THE poplar shows its white teeth to the gust , Driven out the east and up the still highway; The alders bow like reeds. A cloud of dust Whirls by, and with it scents from hollows gray, Scents from a hundred fields, the petals fair Of blossoming brambles by the fence a-row. The wind passes, and Io, each bush is bare! There at the gate, the one rose late agrow Lies in the path, a little quaking heap Of crimson leaves. The lily there is now A little snow blown through the grasses deep. Light airs and gentle sounds haunt blade and bough; Then, in the silence following again, Fall sudden-sweet great drops of silver rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ELF CHILD by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS UNPERFECTED by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON PSALM 3. DOMINE QUID MULTIPLICATI by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE ROAD TO SLUMBERLAND by MARY DOW BRINE A LESSON OF MERCY by ALICE CARY THE MAID OF THE MOOR, OR THE WATER-FIENDS, SELECTION by GEORGE COLMAN THE YOUNGER |