The Garden of Dreams. Madison Julius Cawein

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СКАЧАТЬ make glad the forest-trees?

       A dogwood blossom at her throat,

       My May among the anemones.

      As sweetheart breezes kiss the blooms,

       And dewdrops drink the moonlight's gleams,

       My soul shall kiss her lips' perfumes,

       And drink the magic of her dreams.

COMRADERY

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      With eyes hand-arched he looks into

       The morning's face, then turns away

       With schoolboy feet, all wet with dew,

       Out for a holiday.

      The hill brook sings, incessant stars,

       Foam-fashioned, on its restless breast;

       And where he wades its water-bars

       Its song is happiest.

      A comrade of the chinquapin,

       He looks into its knotted eyes

       And sees its heart; and, deep within,

       Its soul that makes him wise.

      The wood-thrush knows and follows him,

       Who whistles up the birds and bees;

       And 'round him all the perfumes swim

       Of woodland loam and trees.

      Where'er he pass the supple springs'

       Foam-people sing the flowers awake;

       And sappy lips of bark-clad things

       Laugh ripe each fruited brake.

      His touch is a companionship;

       His word, an old authority:

       He comes, a lyric at his lip,

       Unstudied Poesy.

OCCULT

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      Unto the soul's companionship

       Of things that only seem to be,

       Earth points with magic fingertip

       And bids thee see

       How Fancy keeps thee company.

      For oft at dawn hast not beheld

       A spirit of prismatic hue

       Blow wide the buds, which night has swelled?

       And stain them through

       With heav'n's ethereal gold and blue?

      While at her side another went

       With gleams of enigmatic white?

       A spirit who distributes scent,

       To vale and height,

       In footsteps of the rosy light?

      And oft at dusk hast thou not seen

       The star-fays bring their caravans

       Of dew, and glitter all the green,

       Night's shadow tans,

       From many starbeam sprinkling-cans?

      Nor watched with these the elfins go

       Who tune faint instruments? whose sound

       Is that moon-music insects blow

       When all the ground

       Sleeps, and the night is hushed around?

WOOD-WORDS

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I.

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