I

NIGHT AND DAY

When the golden day is done, Through the closing portal, Child and garden, flower and sun, Vanish all things mortal. As the blinding shadows fall, As the rays diminish, Under evening’s cloak, they all Roll away and vanish. Garden darkened, daisy shut, Child in bed, they slumber— Glow-worm in the highway rut, Mice among the lumber. In the darkness houses shine, Parents move with candles; Till on all the night divine Turns the bedroom handles. Till at last the day begins In the east a-breaking, In the hedges and the whins Sleeping birds a-waking. In the darkness shapes of things, Houses, trees, and hedges, Clearer grow; and sparrows’ wings Beat on window ledges. These shall wake the yawning maid; She the door shall open— Finding dew on garden glade And the morning broken. There my garden grows again Green and rosy painted, As at eve behind the pane From my eyes it fainted. Just as it was shut away, Toy-like, in the even, Here I see it glow with day Under glowing heaven. Every path and every plot, Every bush of roses, Every blue forget-me-not Where the dew reposes, “Up!” they cry, “the day is come On the smiling valleys: We have beat the morning drum; Playmate, join your allies!”
II

NEST EGGS

Birds all the sunny day Flutter and quarrel, Here in the arbour-like Tent of the laurel. Here in the fork The brown nest is seated; Four little blue eggs The mother keeps heated. While we stand watching her, Staring like gabies, Safe in each egg are the Bird’s little babies. Soon the frail eggs they shall Chip, and upspringing Make all the April woods Merry with singing. Younger than we are, O children, and frailer, Soon in blue air they’ll be, Singer and sailor. We, so much older, Taller and stronger, We shall look down on the Birdies no longer. They shall go flying With musical speeches High overhead in the Tops of the beeches. In spite of our wisdom And sensible talking, We on our feet must go Plodding and walking.

III

THE FLOWERS

All the names I know from nurse: Gardener’s garters, Shepherd’s purse, Bachelor’s buttons, Lady’s smock, And the Lady Hollyhock. Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny trees for tiny dames— These must all be fairy names! Tiny woods below whose boughs Shady fairies weave a house; Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, Where the braver fairies climb! Fair are grown-up people’s trees, But the fairest woods are these; Where if I were not so tall, I should live for good and all.