By anonymous

93

I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky,
Whose pompous frown was nutriment
To their temerity.

The pillow of this daring head
Is pungent evergreens;
His larder — terse and militant —
Unknown, refreshing things;

His character a tonic,
His future a dispute;
Unfair an immortality
That leaves this neighbor out.

LII
NEW feet within my garden go,
New fingers stir the sod;
A troubadour upon the elm
Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green,
New weary sleep below;
And still the pensive spring returns,
And still the punctual snow!

LIII
PINK, small, and punctual,
Aromatic, low,
Covert in April,
Candid in May,

Dear to the moss,
Known by the knoll,
Next to the robin
In every human soul.

94

Bold little beauty,
Bedecked with thee.
Nature forswears
Antiquity.

(With the first Arbutus.)

LIV
THE murmur of a bee
A witchcraft yieldeth me.
If any ask me why,
‘Twere easier to die
Than tell.

The red upon the hill
Taketh away my will;
If anybody sneer,
Take care, for God is here,
That’s all.

The breaking of the day
Addeth to my degree;
If any ask me how,
Artists, who drew me so,
Must tell!

LV
Megan, you’d like to buy a flower?
But I could never sell.
If you would like to borrow
Until the daffodil