University of Virginia Library

AFTER.

A Crocus.
Welcome, dear sisters, to our fairy home!
They call this Garden; and the time is Spring.
Like you I have felt the pain of flowering;
But, oh, the wonder and the deep delight
It was to stand here, in the broad sunlight,
And feel the Wind flow round me cool and kind;
To hear the singing of the leaves the Wind
Goes hurrying through; to see the mighty Trees,
Where every day the blossoming buds increase.
At evening, when the shining Sun goes in,
The gentler lights look down, and dews begin,
And all is still, beneath the quiet sky,
Save sometimes for the Wind's low lullaby.

First Tree.
Poor little flowers!

Second Tree.
What would you prate of, now?

First Tree.
They have not heard; I will keep still. Speak low.

First Violet.
The Trees bend to each other lovingly.

Crocus.
Daily they whisper of fair things to be.
Great talk they make about the coming Rose,
The very fairest flower, they say, that blows!
Such scent she hath; her leaves are red, they say,
And fold her round in some divine, sweet way.

First Violet.
Would she were come, that for ourselves we might
Have pleasure in this wonder of delight!

Crocus.
Here comes the laughing, dancing, hurrying rain;
How all the Trees laugh at the Wind's light strain!

First Violet.
We are so near the earth, the Wind goes by
And hurts us not; but if we stood up high,
Like Trees, then should we soon be blown away.

Second Violet.
Nay; were it so, we should be strong as they.

Crocus.
I often think how nice to be a Tree;
Why, sometimes in their boughs the Stars I see.

First Violet.
Have you seen that?

Crocus.
I have, and so shall you
But hush! I feel the coming of the dew.