MAKE "THE CITY BEAUTIFUL" 11 



"The Iris was yellow, the moon was pale, 



In the air it was stiller than snow, 

 There was even light through the vale, 

 But a vaporous sheet 

 Clung about my feet, 

 And I dared no further go. 

 I had passed the pond, I could see the stile, 

 The path was plain for more than a mile, 

 Yet I dared no further go. 



The Iris-beds shone in my face, when, whist! 



A noiseless music began to blow, 

 A music that moved through the mist, 

 That had not begun, 

 Would never be done 

 With that music I must go: 



And I found myself in the heart of the tune, 

 Wheeling around to the whirr of the moon, 

 With the sheets of mist below. 



In my hands how warm were the little hands, 



Strange little hands that I did not know; 

 I did not think of the elvan bands, 

 Nor of anything 

 In that whirling ring 

 Here a cock began to crow! 



The little hands dropped that had clung so tight, 

 And I saw again by the pale dawnlight 

 The Iris-heads in a row." 



Michael Field: Iris. 



"O'er water-daisies and wild waifs of Spring, 



There where the Iris rears its gold-crowned sheaf 

 With flowering rush and sceptred arrow-leaf, 

 So have I marked Queen Dian, in bright ring 

 Of cloud above and wave below, take wing 



And chase night's gloom, as thou the spirit's grief." 

 Rossetti: Gracious Moonlight. 



"I have sown upon the fields 



Eyebright and Pimpernel, 



* * * * 



King-cup and Fleur-de-lys 

 Upon the marsh to meet 

 With Comfrey, Watermint, 

 Loose-strife and Meadowsweet." 



Bridges: The Idle Flowers. 



