Читать книгу The Poems of Madison Cawein. Volume 2 (of 5) - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 24

Gray skies and a foggy rain

Dripping from streaming eaves;

Over and over again

Dull drop of the trickling leaves:

And the woodward-winding lane,

And the hill with its shocks of sheaves

One scarce perceives.

Shall I go in such wet weather

By the lane or over the hill?—

Where the blossoming milkweed’s feather

The diamonded rain-drops fill;

Where, draggled and drenched together,

The ox-eyes rank the rill

By the old corn-mill.

The creek by now is swollen,

And its foaming cascades sound;

And the lilies, smeared with pollen,

In the dam look dull and drowned.

’Tis the path I oft have stolen

To the bridge; that rambles round

With willows bound.

Through a bottom wild with berry,

And packed with the ironweeds

And elder,—washed and very

Fragrant,—the fenced path leads

Past oak and wilding cherry,

Where the tall wild-lettuce seeds,

To a place of reeds.

The sun through the sad sky bleaches—

Is that a thrush that calls?—

A bird in the rain beseeches:

And see! on the balsam’s balls,

And leaves of the water-beeches—

One blister of wart-like galls—

No rain-drop falls.

My shawl instead of a bonnet!…

’Though the woods be dripping yet,

Through the wet to the rock I’ll run it!—

How sweet to meet in the wet!—

Our rock with the vine upon it,—

Each flower a fiery jet,—

Where oft we ’ve met.