Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/33



HEN friendly summer calls again, Calls again Her little fifers to these hills, We'll go—we two—to that arched fane Of leafage where they prime their bills Before they start to flood the plain With quavers, minims, shakes, and trills. "—We'll go," I sing; but who shall say What may not chance before that day!

And we shall see the waters spring, Waters spring From chinks the scrubby copses crown; And we shall trace their oncreeping To where the cascade tumbles down And sends the bobbing growths aswing, And ferns not quite but almost drown. "—We shall," I say; but who may sing Of what another moon will bring!