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When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Flower
Soft
Burst
Silken
Wind
Birds
April
Chalice
Tree
Flowers
June
Airs
Grew
Golden
Insects
Flush
High
Wings
Winds
Maple
Sky
Wing
Humming
Bird
Multiple
Scarlet
Air
Opened
Multitude
Tulip

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That make the meadows green and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-- Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
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It is a sultry day the sun has drunk The dew that lay upon the morning grass There is no rustling in the lofty elm That canopies my dwelling, and its shade Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint And interrupted murmur of the bee, Settling on the sick flowers, And then again Instantly on the wing.
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Features, the great soul's apparent seat.
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The victory of endurance born.
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