Explore "The Flute of Spring" by Bliss Carman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I know a shining meadow stream / That winds beneath an Eastern hill, / And all year long in sun or gloom / Its murmuring voice is never still.
The summer dies more gently there, / The April flowers are earlier, -- / The first warm rain-wind from the Sound / Sets all their eager hearts astir.
And there when lengthening twilights fall / As softly as a wild bird's wing, / Across the valley in the dusk / I hear the silver flute of spring.