Yes, I love it, and have grown
Melancholy in that love
And that memory alone
Of perfection such, whereof
You could sanctify a stone.
And where'er your poppies swing—
There we walk,—as if a bee
Fanned them with his puny wing,—
Down your garden shadowy
In the hush the evenings bring.
FIVE FANCIES.
I
THE GLADIOLAS.
As tall as the lily, as tall as the rose,
And almost as tall as the hollyhocks,
Ranked breast to breast in sentinel rows
Stand the gladiola stocks.
And some are red as the humming-bird's blood
And some are pied as the butterfly race,
And each is shaped like a velvet hood
Gold-lined with delicate lace.
For you know the goblins that come like musk
To tumble and romp in the flowers' laps,
When you see big fire-fly eyes in the dusk,
Hang there their goblin caps.