I HEARD the crickets all about, Drunk with sunshine, shout and shout. Mountain-cranberry by the ledge, Fingering the sun-warmed edge, Fed its berries round and red On the mountain's flinty bread, And the hazel crooked its stalk To nurse its nuts against the rock. In the seam—O fair, fair, fair!— Feathered grasses shone like hair; Up there on the mountain-side They had yielded seed, and died. —This much I was quick to mark, Against the winter and the dark. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUNCHES OF GRAPES by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE BARNEY'S INVITATION by PHILIP FRENEAU THAT NATURE IS A HERACLITEAN FIRE & OF THE COMFORT OF THE RESURRECTION by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY WOMAN'S WILL by JOHN GODFREY SAXE THE BUTTERFLY by MARGARET AVISON ON THE VIRGINITY OF THE VIRGIN MARY AND JOHANNA SOUTHCOTT by WILLIAM BLAKE |