 | The silver bridge and other poems |  |
99
THE MAGNOLIA TREE.
The gradual shades of the twilight fall,
And the scents of flowers, after the heat,
Come freshly over the garden wall—
But one rich odor transcends them all,
Strong and subtle, and sweet, how sweet!
And the scents of flowers, after the heat,
Come freshly over the garden wall—
But one rich odor transcends them all,
Strong and subtle, and sweet, how sweet!
A wonderful fragrance, deep and rare—
The breath of the great magnolia flower,
That after the long day's din and glare,
Comes softly forth, like a silent prayer,
To bless and sweeten the grateful hour.
The breath of the great magnolia flower,
That after the long day's din and glare,
Comes softly forth, like a silent prayer,
To bless and sweeten the grateful hour.
At morn to the sun's enamored rays
It opens its bosom's snowy prime;
Pride of the sultry summer days,
It gives its beauty to all who gaze,
But keeps its soul for the twilight time.
It opens its bosom's snowy prime;
Pride of the sultry summer days,
It gives its beauty to all who gaze,
But keeps its soul for the twilight time.
And when the valleys grow dim with night,
And the skies relent from their noonday heat,
Its long leaves shine in the level light,
And its wide rich flowers of luminous white
Slowly close, with a gush of sweet.
And the skies relent from their noonday heat,
Its long leaves shine in the level light,
100
Slowly close, with a gush of sweet.
I see it, glinting in moonlit air,
With blossoms like white translucent bowls
Of alabaster, all creamy fair,
Filled with a fragrance strange and rare
As a waft from the land of happy souls.
With blossoms like white translucent bowls
Of alabaster, all creamy fair,
Filled with a fragrance strange and rare
As a waft from the land of happy souls.
O gentle airs, which so softly blow,
Wooing their beauty lover-wise,
Tell me, if haply ye may know,
Is this like the lovely trees which grow
By the silver streams of Paradise?
Wooing their beauty lover-wise,
Tell me, if haply ye may know,
Is this like the lovely trees which grow
By the silver streams of Paradise?
For if Nature holds in her gardens wide,
One thing so perfect and wholly fair
That when we cross to the other side,
Where the green fields smile and the clear waves glide,
We may find it, grown immortal, there—
One thing so perfect and wholly fair
That when we cross to the other side,
Where the green fields smile and the clear waves glide,
We may find it, grown immortal, there—
Safe from winter, and storm, and blight,
Green and deathless, it seems to me
It is this fair dweller in warmth and light,
With its glossy leaves and its blossoms white,
The beautiful brave magnolia tree!
Green and deathless, it seems to me
It is this fair dweller in warmth and light,
With its glossy leaves and its blossoms white,
The beautiful brave magnolia tree!
101
Queen of the South and love of the sun!
Happy indeed must the sleeper be
Who finds his rest, when at last 't is won,
And the dew hangs heavy, and day is done,
Under the broad magnolia tree!
Happy indeed must the sleeper be
Who finds his rest, when at last 't is won,
And the dew hangs heavy, and day is done,
Under the broad magnolia tree!
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