Poems (Forrest)/Bottle brush
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.
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?
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.
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. Will the breath of honey-blooms keep us wiseWith our eyes so close to each other's eyes?
Bottle brush in a little clearing, Where the parting leaves show a sapphire sea—The gods have used it to paint a picture, Dipped in sun, for the days to be.We were fools had we let that moment slip:The honey lasts on a tasted lip!