NOW blow the daffodils on slender stalks, Small, keen, quick flames that leap up in the mould, And run along the dripping garden-walks: Swallows come whirring back to chimneys old. Blown by the Wind, the pear-tree's flakes of snow Lie heaped in the thick grasses of the lane; And all the sweetness of the Long Ago Sounds in that song the thrush sends through the rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A PREPARATORY HYMNE TO THE WEEK OF MEDITACIONS UPON, & DEVOUT EXERCISE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT WINTER WIZARDRY by LAURA S. BECK EPITAPH by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES HOPE PREFERRED by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON FOR WE ARE A PART by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND by JOHN BYROM ON THE MARRIAGE OF THOMAS KILLIGREW & CECILIA CROFTS: MORNING STORMY by THOMAS CAREW |