MY harp is out of tune, and so I take An oaten straw some shepherd dropped of old. It is the hour when Beauty doth awake With trembling limbs upon the dewy cold. And shapes of green show where the woolly fold Slept in the winding shelter of the brake. This I will pipe for you, how all the year The one I love like Beauty takes her way. Wrapped in the wind of winter she doth cheer The loud woods like a sunbeam of the May. This I will pipe for you the whole blue day Seated with Pan upon the mossy weir. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ST. FRANCIS EINSTEIN OF THE DAFFODILS (FIRST VERSION) by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS OUR COUNTRY'S CALL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ODE ON MELANCHOLY by JOHN KEATS THE PILGRIM FATHERS by JOHN PIERPONT THE VILLAGE MUNITIONS CO., INC.; FORMERLY THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS LET HER SLEEP! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS LINES TO ROBERT ALDERSON UPON HIS DEPARTURE FROM WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |