Part 11 (1/2)

In the lily's chalice, what rune, what spell, In the rose's palace, what do they tell

(When the door you bob in, airily) That they hush from the robin, hide from the bee?--

Fearing the crew of chatter and song, And tell to you of the chantless tongue?

Chantless! Ah, yes. Is that the sting Masked in gay dress and whirring wing?

Faith! But a wing of such airy stuff!

What need to sing? Here's music enough.

A-whirr, and over tree-top, and through!

Hi! little rover, fair travel to you.

Sweet, absurd, excited wag-- Lilliput-bird in Brobdingnag!

HERMANN HAGEDORN

SPRING SONG

Softly at dawn a whisper stole Down from the Green House on the Hill, Enchanting many a ghostly bole And wood song with the ancient thrill.

Gossiping on the countryside, Spring and the wandering breezes say G.o.d has thrown heaven open wide And let the thrushes out to-day.

WILLIAM GRIFFITH

NIGHTINGALES

At sunset my brown nightingales Hidden and hushed all day, Ring vespers, while the color pales And fades to twilight gray: The little mellow bells they ring, The little flutes they play, Are soft as though for practising The things they want to say.

It's when the dark has floated down To hide and guard and fold, I know their throats that look so brown, Are really made of gold.

No music I have ever heard Can call as sweet as they!

I wonder if it _is_ a bird That sings within the hidden tree, Or some shy angel calling me To follow far away?

GRACE HAZARD CONKLING

THE GOLDFINCH

Down from the sky on a sudden he drops Into the mullein and juniper tops, Flushed from his bath in the midsummer s.h.i.+ne Flooding the meadowland, drunk with the wine Spilled from the urns of the blue, like a bold Sky-buccaneer in his sable and gold.

Lightly he sways on the pendulous stem, Vividly restless, a fluttering gem, Then with a flash of bewildering wings Dazzles away up and down, and he sings Clear as a bell at each dip as he flies Bounding along on the wave of the skies.

Sunlight and laughter, a winged desire, Motion and melody married to fire, Lighter than thistle-tuft borne on the wind, Frailer than violets, how shall we find Words that will match him, discover a name Meet for this marvel, this lyrical flame?

How shall we fas.h.i.+on a rhythm to wing with him, Find us a wonderful music to sing with him Fine as his rapture is, free as the rollicking Song that the harlequin drops in his frolicking Dance through the summer sky, singing so merrily High in the burning blue, winging so airily?

ODELL SHEPARD