I think I could turn and live awhile with the animals I wandered lonely as a cloud I want to tell you something. In cool noon light, on the edge of spring, In moving-slow he has no Peer.
Some people are flower lovers.
Stop looking like a purse. There once was a Willow, and he was very old, They are cutting down the great plane-trees at the end of the gardens. Thou hearest the nightingale begin the song of spring. And darting down the hedgerow side She scares the little bird Who leaves the nest it cannot hide While plaintive notes are heard. And then it whewed away.