HEY, piper, in the lean gray grass, The crackling blades o' Hallowmas, Ho, piper, sooth to hear! Pipe me the sweetest thing I know, (Save Yesterday), -- aye, at it so! -- The last rose of the year! Yet hold, my little piper there! The wind has blown the brier bare, That mocked us so with June. They twain are gone the selfsame way -- The red last rose and Yesterday -- What else is worth a tune? Quick, pipe me, pipe this weather fleet, The bitter of it and the sweet; Pipe me the coming snows; The ragged nest upon the wall; Pipe me the saddest of them all, The year without a rose! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STIRRUP-CUP by LOUIS UNTERMEYER AT THE SHRINE by RICHARD KENDALL MUNKITTRICK ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 8. AMORET by MARK AKENSIDE THE OLD TRAMP by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER CHANCES OF REMEMBRANCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A DIALOGUE BETWEEN HOM-VEG AND BALLURE'S RIVER by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |