Poems (Howard)/A June Idyl
A June Idyl.
I dream that I dwell in a beautiful bower,
Transported intact from some tropical land;
Enriched with as rare and bewildering a dower
Of beauty and fragrance as one could demand.
Transported intact from some tropical land;
Enriched with as rare and bewildering a dower
Of beauty and fragrance as one could demand.
The fairest of flowers are freely perfuming
The air that surrounds me wherever I tread;
For under my window syringas are blooming,
And apple-tree blossoms are thick overhead.
The air that surrounds me wherever I tread;
For under my window syringas are blooming,
And apple-tree blossoms are thick overhead.
The lilac's luxuriant cones are beginning
To open their petals to sunshine and dew,
And orchards like spicy amomum are winning
Their merited share of encomium too.
To open their petals to sunshine and dew,
And orchards like spicy amomum are winning
Their merited share of encomium too.
Delicious and delicate rose exhalations
Commingle with violets dotting the lawn,
Where from the corollas of lovely carnations
The humming-bird sips till their sweetness is gone.
Commingle with violets dotting the lawn,
Where from the corollas of lovely carnations
The humming-bird sips till their sweetness is gone.
Rich blooms hyacinthine, but tardily started,
Arc now of as exquisite odor possessed
As memories dear of companions departed,
Or scent-laden breezes from Araby blest.
Arc now of as exquisite odor possessed
As memories dear of companions departed,
Or scent-laden breezes from Araby blest.
To swing in a hammock 'mid such efflorescence
Is quite the perfection of indolent bliss—
I wonder if ever in sweet adolescence
My visions of Eden were fairer than this!
Is quite the perfection of indolent bliss—
I wonder if ever in sweet adolescence
My visions of Eden were fairer than this!
Just over the way a fresh silver soprano
A soul full of melody seems to repeat,
Where Katie is seated beside the piano
Rehearsing "The vale where the bright waters meet."
A soul full of melody seems to repeat,
Where Katie is seated beside the piano
Rehearsing "The vale where the bright waters meet."
It carries me back to that story by Shelley—
Oh, no!—I forget—'twas delightful, Tom Moore
Who wrote about Lalla, the princess of Delhi,
And—only for love—the long journey she bore
Oh, no!—I forget—'twas delightful, Tom Moore
Who wrote about Lalla, the princess of Delhi,
And—only for love—the long journey she bore
How well I remember, when ardent and glowing
With notions romantic, the pleasure I took
In reading the poem, and wished I were going
To be a Sultana—like fair Lalla Rookh!
With notions romantic, the pleasure I took
In reading the poem, and wished I were going
To be a Sultana—like fair Lalla Rookh!
O strong the illusion, and binding the glamour
A poet can give!—it seems perfectly clear.
Though thought is maturer and fancy is calmer,
That I am indeed in the vale of Cashmere!
A poet can give!—it seems perfectly clear.
Though thought is maturer and fancy is calmer,
That I am indeed in the vale of Cashmere!