AS up and down the world I go, All ancient do the places show; The gardens full of honey bees, The roofs, the high and windy trees. April begins. The half-grown pear, Out in the lane buds white and fair; Long since -- for I can see it plain -- It blossomed in just such a lane. This tender light upon the glass, Long since I saw across the grass, Perhaps in Rouen, perhaps in Rome; Where'er -- I know that it was home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF JOHN KEATS' DEATH by SARA TEASDALE LIBERTY FOR ALL by WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON MARSYAS by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS COMPOSED BY THE SIDE OF GRASMERE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH HE REMEMBERS FORGOTTEN BEAUTY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS AN AUTUMNAL THOUGHT, 1795 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE RWOSE IN THE DARK by WILLIAM BARNES |