XXVII

Whereof--white, purple, azure, golden, red,

Confused like hues of sunset--the wild flowers

Wove a rich dais; through crosslights overhead

Glanced the clear sunshine, fell the fruitful showers,

And here the shyest bird would fold her wings;

Here fled the fairest and the gentlest things.

Poems of Henry Timrod; with Memoir · 第 67 / 190 题