Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/75

 From the gaily feathered herds, And they would be songs again, One rich rain! A peach-petal flutters down, A white moth hath softly flown, And we hardly know sweet note From fair vision as they float. All the valley sings! An angel kindles when he dips The fig's candelabra tips To chrysolite, while many a vine Amorously will incline O'er vistas of a golden trellis, Where a cool and shadowy well is, All overgrown with mosses wet And maiden hair and violet. O'er many a shrine Roses twine! Light green fountains of the palm Fall in a blue crystal calm; Delicate flushing lady tulips Close their lanceolate dim dew-lips, Their soft satiny repose By a light hand flecked with rose; Golden jonquils, white narcissus, Whisper softly, "Come, and kiss us Part us not from the sweet brood Of our companions in the wood!"