A Country Nosegay
Where have you been through the long sweet hours
That follow the fragrant feet of June?
By the dells and the dingles gathering flowers,
Ere the dew of the dawn be sipped by noon.
And sooth each wilding that buds and blows
You seem to have found and clustered here,
Round the rustic sprays of the child-like rose
That smiles in one's face till it stirs a tear.
The clambering vetch, and the meadow-sweet tall,
That nodded good-day as you sauntered past,
And the poppy flaunting atop of the wall,
Which, proud as glory, will fade as fast.
The campion bladders the children burst,
The bramble that clutches and won't take nay,
And the pensive delicate foxgloves nursed
In woods that curtain from glare of day.
The prosperous elder that always smells
Of homely joys and the cares that bless,
And the woodbine's waxen and honeyed cells,
A hive of the sweetest idleness.
And this wayside nosegay is all for me,
For me, the poet-the word sounds strong;-
Well, for him at least, whatever he be,
Who has loitered his morning away in song.
And though sweetest poems that ever were writ,
With the posy that up to my gaze you lift,
Seem void of music and poor of wit,
Yet I guess your meaning, and take your gift.
For 'tis true among fields and woods I sing,
Aloof from cities, and my poor strains
Were born, like the simple flowers you bring,
In English meadows and English lanes.
If e'er in my verse lurks tender thought,
'Tis borrowed from cushat or blackbird's throat;
If sweetness any, 'tis culled or caught
From boughs that blossom and clouds that float.
No rare exotics nor forced are these;
They budded in darkness and throve in storm;
They drank their colour from rain and breeze,
And from sun and season they took their form.
They peeped through the drift of the winter snows;
They waxed and waned with the waning moon;
Their music they stole from the deep-hushed rose,
And all the year round to them is June.
So let us exchange, nor ask who gains,
What each has saved from the morning hours:
Take, such as they are, my wilding strains,
And I will accept your wilding flowers.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Country Nosegay by Alfred Austin )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- The Man He Killed, Thomas Hardy
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
Poem of the Day
- God, ! - Th@ We N0t, sEaN nOrTh
- only defence against a rhythm - Boi, sEaN nOrTh
- Snuggle 2, Michael P. McParland
- ROAD FROM PARIS 1970, Terry Collett
- '' O '', Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR
- Short and Sweet, Brittany Veloso
- PH: Echo: True Love, Brian Johnston
- Snow Blind..., Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR
- Nostalgia, Rimni chakravarty
- The Spirit-World, Emmanuel George Cefai