Rivers wind unnoticed
through the brown hills
and budding trees,
where dark, little birds
pierce the blue sky.
I drift in vague symmetry
lying somewhere on the grass,
among the wild onion sprouts,
and watch the
cherry blossoms fall
like tardy flakes of winter snow.
I want to hug the earth
and kiss the sky;
but one is too big,
the other too high.
The billowing clouds
drift stately by,
as imperious as spirit barks
of long-dead pharaohs
and their queens;
and I dream of Cleopatra
and beautiful Nefertiti
so long ago on the fertile Nile.
I should quit dreaming,
rise up and mow the lawn,
but it will just grow back.
And no one will say,
a thousand years from now,
'Here lies that great conqueror of the grass.'
No, I think the idle man is wise
who takes his time upon the grass
to revel in the blessings of the spring,
the things that cannot last.
kendall thomas's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Spring Blessings by kendall thomas )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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