A FLOWER PIECE.
Wandering of late beside a northern shoreThat longed for summer, and the wild beach grass,And dip of oar, and plash of pearly feet,And happy laughter on its lonely sands,I heard a young voice caroling some song,Nor knew I was in elf-land while I heard.It sang, and slowly trembled into rest—Slowly, because the earth was loth to leaveThe high melodious dalliance.The high melodious dalliance.But beforeThe singing fled to silence, eagerlyA rustle and a rush of flying wings,Like leaflets blown before a frosty blastWhen woods stand shivering, caught and bore it off,Lost in the airy clamor of their flight.And, as they went, wild music followed them;The tune the breeze winds in and out the grass,
