Lo, silence, like a roving bee Upon her daily round, To fill the hive of memory Despoils each blossom-sound, And winters, as the past devours Whate'er the present yields, The promise of immortal flowers For time's unfallowed fields. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER NIGHT-BROADWAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE WORLD'S WAY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE FROGS: AN 'AESCHYLEAN' CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES DEATH AND THE MONK by ARTHUR E. BAKER ARIZONA SUMMER by ELEANOR BALDWIN THE TIME OF LOVE by FLORENCE E. BALDWIN |