Little leaves beside the trail dance your way to town,
Till you find your brother here who remembers yet;
For though a river runs between and the bridge is down,
I've a heart that's roaming and a soul that won't forget.
A sun squats on the house-tops, but his face is hard and dry;
A rain walks up and down the streets, but her voice is harsh—
Sunlight is a different thing where the swallows fly,
And rain-tongues sing with sweeter voice when they're on the marsh.
Once a thousand bending blades stoop to let me pass,
When I sped barefooted through your crowding lines—
Whisper to me gently in the language of the grass,
How I watched the crows of night nest among the pines.
Still the golden pollen smokes, silver runs the rain,
Still the timid mists creep out when the sun lies down—
Oh, I am weary waiting to return to you again,
So take a pale, familiar face out beyond the town.
The Warm Green Sea
The winds run warm on the waves of the grass
that lifts like a scented sea.
No sound of the surf, no sob of the tides;
but the drone of the drowsy bee
Is drawing me out from the purple shades
to wade in the daffodils,
Where the long green billows go drifting by
to lap the feet of the hills.
Like the snow-white spume on the shattered waves
the daisies twist and cream,
Over their heads in a painted mist the myriad
insects gleam.
And the still sea sways in the sun's soft breath
and breaks on the green, green sand,
Till I bare my limbs to the noiseless surf
and wade from the silent land.
The pale stalks eddy from knee to waist and rise
to my sun-flecked face;
Cool on my lips is the daisy foam and the spray
of the Queen Anne's lace.
With half-shut eyes and outstretched arms I swim
through the scented heat.
Oh, never were broad sea winds so warm,
nor Southern seas so sweet?
There's Music in My Heart To-day
There's music in my heart to-day;
The Master-hand is on the keys,
Calling me up to the windy hills
And down to the purple seas.