 | Fantasy and Passion |  |
71
VESTA.
When skies are starless yet when day is done,
When odors of the freshened sward are sweeter,
When light is dreamy round the sunken sun,
At limit of the grassy lane I meet her.
When odors of the freshened sward are sweeter,
When light is dreamy round the sunken sun,
At limit of the grassy lane I meet her.
She steals a gracious hand across the gate;
My own its timid touch an instant flatters;
Below the glooming leaves we linger late,
And gossip of a thousand airy matters.
My own its timid touch an instant flatters;
Below the glooming leaves we linger late,
And gossip of a thousand airy matters.
I gladden that the hay is stored with luck;
I smile to hear the pumpkin-bed is turning;
I mourn the lameness of her speckled duck;
I marvel at the triumphs of her churning.
I smile to hear the pumpkin-bed is turning;
I mourn the lameness of her speckled duck;
I marvel at the triumphs of her churning.
From cow to cabbage and from horse to hen,
I treat bucolics with my rustic charmer,
At heart the most unpastoral of men,
Converted by this dainty little farmer.
I treat bucolics with my rustic charmer,
At heart the most unpastoral of men,
Converted by this dainty little farmer.
And yet if one soft syllable I chance,
As late below the glooming leaves we linger,
The pretty veto sparkles in her glance,
And cautions in her brown up-lifted finger.
As late below the glooming leaves we linger,
The pretty veto sparkles in her glance,
And cautions in her brown up-lifted finger.
O happy trysts at blossom-time of stars!
O moments when the glad blood thrills and quickens!
O all-inviolable gateway-bars!
O Vesta of the milking-pails and chickens!
O moments when the glad blood thrills and quickens!
O all-inviolable gateway-bars!
O Vesta of the milking-pails and chickens!
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