Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/75

From the gaily feathered herds,
And they would be songs again,
One rich rain!
A peach-petal flutters down,
A white moth hath softly flown,
And we hardly know sweet note
From fair vision as they float.
All the valley sings!
An angel kindles when he dips
The fig's candelabra tips
To chrysolite, while many a vine
Amorously will incline
O'er vistas of a golden trellis,
Where a cool and shadowy well is,
All overgrown with mosses wet
And maiden hair and violet.
O'er many a shrine
Roses twine!
Light green fountains of the palm
Fall in a blue crystal calm;
Delicate flushing lady tulips
Close their lanceolate dim dew-lips,
Their soft satiny repose
By a light hand flecked with rose;
Golden jonquils, white narcissus,
Whisper softly, "Come, and kiss us
Part us not from the sweet brood
Of our companions in the wood!"