They hide within the hollows and they creep into the dell,
Those little crumbling headstones in the vale of Estabelle.
EVEN-TIME
IN meadows deep with hay, I see
The reapers' steel flash sparklingly;
And bobolinks at play;—
And in the iris-bordered coves
Frail lilies, shaded by the groves,
Moor all the golden day.