Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/209

190 Still the flower and tree 'neath the son Unfolded their buds to bloom; And the fly, clad in sombre grey, Danced over the faint perfume.

And the sun coming forth from a cloud Shone fair on a smiling land. I said: Hush, questioning heart; 'Tis you cannot understand.