The Black Swans 



well-skilled hands! Their work was 

 long since finished, and he who brought 

 each spring his hyacinths out of the 

 darkness into the light that they might 

 bloom for all of us is not here now! 

 Red and white, and pink and blue, I 

 see them still upon the window sill. 

 And their perfume is not lost. 



The nights are always cool in the 

 midst of so much encircling verdure 

 through the months of May and June, 

 and sometimes as late as July when 

 "dear Zeus" answers the Athenian 

 supplication for rain "down on the 

 plowed fields and the plains," the black 

 swans of the fireplace seem to also 

 hear, and know their services are 

 wanted. The truth is the spring fires 

 burn here with almost unfailing reg- 

 ularity, and Henry has to look well 

 to the wood-pile or we lack proper 

 supplies. A good faithful fellow, 

 Henry! He owns a little place himself 

 not far away, and markets with us 

 such wood as he can spare, and I am 

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