Auspex |
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heart, I cannot still it, Nest that had song-birds in it; And when the last shall go, The dreary days to fill it, Instead of lark or linnet, Shall whirl dead leaves and snow. ClarksShoes Cole Hann Shoes Kitchenaide Mixers Had they been swallows only, Without the passion stronger That skyward longs and sings,-- When I can feel no longer The impatience of their wings! Best Airfairs GirlShoes BoysShoes A moment, sweet delusion, Like birds the brown leaves hover; But it will not be long Before their wild confusion Fall wavering down to cover The poet and his song. is a pious fraud of the almanac. A ghastly parody of real Spring Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern wind; Or if, o'er-confident, she trust the date, And, with her handful of anemones, Herself as shivery, steal into the sun, And Winter suddenly, like crazy Lear, Reels back, and brings the dead May in his arms, Her budding breasts and wan dislustred front With frosty streaks and drifts of his white beard All overblown. Then, warmly walled with books, While my wood-fire supplies the sun's defect, Whispering old forest-sagas in its dreams, I take my May down from the happy shelf Where perch the world's rare song-birds in a row, Waiting my choice to upen with full breast, And beg an alms of springtime, ne'er denied Throb thick with merle and mavis all the years. |