Alas! By stealth th’ invader came,
Intrenched near lily convents, where
A startled fragrance fills the air.
Green cells are pierced by nettle spike,
And dandelions, shield and pike
Ravish white bells that rang to prayer!
No. 3—Diplomats
Archippus, ambassador
To the poppy emperor,
Enters with his wings extended,
Orange, black and samite blended,
Bows o’er cups of columbines,
And at taste of royal wines
Flashes spangled semaphore
Message—“To the end of the war.”
Philemon, black, green and pearl
Wavers to syringa whirl;
Lightly shod, his errant feet
Win the white pavilions sweet;
As he flits to salvia cells,
Dipping into ruby wells
His antennae, as he goes
Wig-wag—“Beauty has no foes.”
Then bold Turnus, amber-fanned,
Flutters to the brilliant band;
He confers with larkspur sages,
Loiters with the pansy pages,
Tells his heraldry and crest
To the rose’s burning breast;
Soon doth Turnus flutter free,
Wing-endorsing “Liberty.”
Protoparce, grey and blunt,
Enters on his stealthy hunt;
Tongue protuding from his head,
Heavy wings and brutal tread,
Bulging eyes and savage thirst,
Crime’s nocturnal deed he durst;
See him prowling, full of schemes,
Subtle midst the flower-dreams!
Valiant tulips, trust no more!
Close your helmets. This is war!
No. 4—Spies
Ask me no questions. Fireflies last night
Went over all the ground with searching light,
And only found that, where the peony-head
Hung erstwhile white, ’tis now disguised in red.
Tell me not why. I only know that since
I paused at gaze beneath the flowering quince,
A group of tents, some warlike grey, some white
Cover the ground, pitched in a single night.
No explanation gives me peace of mind,
When long battalioned caravans I find
Crossing my garden walk; and when I see
Under-ground trenches grow unceasingly.