 | The Germ, Issue #2: Thoughts Toward Nature in Poetry, Literature, and Art |  |
III. A Fall of Rain.
It was at day-break my thought said :
" The moon makes chequered chestnut-shade
There by the south-side where the vine
Grapples the wall ; and if it shine
This evening thro' the boughs and leaves,
And if the wind with silence weaves
More silence than itself, each stalk
Of flower just swayed by it, we'll walk,
Mary and I, when every fowl
Hides beak and eyes in breast, the owl
Only awake to hoot."—But clover
Is beaten down now, and birds hover,
Peering for shelter round ; no blade
Of grass stands sharp and tall ; men wade
Thro' mire with frequent plashing sting
Of rain upon their faces. Sing,
Then, Mary, to me thro' the dark :
But kiss me first : my hand shall mark
Time, pressing yours the while I hark.
" The moon makes chequered chestnut-shade
There by the south-side where the vine
Grapples the wall ; and if it shine
This evening thro' the boughs and leaves,
And if the wind with silence weaves
More silence than itself, each stalk
Of flower just swayed by it, we'll walk,
Mary and I, when every fowl
Hides beak and eyes in breast, the owl
Only awake to hoot."—But clover
Is beaten down now, and birds hover,
Peering for shelter round ; no blade
Of grass stands sharp and tall ; men wade
Thro' mire with frequent plashing sting
Of rain upon their faces. Sing,
Then, Mary, to me thro' the dark :
But kiss me first : my hand shall mark
Time, pressing yours the while I hark.
| The Germ, Issue #2: Thoughts Toward Nature in Poetry, Literature, and Art | |