239
A Hot Wind Day in Spring.
Oh what a cruel and outrageous thing
That in the midst of silken airs like these,
When, to the wooing of a honied breeze
The delicate wistaria blossoms swing
Their drooping tresses o'er the wall and fling
A lavender enchantment, while the trees
Are full of snowy promise, and the bees
Impatient round the buds are clustering,
That such a furious wind as this should rise
And my fair garden into ruin throw
With whirling buffets from the brazen skies;
Oh piteous life! that lives but to bestow
The seeds of death, and bid us realise
All things are vain save Him who made them so.
That in the midst of silken airs like these,
When, to the wooing of a honied breeze
The delicate wistaria blossoms swing
Their drooping tresses o'er the wall and fling
A lavender enchantment, while the trees
Are full of snowy promise, and the bees
Impatient round the buds are clustering,
That such a furious wind as this should rise
And my fair garden into ruin throw
With whirling buffets from the brazen skies;
Oh piteous life! that lives but to bestow
The seeds of death, and bid us realise
All things are vain save Him who made them so.
