Page:The Yellow Book - 01.djvu/254

234 peeped from out their dens, Day grew pale and olden; Blackbirds, willow-warblers, wrens, Staunched their voices golden. High, oh high, from the opal sky, Shouting against the dark, "Why, why, why must the day go by?" Fell a passionate lark.

But the cuckoos beat their brazen gongs, Sounding, sounding so; And the nightingales poured in starry songs A galaxy below.

Slowly tolling the vesper bell Ushered the stately night. Down-a-down in a hawthorn dell A boy and a girl and love's delight.