Poems (Scudder)/The Tuileries in March

by Antoinette Quinby Scudder

THE TUILERIES IN MARCH

Around the fountain's rim the stone gods wear
 A milder aspect. Even Father Nile
 Has smoothed his rugged features to a smile
The sturdy godlings clutching at his hair
And brawny shoulder. See, how quickly there
 Across the steel-tinged water darts a boat
 By two bare-legged youngsters set afloat.
Its pointed yellow sail in this light air
Seems a belated autumn leaf. Behind,
Yon granite nymph that races with the wind
And never tires, has checked for once her stride.
 An unguessed softness in her eager face,
 She stoops to gather with a timid grace
The white and golden pansies at her side.

The folk who throng the paths are plainly dressed
 In sober colors, but the pigeons stalk
 So proudly up and down each sheltered walk
And each displays on swelling throat and breast
The season's latest shades for gown and vest
 Only the lindens—for sun-hours are brief,
 Reveal a glimmer of unfolding leaf—
The other trees have spread against the west
Their fan-shaped webs of black point-lace that veil
With exquisite design a sky of pale
Geranium and silver, daintily
 Brocaded. Yet, I watch where far away
 The obelisk from Egypt lifts its grey
Lean finger pointed skyward warningly.