How sweet this morning air in spring, When tender is the grass, and wet! I see some little leaves have not Outgrown their curly childhood yet; And cows no longer hurry home, However sweet a voice cries 'Come.' Here, with green Nature all around, While that fine bird the skylark sings; Who now in such a passion is, He flies by it, and not his wings; And many a blackbird, thrush and sparrow Sing sweeter songs than I may borrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MINOR POET by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET TO THE FAIR CLARINDA, WHO MADE LOVE TO ME by APHRA BEHN TO A LILY by JAMES MATHEWES LEGARE CANE: NOVEMBER COTTON FLOWER by JEAN TOOMER ON THE MARRIAGE OF A BEAUTEOUS YOUNG GENTLEWOMAN WITH AN ANCIENT MAN by FRANCIS BEAUMONT OLD ETCHINGS by MARGIE B. BOSWELL |