In My Pergola

Beyond the blue-robed, sleeping lake, I watch the flush of morning rise, While birds and flowers once more wake, To share with me my paradise.

Within this waveless bay of rest The Alpine winds contend no more, But skim, like gulls, its dimpled breast, And sink to silence on its shore.

The breath of dawn descends the hills, And round me, as I greet the day, I hear the lilt of laughing rills And songs of fountains at their play.

Tall, whispering trees their shadows fling Athwart the trellised path I tread, And incense-breathing roses swing Their pendent censers o'er my head.

What Moorish ceiling e'er excelled This arbor, roofed with cups of gold? What Eastern casket ever held The perfume which their leaves unfold?

Fair chalices of bloom, swing low, And touch my lips with odors sweet! Enfold me in your ardent glow, While petals flutter to my feet!

Let, for to-day, the dream remain That life is rose-hued, like this aisle,-- A fragrant pathway, free from pain, With every sun-kissed flower a smile!