Her flute's clear solo greets the maiden day--
Above the waking of melodious May,
Its notes are like a trellised flight of flowers.
The chirping birds whose orchestra of bills
Accompanies rain--the tea-rose best distills--
And then the smell of earth between the showers!
From garden bright, in drops of crystal gown'd,
I hear the breezes make a leafy sound
Through vibrant buzz of flies that seek the shade--
... And wonder whether--as sweet noon reposes--
The roses make the air, the air the roses
Within the house kept cooler than a glade.
Against the wall, upon the sunny side,
Their fruitful branches fixed and crucified,
The pear-trees stretch out arms in martyred line--
While we that surfeit, nap, as calyx'd bees,
Who murmurs, still pursuing imageries
... «Like Jewish candelabras». (relight mine!)
Rising as to welcome a newcomer
The flute pipes to the first eve of the summer
--Nocturnal nature moves to minor bars--
A golden crescent in a druid's tree
Reminds her that the forest has a key--
And out she goes to serenade the stars!