OXFORD: THE UPPER RIVER 205 



It makes the silver poplars gleam, 



And fans the thistles into play, 

 And whitens all the stiller stream, 



And passing sighs itself away. 



But it has left the water glad, 



And made the big trout plunge and hurl 

 His length into the foam, and add 



A breaking circle to the swirl. 



And now down all the roads of dawn 

 Comes in the tide of gold, the same 



That lights the diamond on the lawn, 

 Or rages till the prairies flame. 



I see it draw the wreathbd woof 



Of veiling mist across the plain ; 

 I see it glinting on the roof 



And burning on the burnished vane ; 



Lighting the sedge-bird's secret place. 

 Lifting the windflower's tired head. 



Blushing upon the briar's face 

 And laughing in the iris-bed ; 



