| Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891. | | | | July | | By Louise Brooks |
| | | SWEET flower-kissing breeze, one word I pray, | |
| The same you told the grasses on the lea, | |
| That, bending, twisting, tossed with frolic glee, | |
| Each tells to each through the long joyous day. | |
| Ye braided waters of the brook alway, | 5 |
| That green detaining grasses vainly woo, | |
| What alchemy now turns you gold, now blue? | |
| What do your gentle murmurings betray? | |
| Ye white and vap’rous bubbles of the air, | |
| Circling the brow of day, a pearléd chain, | 10 |
| Your mystery I long to learn,—may dare | |
| To weave therewith a rhyme. The sacred pain | |
| Has touched my heart, leaving it soft and bare, | |
| Quivering with thoughts it cannot give again. | | | | |
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