I swung The gate and entered. All along the edge Of bright gravel fallen lilac blooms Or young leaf-sheaths were scattered, and small groups Of coming toadstools showed where showers had lain. Under the wavering shades of trees I turned, Skirting the garden's boxwood bordered ways, Its rhododendrons bursting into flower, Flaming beneath the sunshine, and at length Rested upon an orchard arbour seat. All over bench and table, ground and sward, The young green cherries lay, yet overhead, Glittering like beads, they still seemed thick as leaves Upon the boughs. And young green apples too, Scattered by prodigal winds, peeped here and there, Among the clover. Through the black boughs shone Clouds of a white heat, in the cold blue depths Poised steadily, and all about them rang Those songs of skylarks. Other sounds were there: The click mistimed of hedge-shears; the brave bee Passing with trumpet gladness; and the leaves Waving against each other. Soon this way Along the further hedge-top came the shears; Two wielding arms assiduous and a face The prickly screen disclosed. Far down the line By slow degrees went shears and arms, while I Marked the still toppling twigs, until at length They passed beyond the fruit-trees, and I turned To other things. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY DEARLING by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN THE SKELETON IN ARMOR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND MORE by ROBERT MORRIS THE ALLIGATOR by BEATRICE WITTE RAVENEL A THOUGHT ON DEATH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD VERSES TO A YOUNG FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON |