THE fields are chill; the sparse rain has stopped; The colors of Spring teem on every side. With leaping fish the blue pond is full; With singing thrushes the green boughs droop. The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered cheeks; The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist. By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud Blown by the wind slowly scatters away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LETTER ON THE USE OF MACHINE GUNS AT WEDDINGS by KENNETH PATCHEN TEN YEARS OLD by LOUIS UNTERMEYER COUNTESS LAURA by GEORGE HENRY BOKER SILVER by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE INVOCATION [TO LOVE] by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN THE SONG OF THE SMOKE by WILLIAM EDWARD BURGHARDT DU BOIS EASTER WINGS by GEORGE HERBERT |