A holy Innocent gone home Without so much as one sharp wounding word: A blessed Michael in heaven's lofty dome Without a sword. Brief dawn and noon and setting time! Our rapid-rounding moon had fled: A black eclipse before the prime Has swallowed up that shining head. Eternity holds up her lookingglass: -- The eclipse of Time will pass, And all that lovely light return to sight. I watch the showers and think of flowers: Alas, my flower that shows no fruit! My snowdrop plucked, my daisy shoot Plucked from the root. Soon Spring will shower, the world will flower, A world of buds will promise fruit, Pear trees will shoot and apples shoot Sound at the root. Bud of an hour, far off you flower; My bud, far off you ripen fruit; My prettiest bud, my straightest shoot Sweet at the root. The youngest bud of five, The least lamb of the fold, -- Bud not to blossom, yet to thrive Away from cold. Lamb which we shall not see Leap at its pretty pranks, Our lamb at rest and full of glee On heavenly banks. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROSE AYLMER by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR RICHARD CORY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON PICTURE-SHOW by SIEGFRIED SASSOON EPITAPH ON TWO YOUNG MEN NAMED LEITCH IN CROSSING THE RIVER SOUTHESK by JAMES BEATTIE EMANCIPATION IN THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, APRIL 16, 1862 by JAMES MADISON BELL THE SONG OF THE COSSACK by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER |