When the springtime is sweet And the birds repeat Their new song in the leaves. 'Tis meet A man go where he will. But from where my heart is set No message I get; My heart all wakes and grieves; Defeat Or luck, I must have my fill. Our love comes out Like the branch that turns about On the top of the hawthorne, With frost and hail at night Suffers despite 'Till the sun come, and the green leaf on the bough. I remember the young day When we set strife away, And she gave me such gesning, Her love and her ring: God grant I die not by any man's stroke 'Till I have my hand' neath her cloak. I care not for their clamour Who have come between me and my charmer, For I know how words run loose, Big talk and little use. Spoilers of pleasure, We take their measure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THESMOPHORIAZUSAE: WOMEN'S CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES THE MARIPOSA LILY by INA DONNA COOLBRITH THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 70. THE HILL-SUMMIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI RUNNING TO PARADISE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS MARSH MUSIC by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE MINSTREL; OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS by JAMES BEATTIE |