PUSSY WILLOW AND CATKINS. 27 



Like soft-winged things coming forth from their shrouds, 

 The bees have forsaken the maple's red flowers 



And gone to the willows, whose luminous clouds 

 Drop incense and gold in impalpable showers. 



The bee-peopled odorous boughs overhead, 



With fragrance and murmur the senses delighting ; 



The lake-side, gold-laced with the pollen they shed 

 At the touch of a breeze or a small bird alighting ; 



The myriad tremulous pendants that stream 



From the hair of the birches — O group of slim 

 graces. 



That see in the water your silver limbs gleam, 

 And lean undismayed over infinite spaces ! — 



The bold dandelion embossing the grass ; 



On upland and terrace the fruit gardens blooming ; 

 The wavering, winged, happy creatures that pass — 



Pale butterflies flitting, and bumble-bees booming ; 



The crowing of cocks and the bellow of kine ; 



Light, color, and all the delirious lyrical 

 Bursts of bird-voices ; life filled with new wine, — 



Every motion and change in this beautiful miracle, 



