He thrid the copse, he climbed the fence,
At last the top did scale;
But, lo, the rainbow, vanished thence,
Was shining in the vale!
"Still, here it stood! yes, here," he said,
"Its very foot was set!
I saw this fir-tree through the red,
This through the violet!"
He searched and searched, while down the skies
Went slow the slanting sun.
At length he lifted hopeless eyes,
And day was nearly done!
Beyond the vale, above the heath,
High flamed the crimson west;
His mother's cottage lay beneath
The sky-bird's rosy breast.
"Oh, joy," he cried, "not all the way
Farther from home we go!
The rain will come another day
And bring another bow!"
Long ere he reached his mother's cot,
Still tiring more and more,
The red was all one cold gray blot,
And night lay round the door.
But when his mother stroked his head
The night was grim in vain;
And when she kissed him in his bed
The rainbow rose again.
Soon, things that are and things that seem
Did mingle merrily;
He dreamed, nor was it all a dream,
His mother had the key.
SOMNIUM MYSTICI
A Microcosm In Terza Rima.