IN SUMMER NIGHTS.
113
Lately on snowy orange stems they slept,Among a palm-tree's billowy branches crept, And rustled in a red pomegranate bough;Then, rich with heavy spices, shoreward swept, And brought their balms to fan my eager brow.
O midnight winds, that through such splendor fly,—The hollow of a sapphire in the sky, The paved work of a sapphire on the sea,—How soon your warm deliciousness might die Could you but stay and swell one sail for me!
V. NIGHT IN TEXAS.
The lonely interspace of night! The lampless dome awaits the rain;No footfall stirs the unruffled calm Through San Antonio's weird domain.The summer city, breathing balm, Muffled in musky branch and bloom, Sleeps hushed within the haunted gloom.
