 | Birds, Bees and Blossoms |  |
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FLOWERS IN MOTION.
Look how they all move merrily,Like children dumb, but full of glee,
Out playing in the windy weather:
Now they are all astir together.
Their music is the winds that blow:
Hark! it strikes up, and off they go;
But this time to another tune—
It is a gentle air of June,
Played slower than the dance of March.
How prettily their necks they arch!
While some with timid look appear,
And seem to move as if in fear
They should through the wrong mazes glide.
See how they hang their heads aside:
Now this bed unto that bed bows,
Change hands, and off they go in rows,
While thousands stand as lookers on,
But when wind-summoned, they are gone.
This dances and then moves aside;
That stands as umpire to decide
Which bed of flowers dances best;
And that seems standing still to rest.
The front is still, up jumps the rear,
And to the hedge goes tripping clear.
The scattered Grasses now join in,
And do their best applause to win.
That tall Cowslip shows some taste,
With one bell resting on its waist,
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Just like the arm of lady fair;
Then daintily each golden finger
Just for a moment deigns to linger
In young Mr. Cowslip's hand.
Now louder blows the breezy band,
Quicker the flowery dancers fly,
Catching fresh colours from the sky.
Now they through golden sunshine sweep,
Anon in darker shadows creep,
As from the changing face of heaven
The shifting shine and shadow's given.
Now a huge cloud inwraps the hill,
The June-wind sleeps and all is still;
The night drops down, each bows its head,
Closes its bell and goes to bed,
And sleeps beneath the summer skies
More soundly through such exercise.
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