A LONG the lawns the tulip lamps are lit, 
-*■ Amber, and amaranth, and ivory, 
Porphyry, silver, and chalcedony— 
Filled with the sunlight and the joy of it. 
The tulip lamps are lit—the Spring’s own gold 
Glows burning bright in each illumined cup, 
Wrought in those secret mines of dusky mould 
Where Winter’s hidden hoard was garnered up. 
The flame will fade, the goblets break and fall, 
Strewing the dim earth with their beauty’s wrack; 
All will be spent and past their festival 
Ere the first vagrant swallow shall come back. 
