 | Poems |  |
47
SUMMER EXODUS.
Turns Summer hence her queenly feet,
That early spring the daffodils
To kiss, and martial grasses greet,
While every flower a tear distills.
That early spring the daffodils
To kiss, and martial grasses greet,
While every flower a tear distills.
I cross the stubble fields, all sweet
With shining stalks; a longing fills
My heart, to warble and repeat
The robin in his liquid trills.
With shining stalks; a longing fills
My heart, to warble and repeat
The robin in his liquid trills.
I am, too, happy when I meet
The meadow, where the mountain spills,
So lithe and musical and fleet,
Its limpid tress of brawling rills;
The meadow, where the mountain spills,
So lithe and musical and fleet,
Its limpid tress of brawling rills;
But stay my solitary beat—
And start, as sudden odor thrills
My brain, of spice and tropic heat—
Lo! Autumn on her brazen hills.
And start, as sudden odor thrills
My brain, of spice and tropic heat—
Lo! Autumn on her brazen hills.
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