Transforms the tufted weeds to shining sheaves,
The tangled grass to waving harvest grain,
The marshy muskeg to a purple plain.
This is a path of velvet from the loom
Of droning Summer. Never human hand
Wove such a pattern, bright with rose abloom
Along its border. Never artist planned
This brilliant carpet flung across the land.
Now princes leave their castles, kings their thrones,
And unattended walk these sylvan aisles.