THE raining hour is done, And, threaded on the bough, The May-buds in the sun Are shining emeralds now. As transitory these As things of April will, Yet, trembling in the trees, Is briefer beauty still, For, flowering from the sky Upon an April day, Are silver buds that lie Amid the buds of May. The April emeralds now, While thrushes fill the lane, Are linked along the bough With silver buds of rain. And, straightly though to earth The buds of silver slip, The green buds keep the mirth Of that companionship. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LET IT BE YOU by SARA TEASDALE PRAISE FOR AN URN; IN MEMORIAM: ERNEST NELSON by HAROLD HART CRANE THE HOLLY TREE by ROBERT SOUTHEY AN HYMN OF HEAVENLY LOVE by EDMUND SPENSER O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! by WALT WHITMAN LINES TO BE SPOKEN BY THOMAS DENMAN.....WHEN FOUR YEARS OLD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |