When I can't bear to watch birds play I lie inside my thatched hut the cherry trees are bright pink the willows beginning to sway the rising sun swallows blue peaks clearing clouds wash a green pool who thinks of leaving the dusty rut and heading south for Cold Mountain | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHER JUNKIE by CLARENCE MAJOR IN A STRANGE CITY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME by GEORGE GORDON BYRON SECRET LOVE; SONG by JOHN CLARE AGAINST HOPE by ABRAHAM COWLEY THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND MORE by ROBERT MORRIS |