious by this joy. "Oh, wind," they said, "why sing you at your labour, While we, pink beneficiaries, sing not, But idle, idle, idle from age to age?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PEOPLE'S SURROUNDINGS by MARIANNE MOORE TEARS IN SLEEP by LOUISE BOGAN A WIFE IN LONDON by THOMAS HARDY BY THE SEA by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE SOFTNESS OF SYBARIS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IMAGES: 5 by RICHARD ALDINGTON |