tT THOUGH SILENT I SPEAK tT 



Scarce here and there stirring the single trees, 



For his sharpness he waileth: 



So long a comrade of the bearded corn, 



Now from the stubbles whence the shocks are 



borne, 



O'er dewy lawns he turns to stray, 

 As mindful of the kisses and soft play 

 Wherewith he enamored the light-headed way, 

 Ere he deserted her; 



Lover of fragrance, and too late repents; 

 No more of heavy hyacinth now may drink, 

 No spicy pink, 



Nor summer's rose, nor garnered lavender, 

 But the few lingering scents 

 Of streaked pea, and gillyflower, and stocks 

 Of courtly purple, and aromatic phlox. 



And at all times to hear the drowsy tones 



Of dizzy flies, and humming drones, 



With sudden flap of pigeon wings in the sky, 



Or the wild cry 



Of thirsty rooks, that scour ascare 



The distant blue, to watering as they fare 



With creaking pinions, or on business bent, 



If aught their ancient politics displease, 



[135] 



