Among The Vines

The clustering vines spring up through the clear air; They grow twice over; once, high up and green, And once deep down in the blue lake, between The purple mountains, — both alike so fair, One scarce can tell the sunshine from the glare. Here, the light ripples through a leafy screen, There, it flows on all golden and serene, In both the dark-eyed children stand and stare; While up and down their weary parents pace Those stony ways, with long, deep baskets slung Over their shoulders; yet with easy grace They bear their burdens, whether old or young; For here they play at work — in many a place They work at . play — for those, no song be sung.