Early Summer

In early summer now the world anew Is fashioned by the south wind and the sun And that dark sorcery which no man knows. The greening woods, the orchards in full blow, The bright marsh-marigolds by pasture streams, And hollyhocks along the garden wall— The scene is like a gorgeous tapestry Hung in some old gray castle by the sea, Along whose corridors no footfall sounds, And only fragrant winds with ghostly hands Its hallowed timeless reveries disturb. And so within the summer's pageantry Along austere New England's shadowed ways Immortal calm of loveliness abides.