Now, while the long-delaying ash assumes The delicate April green, and, loud and clear, Through the cool, yellow, mellow twilight glooms, The thrush's song enchants the captive ear; Now, while a shower is pleasant in the falling, Stirring the still perfume that wakes around; Now, that doves mourn, and from the distance calling, The cuckoo answers, with a sovereign sound, -- Come, with thy native heart, O true and tried! But leave all books; for what with converse high, Flavoured with Attic wit, the time shall glide On smoothly, as a river floweth by, Or as on stately pinion, through the grey Evening, the culver cuts his liquid way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIMBO by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE MENAPHON: SEPHESTIA'S [CRADLE] SONG TO HER CHILD by ROBERT GREENE HIS IMMORTALITY by THOMAS HARDY SONNET: SILENCE by THOMAS HOOD OF THE MANNER OF ADDRESSING CLOUDS by WALLACE STEVENS O MAGNET-SOUTH by WALT WHITMAN JIM DALLEY by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE ELDER'S WARNING; A LAY OF THE CONVOCATION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |