Poems (Scudder)/The Moon-dial
THE MOON-DIAL
A Moon-Dial I've fashioned Within a grot I knowWhere lilies-of-the-valley And frail-stemmed snowdrops grow.
'Twas carven by enchantment From white chalcedony Upon a silver pillar And, wrought most cunningly
Around its rim the symbols Of Night's twelve hours are set—The first an evening primrose, The next a violet.
The third, a drowsy marigold, The fourth a heartsease dear, A heliotrope, a guelder rose And jasmine next appear.
The Sleep-God's waxen poppy, And ghostly asphodel, A creamy-leaved magnolia, A delicate harebell.
—While for that wistful hour That by the dawn is kissed A morning-glory opens Her eye of amethyst.
And thus, my fair Moon-Dial Till rising of the sun Points with a phantom finger The hours every one.
But she for whom I wrought it Alas, will never stray Beyond her virgin bower From dawn till break of day.