Beech Blooms.

The wild oxalis     Among the valleys     Lifts up its chalice     Of pink and pearl;     And, balsam-breathing,     From out their sheathing,     The myriad wreathing     Green leaves uncurl.     The whole world brightens     With spring, that lightens     The foot that frightens     The building thrush;     Where water tosses     On ferns and mosses     The squirrel crosses     The beechen hush.     And vision on vision,     Like ships elysian     On some white mission,     Sails cloud on cloud;     With scents of clover     The winds brim over,     And in the cover     The stream is loud.     'Twixt bloom that blanches     The orchard branches     Old farms and ranches     Gleam in the gloam;     'Mid blossoms blowing,     Through fields for sowing,     The cows come lowing,     The cows come home.     Where ways are narrow,     A vesper-sparrow     Flits like an arrow     Of living rhyme;     The red sun poises,     And farmyard noises     Mix with glad voices     Of milking-time.     When dusk disposes     Of all its roses,     And darkness closes,     And work is done,     A moon's white feather     In starry weather     And two together     Whose hearts are one.