The woods are átill that were so gay at primrose springing, Through the dry woods the brown field fares are winging, And I alone of love, of love am singing. I sing of love to the haggard palmer-worm, Of love 'mid the crumpled oak-leaves that once were firm, Laughing, I sing of love at the summer's term, - Of love, on a path where the snake's cast skin is lying, Blue feathers on the floor, and no cuckoo flying; I sing to the echo of my own voice crying. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FROM THE AGES WITH A SMILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LITTLE DANCERS by LAURENCE BINYON FRINGED GENTIAN by EMILY DICKINSON EPITAPH ON THE MONUMENT OF SIR WILLIAM DYER by KATHERINE DYER CONCORD HYMN; SUNG AT COMPLETION OF CONCORD MONUMENT, 1836 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON RORY O'MORE; OR, ALL FOR GOOD LUCK by SAMUEL LOVER THE IRISH PEASANT TO HIS MISTRESS by THOMAS MOORE SEVEN AGES OF MAN, FR. AS YOU LIKE IT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |