'Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MY BOOKS by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON BRIDAL BALLAD by EDGAR ALLAN POE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 27 by ALFRED TENNYSON A PRAYER FOR MY DAUGHTER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WHEN JUNE IS COME by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |