WILD CLEMATIS. 



Give the richness that they know, 

 Then the wild clematis comes, 

 With her wealth of tangled blooms, 



Reaching up and drooping low. 



And her fresh leaves only shade 



That which is within her bower, 

 Like a curtain, lightly made, 



Half to hide her virgin flower; 

 None too close to let the wind 

 Find a place to breathe between, 

 Where the wild bee cannot miss 

 All the sweetness that there is, 

 Underneath her tent of green. 



And the sunlight flickers in, 



So to touch her maiden breast; 

 And between her twists of vine 



Sings the woodbird to his nest; 

 And the air is wondrous sweet, 

 And the twilight lingers long, 

 And the young birds learn to fly 

 In among her greenery, 



And she hears their earliest song. 



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