| |
| KEEN was the air, the sky was very light, | |
| Soft with shed snow my garden was, and white, | |
| And, walking there, I heard upon the night | |
| Sudden sound of little voices, | |
| Just the prettiest of noises. | 5 |
| |
| It was the strangest, subtlest, sweetest sound, | |
| It seemed above me, seemed upon the ground, | |
| Then swiftly seemed to eddy round and round, | |
| Till I said: “To-night the air is | |
| Surely full of garden fairies.” | 10 |
| |
| And all at once it seemed I grew aware | |
| That little, shining presences were there,— | |
| White shapes and red shapes danced upon the air; | |
| Then a peal of silver laughter, | |
| And such singing followed after | 15 |
| |
| As none of you, I think, have heard. | |
| More soft it was than call of any bird, | |
| Note after note, exquisitely deferred, | |
| Soft as dew-drops when they settle | |
| In a fair flower’s open petal. | 20 |
| |
| “What are these fairies?” to myself I said; | |
| For answer, then, as from a garden’s bed, | |
| On the cold air a sudden scent was shed,— | |
| Scent of lilies, scent of roses, | |
| Scent of Summer’s sweetest posies. | 25 |
| |
| And said a small, sweet voice within my ear: | |
| “We flowers, that sleep through winter, once a year | |
| Are by our flower queen sent to visit here, | |
| That this fact may duly flout us,— | |
| Gardens can look fair without us. | 30 |
| |
| “A very little time we have to play, | |
| Then must we go, oh, very far away, | |
| And sleep again for many a long, long day, | |
| Till the glad birds sing above us, | |
| And the warm sun comes to love us. | 35 |
| |
| “Hark what the roses sing now, as we go;” | |
| Then very sweet and soft, and very low,— | |
| A dream of sound across the garden snow,— | |
| Came the chime of roses singing | |
| To the lily-bell’s faint ringing. | 40 |
| |
ROSES’ SONG “Softly sinking through the snow, | |
| To our winter rest we go, | |
| Underneath the snow to house | |
| Till the birds be in the boughs, | |
| And the boughs with leaves be fair, | 45 |
| And the sun shine everywhere. | |
| |
| “Softly through the snow we settle, | |
| Little snow-drops press each petal. | |
| Oh, the snow is kind and white,— | |
| Soft it is, and very light; | 50 |
| Soon we shall be where no light is,— | |
| But where sleep is, and where night is,— | |
| Sleep of every wind unshaken, | |
| Till our Summer bids us waken.” | |
| |
| Then toward some far-off goal that singing drew; | 55 |
| Then altogether ceased; more steely blue | |
| The blue stars shone; but in my spirit grew | |
| Hope of Summer, love of Roses, | |
| Certainty that Sorrow closes. | |
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