Ii

But yesterday:-- Adream, astray, From morning's red to evening's gray, O'er dales and hills Of daffodils And lorn sweet-fluting whippoorwills.

I knew nor cares Nor tears nor prayers-- A mortal god, crowned unawares With sunset--and A scepter-wand Of apple-blossoms in my hand!

The dewy blue Of twilight grew To purple, with a star or two Whose lisping rays Failed in the blaze Of sudden fireflies through the haze.