But the beauty of the fleeces,
And the soft eyes peering at me through the woodbine lattices!
And beyond them, and the network
Of the dogwood, and the fretwork
Of the interlacing grapevines, and across the meadow land,
I can see the color showing
Where the winter-wheat is growing,
With the corn encamped about it like a plumed protecting band.
While among the many-seeded
Tufts of russet weeds, unheeded,