COME back before the birds are flown, Before the leaves desert the tree, And, through the lonely alleys blown, Whisper their vain regrets to me Who drive before a blast more rude, The plaything of my gusty mood, In vain pursuing and pursued! Nay, come although the boughs be bare, Though snowflakes fledge the summer's nest, And in some far Ausonian air The thrush, your minstrel, warm his breast. Come, sunshine's treasurer, and bring To doubting flowers their faith in spring, To birds and me the need to sing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISARMAMENT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER TEARS by TUMADIR BINT IBN AL-SHARID AL-KHANSA MARCH MADNESS ON EDGEWATER HILL by BEULAH ALLYNE BELL NOT UNDERSTOOD by THOMAS BRACKEN SATURDAY NIGHT AT SEA by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE PARTING OF LAUNCELOT AND GUENEVERE; A FRAGMENT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON EPITAPH FOR JOSEPH BLACKETT, LATE POET AND SHOEMAKER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |