 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
107
THE DREAMS OF SUMMER
Now drowsy Summer takes the world
And rocks it in her arms,
A poppy flower, it seems, soft curled
Upon her breast that warms.
Among the fields with Indolence,
In gypsy gown of ragged gold,
She walks; or by some tangled fence
Sits with the Dreams of old.
And rocks it in her arms,
A poppy flower, it seems, soft curled
Upon her breast that warms.
Among the fields with Indolence,
In gypsy gown of ragged gold,
She walks; or by some tangled fence
Sits with the Dreams of old.
Upstarting when, in rebel red,
The Sunset pitches camp
On uplands of the heaven o'erhead,
She lights her signal lamp,
The moon, she swings so all may see
The twilight way which she must take,
Putting to bed the bird and bee,
And life in field and brake.
The Sunset pitches camp
On uplands of the heaven o'erhead,
She lights her signal lamp,
The moon, she swings so all may see
The twilight way which she must take,
Putting to bed the bird and bee,
And life in field and brake.
When Night leads from the folded hills
Its clan of gypsy dreams,
Upon her cricket-flute she shrills,
And scatters glowworm gleams;
Then slips the moon-moth from its weed
On pearl-orbed wings of seal and tan,
And calls the wild Stealth forth to feed
That lives in fear of man.
Its clan of gypsy dreams,
Upon her cricket-flute she shrills,
And scatters glowworm gleams;
Then slips the moon-moth from its weed
On pearl-orbed wings of seal and tan,
And calls the wild Stealth forth to feed
That lives in fear of man.
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She drives the warm winds through the trees,
And thuds the earth with fruit;
The tumbled ripeness, no one sees,
Smells bruised beneath the foot:
She herds the sky's cloud-fleeces white
On acres of the star-flowered blue,
And sows the dusk with firefly-light,
And plants it with the dew.
And thuds the earth with fruit;
The tumbled ripeness, no one sees,
Smells bruised beneath the foot:
She herds the sky's cloud-fleeces white
On acres of the star-flowered blue,
And sows the dusk with firefly-light,
And plants it with the dew.
Dim in the East, when stars grow wan,
On housewife knees she kneels,
And blows the hearthfire ash of dawn
Which red her face reveals:
And then down-lying, morning's rose
Stuck in a cloud of tawny locks,
She dozes in the garden close
Among the hollyhocks.
On housewife knees she kneels,
And blows the hearthfire ash of dawn
Which red her face reveals:
And then down-lying, morning's rose
Stuck in a cloud of tawny locks,
She dozes in the garden close
Among the hollyhocks.
Falls fast asleep; then, half aware,
Beside the sleepy stream,
Stoops, and her hot face in its hair
Startles her like a dream:
And pale with fear she turns away,
And to her hounds, the wood-winds, calls,
Who, mad with haste, set all asway,
Where swift her shadow falls.
Beside the sleepy stream,
Stoops, and her hot face in its hair
Startles her like a dream:
And pale with fear she turns away,
And to her hounds, the wood-winds, calls,
Who, mad with haste, set all asway,
Where swift her shadow falls.
And from the hills on lightning feet
Her whippers-in, the thunders, race,
While through a veil of rain and heat
Earth shows a frightened face:
Till deep within the cloud-walled West
Eve lights a witch's windowpane,
Where shapes, in gold and scarlet dressed,
Show where she dreams again.
Her whippers-in, the thunders, race,
While through a veil of rain and heat
Earth shows a frightened face:
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Eve lights a witch's windowpane,
Where shapes, in gold and scarlet dressed,
Show where she dreams again.
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |