Meadow and Mountain 



The lone schoolhouses along the lane 



That leads to the rural retreat, 

 Will blossom with human flowers again 



At the coming of Autumn's feet; 

 Till then, like a sentry on guard, I stand 



By the door and window sill, 

 To await the return of the youthful band, 



My beauty to plunder and kill. 



Then I silently sleep in my seed-pod tomb, 



Till the frolicking throng tread me low, 

 When I gather the stuff for my beautiful bloom, 



While the winter winds murmur and blow; 

 My beauty was plundered to crown me with more, 



But the ruin seemed out of all reason, 

 Till the new life woke in my slumbering spore 



And sceptered me Queen of the season. 

 108 



