LILACS
In lonely gardens deserted—unseen—
Oh! lovely lilacs of purple and white,
You are dipping down through a mist of green;
For the morning sun's delight.
And the velvet bee, all belted with black,
Drinks deep of the wine which your flagons hold,
Clings close to your plumes while he fills his pack
With a load of burnished gold.
You hide the fences with blossoms of snow,
And sweeten the shade of castle towers;
Over low, grey gables you brightly blow,
Like amethysts turned to flowers.
The tramp on the highway—ragged and bold—
Wears you close to his heart with jaunty air;
You rest in my lady's girdle of gold,
And are held against her hair.
In God's own acre your tender flowers,
Bend down to the grasses and seem to sigh
For those who count time no more by hours—
Whose summers have all passed by—
But at eventide the south wind will sing,
Like a gentle priest who chanteth a prayer;
And thy purple censers he'll set a-swing,
To perfume the twilight air.
APRIL
April! April! April!
With a mist of green on the trees—
And a scent of the warm brown broken earth
On every wandering breeze;
What, though thou be changeful,
Though thy gold turns to grey again,
There's a robin out yonder singing,
Singing in the rain.
April! April! April!
'Tis the Northland hath longed for thee,
She hath gazed toward the South with aching eyes
Full long and patiently.
Come now—tell us, sweeting,
Thou laggard so lovely and late,
Dost know there's no joy like the joy that comes
When hearts have learned to wait?
PAEANS
Oh! I will hold fast to Joy!
I will not let him depart—
He shall close his beautiful rainbow wings
And sing his song in my heart.
And I will live with Delight!
I will know what the children know
When they dance along with the April wind
To find where the catkins grow!