Page:The college beautiful, and other poems.djvu/51

Rh One fate is told. This money-maddened throng Moves to the twilight of its troubled day, And high souls stand without yon shadowy gates, Thy flame-crowned bards, no echo-voices they, Whose lips shall flood the waiting world with song.

HE maple buds are red, are red, The robin's call is sweet; The blue sky floats above thy head, The violets kiss thy feet. The sun paints emeralds on the spray, And sapphires on the lake A million wings unfold to-day, A million flowers awake. Their starry cups the cowslips lift To catch the golden light, And like a spirit fresh from shrift The cherry-tree is white. The innocent looks up with eyes That know no deeper shade Than falls from wings of butterflies, Too fair to make afraid.