HERE where the bee slept and the orchis lifted Her honeying pipes of pearl, her velvet lip, Only the swart leaves of the oak lie drifted In sombre fellowship. Here where the flame-weed set the lands alight, Lies the bleak upland, webbed and crowned with white. Build high the logs, O love, and in thine eyes Let me believe the summer lingers late. We shall not miss her passive pageantries, We are not desolate, When on the sill, across the window bars, Kind winter flings her flowers and her stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FORCE OF LOVE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES WHY I WRITE NOT OF LOVE by BEN JONSON YARROW VISITED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE RUNNER WITH THE LOTS by LEONIE ADAMS TO A LADY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |