THE cold, hard sky and hidden sun, The stiffened trees that shiver so, With bare twigs naked every one To these harsh winds that freeze the snow, -- It was a bitter place to die, Poor birdie! Was it easier, then, On such a world to shut thine eye, And sleep away from life, than when The apple-blossoms tint the air, And, twittering in the sunny trees, Thy fellow-songsters flit and pair, Breasting the warm, caressing breeze? Nay, it were easiest, I feel, Though 't were a brighter Earth to lose, To let the summer shadows steal About thee, bringing their repose; When the noon hush was on the air, And on the flowers the warm sun shined, And Earth seemed all so sweet and fair, That He who made it must be kind. So I, too, could not bear to go From Life in this unfriendly clime, To lie beneath the crusted snow, When the dead grass stands stiff with rime; But under those blue skies of home, Far easier were it to lie down Where the perpetual violets bloom And the rich moss grows never brown; Where linnets never cease to build Their nests, in boughs that always wave To odorous airs, with blessing filled From nestled blossoms round my grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE MADE FOR HIS MOTHER THAT SHE MIGHTE PRAYE by FRANCOIS VILLON AN EPITAPH by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE OLD SHIPS by JAMES ELROY FLECKER DICKENS IN CAMP by FRANCIS BRET HARTE TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE ARGO'S CHANTY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY by WILLIAM BLAKE |