BOTTLE BRUSH
The parrots found them at the dawning,
And whistled over their honey-cones,
And the amber harrows of green-framed blossom
By the grassy cliff, and the tide-bright stones;
And the wind came up from the blue March sea,
And chased a sweetness from tree to tree.
And whistled over their honey-cones,
And the amber harrows of green-framed blossom
By the grassy cliff, and the tide-bright stones;
And the wind came up from the blue March sea,
And chased a sweetness from tree to tree.
Shadows sway on the wiry grasses;
A red road winds among the bush;
Only a wild-bird's pipe to waken
A faun asleep in the noontime hush—
Was it wrong we should crave one peep,
Till Love awoke in a world asleep?
A red road winds among the bush;
Only a wild-bird's pipe to waken
A faun asleep in the noontime hush—
Was it wrong we should crave one peep,
Till Love awoke in a world asleep?
For the far-green aisles are forever calling,
And the wave has stirred to a smile of foam,
And hearts grown sick of the ways of cities
Are footsore wanderers, nearing home.
Here a hollow cries for the water's loss,
But the fallen trunk makes a bridge across.
And the wave has stirred to a smile of foam,
And hearts grown sick of the ways of cities
Are footsore wanderers, nearing home.
Here a hollow cries for the water's loss,
But the fallen trunk makes a bridge across.
How soft the sand in the empty runnel!
It whispers "rest" where the sunbeams stray.
We can wake and watch on a cold to-morrow,
But the gods have placed in our hands to-day.
It whispers "rest" where the sunbeams stray.
We can wake and watch on a cold to-morrow,
But the gods have placed in our hands to-day.
