Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/404

They hop on the porch where the baby sits,
They come and go as a shadow flits,
Now here, now there, while in and out
They crowd and jostle each other about;
Till one, grown bolder than all the rest—
A snow-white dove with an arching breast—
  Softly lights on her outstretched hand
  Under the vines at Mendon.

  "Coo! coo! coo!" says Arné,
  Calling the doves at Mendon!

With a rush and a whir of shining wings,
They hear and obey—the dainty things!
Dun and purple and snowy white,
Clouded gray, like the soft twilight,
Straight as an arrow shot from a bow,
Wheeling and circling high and low,
  Down they fly from the slanting roof
  Of the old red barn at Mendon.

  "Coo! coo! coo!" says Arné,
  Calling the doves at Mendon!

Baby Alice with wide blue eyes
Watches them ever with new surprise,
While she and Wag on the mat together
Joy in the soft midsummer weather.
Hither and thither she sees them fly,
Gray and white on the azure sky,
  Light and shadow against the green
  Of the maple grove at Mendon.

  "Coo! coo! coo!" says Arné,
  Calling the doves at Mendon!