UNDER the full-blown linden and the plane, That link their arms above In mute, mysterious love, I hear the strain! Is it the far postilion's horn, Mellowed by starlight, floating up the valley, Or song of love-sick peasant, borne Across the fields of fragrant corn, And poplar-guarded alley? Now from the woodbine and the unseen rose What new delight is showered? The warm wings of the air Drop into downy indolence and close, So sweetly overpowered: But nothing sleeps, though rest seems everywhere. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DARKNESS IS THINNING by GREGORY I A DROP OF DEW by ANDREW MARVELL RIDDLE: SEWING NEEDLE AND THREAD by MOTHER GOOSE BALLADE OF BROKEN FLUTES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THERE WAS A CHILD WENT FORTH by WALT WHITMAN |