THE thronged boughs of the shadowy sycamore Still bear young leaflets half the summer through; From when the robin 'gainst the unhidden blue Perched dark, till now, deep in the leafy core, The embowered throstle's urgent wood-notes soar Through summer silence. Still the leaves come new; Yet never rosy-sheathed as those which drew Their spiral tongues from spring-buds heretofore. Within the branching shade of Reverie Dreams even may spring till autumn: yet none be Like woman's budding day-dream spirit-fann'd. Lo! tow'rd deep skies, not deeper than her look, She dreams; till now on her forgotten book Drops the forgotten blossom from her hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM ON MY WEDDING DAY: TO PENELOPE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON AT SUNSET TIME by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE END OF THE EPISODE by THOMAS HARDY THE STALLION OF NIGHT by WILLIAM ROSE BENET L'ALBUM D'UNE CANADIENNE by LEVI BISHOP TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY by WILLIAM BLAKE |