 | Narcissus and Other Poems |  |
154
SUMMER.
Dreaming all day, as of old, in the far-off heights of the sky,
The summer floats orbed in gold, while the hours speed silently by;
The clouds are clad as in dreams, and the air is girt with a sleep,
And the sound of its swaying seems like the wistful sigh of the deep.
The summer floats orbed in gold, while the hours speed silently by;
The clouds are clad as in dreams, and the air is girt with a sleep,
And the sound of its swaying seems like the wistful sigh of the deep.
The forests stand dark in the sun, and the meadows are bright between,
All gathered and melted in one, like a veil of luminous sheen,
And rolled, as a wonderful weft, o'er the purple shoulder of Earth,
Or a bridal vesture left from moments of music and mirth.
All gathered and melted in one, like a veil of luminous sheen,
155
Or a bridal vesture left from moments of music and mirth.
So all is still in the vale, all silent aloft on the wold;
The trees have forgotten their tale, the mystical murmur of old;
All sound of music is done in sky and meadow and glade,
And the whole wood sleeps in the sun, where the sunlight sleeps in the shade.
The trees have forgotten their tale, the mystical murmur of old;
All sound of music is done in sky and meadow and glade,
And the whole wood sleeps in the sun, where the sunlight sleeps in the shade.
The drowsy tips of the leaves are dipped in the heat, as a flood,
And their idle dalliance weaves strange magic of sleep in the blood;
Through the tall grass spreadeth the spell and the hours are charmed to rest—
O the spirit of Spring is well, but the silence of Summer is best.
And their idle dalliance weaves strange magic of sleep in the blood;
Through the tall grass spreadeth the spell and the hours are charmed to rest—
O the spirit of Spring is well, but the silence of Summer is best.
| Narcissus and Other Poems | |