Vii

The dewberries are blooming now; The days are long, the nights are short; Each haw-tree and each dogwood bough Is bleached with bloom, and seems a part,-- Reflected palely on her brow,-- Of dreams that haunt the Year’s young heart.

But this will pass; and presently The world forget the spring that was; And underneath the wild-plum tree, ’Mid hornet hum and wild-bee’s buzz, Summer, in dreamy reverie, Will sit all warm and amorous.

Summer, with drowsy eyes and hair, Who walks the orchard aisles between; Whose hot touch tans the freckled pear, And crimsons peach and nectarine; And, in the vineyard everywhere, Bubbles with blue the grape’s ripe green.

Where now the briers blossoming are, Soon will the berries darkly glow; Then Summer pass: and star on star, Where now the grass is strewn below With petals, soon, both near and far, Will lie the obliterating snow.