Poems (Scudder)/Avignon
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AVIGNON
Sleepy Avignon—it was near the hour
Of nones we crossed the long white bridge that lay
A lily-garland over the green-grey,
Wide-circling river; saw Sire Philip's tower
A lily-stalk denuded of its flower,
Against the dove-hued sky it seemed to sway
And quiver in the pale heat of that day
When all the spirits of the south had power.
We found the convent. By its garden wall
Ripe pears lay on the grass, while clear and bold
From the pear-tree we heard a mavis sing.
A Sister showed us—that was best of all—
King Rene's altar-painting, black and gold
As the queen-tulips of their southern spring.
Of nones we crossed the long white bridge that lay
A lily-garland over the green-grey,
Wide-circling river; saw Sire Philip's tower
A lily-stalk denuded of its flower,
Against the dove-hued sky it seemed to sway
And quiver in the pale heat of that day
When all the spirits of the south had power.
We found the convent. By its garden wall
Ripe pears lay on the grass, while clear and bold
From the pear-tree we heard a mavis sing.
A Sister showed us—that was best of all—
King Rene's altar-painting, black and gold
As the queen-tulips of their southern spring.