An April Morning - Poem by George Sterling
Slow to the wanton sun's desire
The vestal-bosomed buds unfold,
Till poppies flaunt a silken fire,
And buttercups a glassy gold.
How gently fare the cloudy flocks
To pastures girdled by the sea!
The lizards twitch along the rocks,
And subtle odors lure the bee.
There broods a peace upon the hills,
Too vast for morning winds to break,
Tho' murmurs throng the broken rills,
And voices of the woodland wake,
Till half I turn to hear again
The flutes of Arcady at dawn,
And rout of hurrying nymphs that feign
To dread the kisses of the faun.
Comments about An April Morning by George Sterling
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You