BLOSSOMS as old as May I scatter here, And a blue wave I lifted from the stream. It shall not know when winter days are drear Or March is hoarse with blowing. But a-dream The laurel boughs shall hold a canopy Peacefully over it the winter long, Till all the birds are back from oversea, And April rainbows win a blackbird's song. And when the war is over I shall take My lute a-down to it and sing again Songs of the whispering things amongst the brake, And those I love shall know them by their strain. Their airs shall be the blackbird's twilight song, Their words shall be all flowers with fresh dews hoar. -- But it is lonely now in winter long, And, God! to hear the blackbird sing once more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHTS WITHOUT SLEEP by SARA TEASDALE THE EXILE TO HIS WIFE by JOSEPH BRENAN THE BLUEBELL by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE SISTERS by JOHN BANISTER TABB AN ELECTIVE COURSE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS |