Xviii

Mid-summer blooms within our quiet garden-ways; A golden peacock down the dusky alley strays; Gay flower petals strew --Pearl, emerald and blue-- The curving slopes of fragrant summer grass; The pools are clear as glass Between the white cups of the lily-flowers; The currants are like jewelled fairy-bowers; A dazzling insect worries the heart of a rose, Where a delicate fern a filmy shadow throws, And airy as bubbles the thousands of bees Over the young grape-clusters swarm as they please.

The air is pearly, iridescent, pure; These profound and radiant noons mature, Unfolding even as odorous roses of clear light; Familiar roads to distances invite Like slow and graceful gestures, one by one Bound for the pearly-hued horizon and the sun.

Surely the summer clothes, with all her arts, No other garden with such grace and power; And 'tis the poignant joy close-folded in our hearts That cries its life aloud from every flaming flower.