To their crimson clinging feet,
And their pretty eyes look sideways to the summer heavens complete.
In a child-abstraction lifted,
Straightway from the bower I passed;
Foot and soul being dimly drifted
Through the greenwood, till, at last,
In the hill-top’s open sunshine, I all consciously was cast.
And I said within me, laughing,
I have found a bower to-day,
A green lusus[52]—fashioned half in