Poems (Henley)/Ballade Made in the Hot Weather

by William Ernest Henley

BALLADE MADE IN THE HOT WEATHER To C. M.

Fountains that frisk and sprinkleThe moss they overspill;Pools that the breezes crinkle;The wheel beside the mill,With its wet, weedy frill;Wind-shadows in the wheat;A water-cart in the street;The fringe of foam that girdsAn islet's ferneries;A green sky's minor thirds—To live, I think of these!

Of ice and glass the tinkle,Pellucid, silver-shrill;Peaches without a wrinkle;Cherries and snow at will,From china bowls that fillThe senses with a sweet Incuriousness of heat;A melon's dripping sherds;Cream-clotted strawberries;Dusk dairies set with curds—To live, I think of these!

Vale-lily and periwinkle;Wet stone-crop on the sill;The look of leaves a-twinkleWith windlets clear and still;The feel of a forest rillThat wimples fresh and fleetAbout one's naked feet;The muzzles of drinking herds;Lush flags and bulrushes;The chirp of rain-bound birds—To live, I think of these!

Envoy

Dark aisles, new packs of cards,Mermaidens' tails, cool swards,Dawn dews and starlit seas,White marbles, whiter words—To live, I think of these!