I

Crab-apples make the western belt Of hamak one gay holiday of pink; And through palmetto deeps, on winds like felt, The jasmine odors sink.

The wind blows blurs of peach and pearl Around the villa by the river’s side; The guava blossoms and the orange-trees whirl Aroma far and wide.

“He courts her!” sings the mocking-bird; “He courts her, and she misses This word, or that, she might have heard, Had he not crushed a sweeter word On her sweet mouth with kisses. He courts her.”