Of the pulpy, odorous, hidden quest,
First gift of the fruity months, and best.
3.
Crates of the laden baskets cool
Under the trees at the meadow’s edge,
Covered with grass and dripping sedge,
And lily-leaves from the shaded pool;
Filled, and ready to be borne
To market before the morrow morn.
Beside them, gazing at the skies,