| |
| A LIGHTER scarf of richer fold | |
| The morning flushed upon our sight, | |
| And Evening trimmed her lamps of gold, | |
| From deeper springs of purer light; | |
| And softer drips bedewed the lea, | 5 |
| And whiter blossoms veiled the tree, | |
| And bluer waves danced on the sea | |
| When baby Zulma came to be! | |
| |
| The day before, a bird had sung | |
| Strange greetings on the roof and flown; | 10 |
| And Night’s immaculate priestess flung | |
| A diamond from her parted zone | |
| Upon the crib beside the bed, | |
| Whereunto, as the doctor said, | |
| A king or queen would soon be led | 15 |
| By some sweet Ariel overhead. | |
| |
| Ere yet the sun had crossed the line | |
| When we, at Aries’ double bars, | |
| Behold him, tempest-beaten, shine | |
| In stormy Libra’s triple stars: | 20 |
| What time the hillsides shake with corn | |
| And boughs of fruitage laugh unshorn | |
| And cheery echoes wake the morn | |
| To gales of fragrance harvest-born. | |
| |
| In storied spots of vernal flame | 25 |
| And breezy realms of tossing shade, | |
| The tripping elves tumultuous came | |
| To join the fairy cavalcade: | |
| From blushing chambers of the rose, | |
| And bowers the lily’s buds enclose, | 30 |
| And nooks and dells of deep repose, | |
| Where human sandal never goes, | |
| |
| The rabble poured its motley tide: | |
| Some upon airy chariots rode, | |
| By cupids showered from side to side, | 35 |
| And some the dragon-fly bestrode; | |
| While troops of virgins, left and right, | |
| Like microscopic trails of light, | |
| The sweeping pageant made as bright | |
| As beams a rainbow in its flight! | 40 |
| |
| It passed: the bloom of purple plums | |
| Was rippled by trumpets rallying long | |
| O’er beds of pinks; and dwarfish drums | |
| Struck all the insect world to song: | |
| The milkmaid caught the low refrain, | 45 |
| The ploughman answered to her strain, | |
| And every warbler of the plain | |
| The ringing chorus chirped again! | |
| |
| Beneath the sunset’s faded arch, | |
| It formed and filed within our porch, | 50 |
| With not a ray to guide its march | |
| Except the twilight’s silver torch: | |
| And thus she came from clouds above, | |
| With spirits of the glen and grove, | |
| A flower of grace, a cooing dove, | 55 |
| A shrine of prayer and star of love! | |
| |
| A queen of hearts!—her mighty chains | |
| Are beads of coral round her strung, | |
| And, ribbon-diademed, she reigns, | |
| Commanding in an unknown tongue. | 60 |
| The kitten spies her cunning ways, | |
| The patient cur romps in her plays, | |
| And glimpses of her earlier days | |
| Are seen in picture-books of fays. | |
| |
| To fondle all things doth she choose, | 65 |
| And when she gets, what some one sends, | |
| A trifling gift of tiny shoes, | |
| She kisses both as loving friends; | |
| For in her eyes this orb of care, | |
| Whose hopes are heaps of frosted hair, | 70 |
| Is but a garland, trim and fair, | |
| Of cherubs twining in the air. | |
| |
| O, from a soul suffused with tears | |
| Of trust thou mayst be spared the thorn | |
| Which it has felt in other years,— | 75 |
| Across the morn our Lord was born, | |
| I waft thee blessings! At thy side | |
| May his invisible seraphs glide; | |
| And tell thee still, whate’er betide, | |
| For thee, for thine, for all, He died! | 80 |
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