Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/76

 Earth's fair features, every one Instinct with spirit of the sun, Radiate well-married hues, Blent with air and ocean blues. Verily I seem to stand In a realm of fairyland, Or I take my dazzled station In some intense illumination Of a missal mediæval Yonder on the hill's upheaval, Where we hear the convent chime, Wrought by monk of olden time, Whom the cloister heard intone, And many a sun-bleached river stone, Or the darkling cypress cone. Cool grey clouds of olive fill All the foldings of the hill, While fair dawn-empetalled peaches Gleam athwart the bloomy reaches Of quiet harebell-mantled mountain Gemmed with rivulet or fountain, Shadowy evening robes, whose hem Shines with many a water gem: While rich oranges all golden, In a darkling foliage holden, Are a foil to the pale gleaming Of oval lemon, and the beaming Ampler cherry trees, one snow