BASKETS of ripe fruit in air The bird-songs seem, suspended where Between the hairy leaves trills dew, All tasting of fresh green anew. Ma'am, I've heard your laughter flare Through your waspish-gilded hair: Feathered masks, Pots of peas, Janus asks Naught of these, Creaking water Brightly striped, Now I've caught her -- Shrieking biped. Flute sounds jump And turn together, Changing clumps Of glassy feather. In among the Pots of peas Naiad changes -- Quick as these. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOUNTAIN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THERE WAS A CHILD WENT FORTH by WALT WHITMAN A PRAYER FOR MY DAUGHTER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS AUNT CAROLINE by ANNYE LEWIS ALLISON DIRGE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD AIR AN' LIGHT by WILLIAM BARNES CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 9. OF HUMILITY by WILLIAM BASSE |