A wide-spring meadow in a rosy dawn Bedropt with virgin buds; an orient sky Fleeced with a dappled cloud but half withdrawn; A mad wind blowing by, O'er slopes of rippling grass and glens apart; A brackened path to a wild-woodland place A limpid pool with a fair, laughing face Mirrored within its heart.
II
An ancient garden brimmed with summer sun Upon a still and slumberous afternoon; Old walks and pleasances with shadows spun Where honeyed odors swoon; A velvet turf with blossoms garlanded; A hedge of Mary-lilies white and tall; And, shining out against a lichened wall, A stately-golden head.
III
An autumn hilltop in the sunset hue, Pine boughs uptossed against the crystal west, And, girdled with the twilight dim and blue, A valley peace-possessed; A high-sprung heaven stained with colors rare, A sheen of moonrise on the sea afar, And, bright and soft as any glimmering star, Eyes holy as a prayer.