A Query.
75
A lily, with an eastern look,
Lighted her silver flame,
And purely, like our better thoughts,
White clover blossoms came.
Lighted her silver flame,
And purely, like our better thoughts,
White clover blossoms came.
So drear a place! so sad a rain!
Yet such sweet harvest granted,
When seeds of beauty lie thus hid,
Whose was the hand that planted?
Yet such sweet harvest granted,
When seeds of beauty lie thus hid,
Whose was the hand that planted?
A Trois Temps.
He—
When, lightly leaning on my arm, you glide,
Your feet motived to music, and the spell
Of these harmonious cadences across
Us woven, threadlike, lacing you to me,
My human needs are satisfied, no more
I ask of Time or Circumstance; the warmth
Of Summer at my heart makes every thought
A blossom, with the germ of richer life
Shut fast within it, and a rosy light
Lit by your nearness sets my eager soul
When, lightly leaning on my arm, you glide,
Your feet motived to music, and the spell
Of these harmonious cadences across
Us woven, threadlike, lacing you to me,
My human needs are satisfied, no more
I ask of Time or Circumstance; the warmth
Of Summer at my heart makes every thought
A blossom, with the germ of richer life
Shut fast within it, and a rosy light
Lit by your nearness sets my eager soul
