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The pretty people in the woods |
Receive me cordially. |
The brooks laugh louder when I come, |
The breezes madder play. |
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists? |
Wherefore, O summer's day? |
VIII. |
SUMMER'S ARMIES. |
Some rainbow coming from the fair! |
Some vision of the world Cashmere |
I confidently see! |
Or else a peacock's purple train, |
Feather by feather, on the plain |
Fritters itself away! |
The dreamy butterflies bestir, |
Lethargic pools resume the whir |
Of last year's sundered tune. |
From some old fortress on the sun |
Baronial bees march, one by one, |
In murmuring platoon! |
The robins stand as thick to-day |
As flakes of snow stood yesterday, |
On fence and roof and twig. |
The orchis binds her feather on |
For her old lover, Don the Sun, |
Revisiting the bog! |
Without commander, countless, still, |
The regiment of wood and hill |
In bright detachment stand. |
Behold! Whose multitudes are these? |
The children of whose turbaned seas, |
Or what Circassian land? |
IX. |
THE GRASS. |
The grass so little has to do, -- |
A sphere of simple green, |
With only butterflies to brood, |
And bees to entertain, |
And stir all day to pretty tunes |
The breezes fetch along, |
And hold the sunshine in its lap |
And bow to everything; |
And thread the dews all night, like pearls, |
And make itself so fine, -- |
A duchess were too common |
For such a noticing. |
And even when it dies, to pass |
In odors so divine, |
As lowly spices gone to sleep, |
Or amulets of pine. |
And then to dwell in sovereign barns, |
And dream the days away, -- |
The grass so little has to do, |
I wish I were the hay! |
X. |
A little road not made of man, |
Enabled of the eye, |
Accessible to thill of bee, |
Or cart of butterfly. |
If town it have, beyond itself, |
'T is that I cannot say; |
I only sigh, -- no vehicle |
Bears me along that way. |
XI. |
SUMMER SHOWER. |
A drop fell on the apple tree, |
Another on the roof; |
A half a dozen kissed the eaves, |
And made the gables laugh. |
A few went out to help the brook, |
That went to help the sea. |
Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, |
What necklaces could be! |
The dust replaced in hoisted roads, |
The birds jocoser sung; |
The sunshine threw his hat away, |
The orchards spangles hung. |