Shyly the silver-hatted mushrooms make <br /> Soft entrance through, <br />And undelivered lovers, half awake, <br /> Hear noises in the dew <br /> <br />Yellow in all the earth and in the skies, <br /> The world would seem <br />Faint as a widow mourning with soft eyes <br /> And falling into dream. <br /> <br />Up the long hill I see the slow plough leave <br /> Furrows of brown; <br />Dim is the day and beautiful: I grieve <br /> To see the sun go down. <br /> <br />But there are suns a many for mine eyes <br /> Day after day: <br />Delightsome in grave greenery they rise, <br /> Red oranges in May. <br /> <br /><br /><br />John Shaw Neilson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/may-5/
