Soft as the morning When South winds blow, Sweet as peach-orchards When blossoms are seen, Pure as a fresco Of roses and snow, Or an opal serene. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LETTERS TO DEAD IMAGISTS by CARL SANDBURG BUCOLIC COMEDY: SPRING by EDITH SITWELL ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER by JOHN KEATS LINES; SUGGESTED BY GRAVES TWO ENGLISH SOLDIERS ON CONCORD by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL FRANCE; THE 18TH YEAR OF THESE STATES by WALT WHITMAN ROUNDEL by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |