The fringéd vallance of your eyes advance, Shake off your canopied and downy trance; Phoebus already quaffs the morning dew, Each does his daily lease of life renew. He darts his beams on the lark's mossy house, And from his quiet tenement does rouse The little charming and harmonious fowl, Which sings its lump of body to a soul; Swiftly it clambers up in the steep air With warbling throat, and makes each note a stair. This the solicitous lover straight alarms, Who too long slumbered in his Celia's arms. And now the swelling spunges of the night With aching heads stagger from their delight; Slovenly tailors to their needles haste; Already now the moving shops are placed By those who crop the treasures of the fields, And all those gems the ripening summer yields. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOOKER T. WASHINGTON by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE SONG OF A HEATHEN by RICHARD WATSON GILDER SOLUTION OF THE CHARADE IN THE MUSEUM FOR OCTOBER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNET: 20 by RICHARD BARNFIELD TO THE DEAD by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE NIGHT OF THE DEAD by JULIEN AUGUSTE PELAGE BRIZEUX |