 | Forest Notes |  |
15
THE WOODS AT NOON
Sweet are the woods, where unseen blackbirds flute,
And sun-beams fleck the hollow chill and mute
Where the pool broods;
Where charmèd doves old lullabies still croon,
While silence lies within the arms of noon;
Sweet are the woods.
And sun-beams fleck the hollow chill and mute
Where the pool broods;
Where charmèd doves old lullabies still croon,
While silence lies within the arms of noon;
Sweet are the woods.
The summer's joy enwreathes the brow of day:
The quivering rays about his tresses lay
Their fingers coy;
And each hoar trunk breaks forth in jocund leaves,
For now the Sun is at his loom and weaves
The summer's joy.
The quivering rays about his tresses lay
Their fingers coy;
16
For now the Sun is at his loom and weaves
The summer's joy.
A.
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