Columbines

Late were we sleeping Deep in the mold, Clasping and keeping Yesterday's gold— Hoardings of sunshine, Crimson and gold; Dreaming of light till our dream became Aureate bells and beakers of flame,— Splashed with the splendor of wine of flame. Raindrop awoke us; Zephyr bespoke us; Chick-a-dee called us, Bobolink called us,— Then we came.