Home Thoughts, From Abroad
Oh, to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge—
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Home Thoughts, From Abroad by Robert Browning )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- I Belong, Anthony Di'anno
- Focus On Your Studies, Ronell Warren Alman
- Around the eyes, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
- A Lovely Child, Akhtar Jawad
- Courtny Stoned, shelly keats
- Politically right, Hardik Vaidya
- Pussy cat, gajanan mishra
- Geweldskoorts, Madrason writer
- Sine Curve, Hardik Vaidya
- Alone in the Winepress, Terrance Tracy