Once, ’mid cathedral Carolinian pines,
We saw the Springtide, at its radiant birth,
Kindle to fragrant gold the coiling vines,
And make a garden of the wakened earth;
And every morning heard
Within the treetops, melody linked with mirth,
The hidden mocking-bird.
XVII
And while the cardinal through the waving bredes
Of pendulous moss swift flitted like a flame,