When summer winds like scented waves bear fluffy flakes
of cruising seeds,
Above the stems of tawny grass and pale white wreaths of flowered weeds,
And berries splash their scarlet stains across the dipping hills of sun,
Their laughter lifts like silver bells and tinkling echoes sweetly run.
Their faces far below the crests of rippling gold and shadowed green,
They hear the dreams of drowsy bees and watch those buccaneers unseen
Cling yellow to the clover masts and trailing ropes of wild blue pea,
And breathe the brine of daisy froth that drifts
between the walls of sea.
Their fingers pluck the glowing fruit, their lips and cheeks
are smeared and dyed;
Their snowy bonnets brush the grass like lifting top-sails on a tide;
And when their little pails brim red and rosy hands will hold no more,
They steer long shadows down the waves that float
their tired feet to shore.