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THE SPRING IN FLORIDA |
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|
 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
243
THE SPRING IN FLORIDA
I
Crab-apples make the western belt
Of hamak one gay holiday of pink;
And through palmetto deeps, on winds like felt,
The jasmine odors sink.
Of hamak one gay holiday of pink;
And through palmetto deeps, on winds like felt,
The jasmine odors sink.
The wind blows blurs of peach and pearl
Around the villa by the river's side;
The guava blossoms and the orange-trees whirl
Aroma far and wide.
Around the villa by the river's side;
The guava blossoms and the orange-trees whirl
Aroma far and wide.
“He courts her!” sings the mocking-bird;
“He courts her, and she misses
This word, or that, she might have heard,
Had he not crushed a sweeter word
On her sweet mouth with kisses.
He courts her.”
“He courts her, and she misses
This word, or that, she might have heard,
Had he not crushed a sweeter word
On her sweet mouth with kisses.
He courts her.”
II
Chameleons haunt the sunlight there,
Where lemons firmament with blooms the way:
The white rose gives its soul up and the air
Ensnares it in a ray.
Where lemons firmament with blooms the way:
244
Ensnares it in a ray.
Great lilies open mouths of musk
And stun the wind with scent; the loaded light
Swoons with japonicas; and, tusk on tusk,
Magnolias bud in sight.
And stun the wind with scent; the loaded light
Swoons with japonicas; and, tusk on tusk,
Magnolias bud in sight.
The red-bird sings, “Oh, haste, haste, haste!
Sweetheart! no longer tarry!
Go, clasp her sweetly by the waist!
And ask her, like a poppy faced,
Sweetheart! if she will marry.
Oh, haste, haste, haste!”
Sweetheart! no longer tarry!
Go, clasp her sweetly by the waist!
And ask her, like a poppy faced,
Sweetheart! if she will marry.
Oh, haste, haste, haste!”
III
There the verandah, spilled and spun
With deep bignonia, foaming all its frame
With fiery blooms, seems pouring for the sun
A cataract of flame.
With deep bignonia, foaming all its frame
With fiery blooms, seems pouring for the sun
A cataract of flame.
The oleander hedges soak
The dusk with fragrance: and the gray moss sweeps
Its streamers from the cypress and live-oak
Where blue the ocean sleeps.
The dusk with fragrance: and the gray moss sweeps
Its streamers from the cypress and live-oak
Where blue the ocean sleeps.
245
“Oh, love, love, love!” the wood-dove coos;
“Oh, love, love, love, for ever!
They who the crimson rose refuse,
All other flowers, too, may lose—
So choose thou now or never!
Oh, love, love, love!”
“Oh, love, love, love, for ever!
They who the crimson rose refuse,
All other flowers, too, may lose—
So choose thou now or never!
Oh, love, love, love!”
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |