Ii

Beside the wall the roses blow Long summer noons the winds forsake; Beside the wall the poppies glow So full of fire their hearts do ache; The dipping butterflies come slow, Half dreaming, half awake.

Sweet noontide, rest, A slave-girl weary With her babe at her breast; Sweet noontide, rest, The day grows dreary As soft limbs that are tired and eyes that are teary.