O graceful fronds of maiden-hair,Most delicate of ferns,You make the world more fair;You greet me from the window sillEach morning when the sun's ray burnsThe mist of sleep away, untilYou've grown a picture to my eyes,Like forest-thoughts against blue skies;Like forest-thoughts—my dream returns—Far from the rumbling city street,For cool green things my spirit yearns,—Because of you,—to my tired feetThe dusty pavement of the streetIs a green path with wild-flowers sweet;You make the world more fair,Most delicate of ferns,O graceful fronds of maiden-hair.
[31]
