 | The Autumn Garden |  |
30
May Day
Each month of May
The gardens have their way,
Suffusing pale pure light
Thro' foliage clean and bright,
Till suns destroy
The soft enigma of their emerald joy.
The gardens have their way,
Suffusing pale pure light
Thro' foliage clean and bright,
Till suns destroy
The soft enigma of their emerald joy.
Their innocence,
Their paradisal sense,—
As of broad fans outspread
Over an angel's head
To hide the blue,
And catch the gliding constellated dew,—
Their paradisal sense,—
As of broad fans outspread
Over an angel's head
To hide the blue,
And catch the gliding constellated dew,—
Each year repeats.
Each year, with magic feats,
Renews the miracle
Of growth and hue and smell,
And, full in sight,
The verdant metamorphosis of light.
Each year, with magic feats,
Renews the miracle
Of growth and hue and smell,
And, full in sight,
The verdant metamorphosis of light.
| The Autumn Garden | |