Spring is come back, and the little voices are calling, The birds are calling, the little green buds on the trees, A song in the street, and an old and sleepy tune; All the sounds of the spring are falling, falling, Gentle as rain, on my heart, and I hear all these As a sick man hears men talk from the heart of a swoon. The clamours of spring are the same old delicate noises, The earth renews its magical youth at a breath, And the whole world whispers a well-known, secret thing; And I hear, but the meaning has faded out of the voices; Something has died in my heart: is it death or sleep? I know not, but I have forgotten the meaning of spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FACADE: 22. ALONE by EDITH SITWELL THE HERITAGE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL FANTAISIES DECORATIVES: 2. LES BALLOONS by OSCAR WILDE QUATRAIN: OMAR KHAYYAM (AFTER FITZGERALD) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |