Gone were but the Winter, Come were but the Spring, I would go to a covert Where the birds sing. Where in the whitethorn Singeth a thrush, And a robin sings In the holly-bush. Full of fresh scents Are the budding boughs Arching high over A cool green house: Full of sweet scents, And whispering air Which sayeth softly: "We spread no snare; "Here dwell in safety, Here dwell alone, With a clear stream And a mossy stone. "Here the sun shineth Most shadily; Here is heard an echo Of the far sea, Though far off it be." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STORIES ARE MADE OF MISTAKES by JAMES GALVIN UNWANTED MEMORY by CLARENCE MAJOR A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SONG FOR THE FIRST OF THE MONTH by DOROTHY PARKER THE FOUR BROTHERS by CARL SANDBURG LINES ON LEAVING THE BEDFORD STR. SCHOOL HOUSE by GEORGE SANTAYANA |