The Throstle
"Summer is coming, summer is coming,
I know it, I know it, I know it.
Light again, leaf again, love again."
Yes, my wild little Poet.
Sing the new year in under the blue.5
Last year you sang it as gladly.
"New, new, new, new!" Is it then so new
That you should carol so madly?
"Love again, song again, nest again, young again."
Never a prophet so crazy!10
And hardly a daisy as yet, little friend,
See, there is hardly a daisy.
"Here again, here, here, here, happy year!"
O warble, unchidden, unbidden!
Summer is coming, is coming, my dear,15
And all the winters are hidden.
JANE TAYLOR
England, 1783-1824
The Violet
Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew,
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.
And yet it was a lovely flower, 5
Its colors bright and fair!
It might have graced a rosy bower
Instead of hiding there.
Yet there it was content to bloom
In modest tints arrayed; 10
And there diffused its sweet perfume
Within the silent shade.
Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see,
That I may also learn to grow 15
In sweet humility.