"SWEET! Sweet! Sweet!" sings the bird upon the bough. But though he may call for sweetness We have other things to witness, Not all cherry-pie and neatness, Now. "Mourn! Mourn! Mourn!" cry the owls among the vines. But it's neither death nor fleetness That have any utter fitness, Not a final joy or sorrow, As we press out wines. "Change! Slow change!" ticks the church clock through the snow. And somehow 'twixt winter's dying And spring apple-blossoms flying And the summer hops a-tying... It's now haughty and now humble Change! Slow change! And rough-and-tumble. Down to-day and up to-morrow That our songs sing now. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONE CROWDED HOUR, FR. OLD MORTALITY by WALTER SCOTT CHORUS OF CLOUD-MAIDENS: STROPHE, FR. THE CLOUDS by ARISTOPHANES VACANT STALL by ELIZABETH WILCOX BEASLEY EPITAPH by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE FEAST OF THE GODS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET SPRING PLOWING by RUTH E. BILLEY MISERY: SORDID SCENE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |