WHITE Purple mountains-oh, purple and blue- And against them, nearer and brighter, With tasseled boughs uplifted, And flowery young leaves. And before me, trailing down the slope, The dogwood, like a snow-nymph, Leads the filmy-robed Spring. THE OAK The old oak lets fall its crimson leaves Tiny fuzzy leaves, Drooping, shivering, Tender as a babe new-born. The hard old oak, Brother of the wind, Friend of storms, Shakes out young leaves like a thin pale veil Of rose and mauve, That shades the sun for him, And fluttering, flickering, Softens the breeze. Is it a new, new world, Should droop from the brown old oak? AZALEAS Spread them wide, Lovely ladies, Spread your skirts wide. Pink and white Oh, fair and chaste! Flutter down the mountain, Rest in the wood. Gold and red fire Oh, eager and warm! Gather in the hollows, Shine in the shade. THE MOCKING-BIRD I hear a thousand thousand tremors Of clear water Falling lacily in the sun. I hear one, two-seven shivers Of deep bells Ringing under the sea. I hear a chiming of soldiers in bright armor Riding up a hill— Oh, far away, far away! I hear sweet words, silver words, Musically clashing down From the tune-locked lips of lovers Like the sweep of bright spoil over the blue When the storm has gone, They move over and under Capturing the new-blown Summer As she walks in the wood. My porch stands high, MY PORCH And between the floor and the roof the apple-tree Shoots in its green branches. The blossoms are gone, But silver sunlight dapples the leaves, And little apples are rounding in the shadows. Below me in the garden Young shoots make green lines in the tawny soil. Little peach-trees border it, With three dark pines behind them. And beyond, blue and green through the new-washed air, So sweet, so still— Hardly a breeze is blowing At peace is the round, green world At peace. "Twelve miles?" THE MOUNTAINEER'S WIFE "Twelve miles-in the cool o' th' mornin'." "But look-such a tiny baby!" "He's five weeks a'ready"-she snuggled him close in her arms "But I couldn' quite leave him with the othah children." "Others?"-she looked so young, Her milky brow and blue gentian eyes. "O' cou'se-six-an' Co'nelia an' Jim ah lots o' help: Las' wintah, when they couldn' go to school-” "Couldn't go to school?" "Coz 'twas too fah an' they had no shoes- See, they made these nice little baskets- |