FOUR SONGS OF FOUR SEASONS.
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II.
SPRING IN TUSCANY.
Rose‑red lilies that bloom on the banner;
Rose‑cheeked gardens that revel in spring;
Rose‑mouthed acacias that laugh as they climb,
Like plumes for a queen's hand fashioned to fan her
With wind more soft than a wild dove's wing,
What do they sing in the spring of their time?
If this be the rose that the world hears singing,
Soft in the soft night, loud in the day,
Songs for the fire‑flies to dance as they hear;
If that be the song of the nightingale, springing
Forth in the form of a rose in May,
What do they say of the way of the year?
