Читать книгу Undertones - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 6

Witch-hazel, dogwood, and the maple here;

And there the oak and hickory;

Linn, poplar, and the beech-tree, far and near

As the eased eye can see.

Wild-ginger; wahoo, with its wan balloons;

And brakes of briers of a twilight green;

And fox-grapes plumed with summer; and strung moons

Of mandrake flowers between.

Deep gold-green ferns, and mosses red and gray, —

Mats for what naked myth's white feet? —

And, cool and calm, a cascade far away

With even-falling beat.

Old logs, made sweet with death; rough bits of bark;

And tangled twig and knotted root;

And sunshine splashes and great pools of dark;

And many a wild-bird's flute.

Here let me sit until the Indian, Dusk,

With copper-colored feet, comes down;

Sowing the wildwood with star-fire and musk,

And shadows blue and brown.

Then side by side with some magician dream,

To take the owlet-haunted lane,

Half-roofed with vines; led by a firefly gleam,

That brings me home again.