The Sun at noon to higher air, <br />Unharnessing the silver Pair <br />That late before his chariot swam, <br />Rides on the gold wool of the Ram. <br /> <br />So braver notes the storm-cock sings <br />To start the rusted wheel of things, <br />And brutes in field and brutes in pen <br />Leap that the world goes round again. <br /> <br />The boys are up the woods with day <br />To fetch the daffodils away, <br />And home at noonday from the hills <br />They bring no dearth of daffodils. <br /> <br />Afield for palms the girls repair, <br />And sure enough the palms are there, <br />And each will find by hedge or pond <br />Her waving silver-tufted wand. <br /> <br />In farm and field through all the shire <br />The eye beholds the heart's desire; <br />Ah, let not only mine be vain, <br />For lovers should be loved again.<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/march-4/
