Noëra

Noëra, when sad fall Has grayed the fallow, Leaf-cramped the wood-brook’s brawl In pool and shallow; When, by the wood-side, tall Stands sere the mallow:

Noëra, when gray gold And golden gray The crackling hollows fold By every way, Shall I thy face behold, Dear bit of May?

When webs are cribs for dew, And gossamers Streak past you, silver-blue; When silence stirs One leaf, of rusty hue, Among the burrs:

Noëra, thro’ the wood, Or thro’ the grain, Come, with the hoiden mood Of wind and rain Fresh in thy sunny blood, Sweetheart, again!

Noëra, when the corn, Heaped on the fields, The asters’ stars adorn-- And purple shields Of ironweeds lie torn Among the wealds:

Noëra, haply then, Thou being with me, Each ruined greenwood glen Will bud and be Spring’s with the spring again, The spring in thee.

Thou of the breezy tread, Feet of the breeze: Thou of the sunbeam head, Heart like a bee’s: Face like a woodland-bred Anemone’s.

Thou to October bring An April part! Come, make the wild-birds sing, The blossoms start! Noëra, with the spring Wild in thy heart!

Come with our golden year; Come as its gold: With the same laughing, clear, Loved voice of old: In thy cool hair one dear Wild marigold.