The Earth Turns South/The Eternal Courtesies
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
THE ETERNAL COURTESIES
March. . . . The gully is harsh and cold,
Jagged with outpushed rocks and naked tree-trunks,
Pocked with dust-spotted snow, crumbling and treacherous,
A petulant trickle in the stream bed.
Jagged with outpushed rocks and naked tree-trunks,
Pocked with dust-spotted snow, crumbling and treacherous,
A petulant trickle in the stream bed.
April—and over night it wakes!
A rainbow mist buds on the trees,—
Gray and timid green, ashen crimson and gold,—
The emerald flaunt of skunk-cabbage laughs by the stream-bed,
The hooded pitcher-plants, in arrogant red, among them.
Spring beauty and violet hillocks pimple the hillside,
And the golden sunbursts sparkle here and there,
The lily-like adder's tongue, graceful, glowing.
A rainbow mist buds on the trees,—
Gray and timid green, ashen crimson and gold,—
The emerald flaunt of skunk-cabbage laughs by the stream-bed,
The hooded pitcher-plants, in arrogant red, among them.
Spring beauty and violet hillocks pimple the hillside,
And the golden sunbursts sparkle here and there,
The lily-like adder's tongue, graceful, glowing.
O month of the fitful sun and rain,
Thanks for these sweet courtesies!
Thanks for these sweet courtesies!