While we stand watching her, Staring like gabies, Safe in each egg are the Bird's little babies.

Soon the frail eggs they shall Chip, and upspringing Make all the April woods Merry with singing.

Younger than we are, O children, and frailer, Soon in blue air they'll be, Singer and sailor.

We, so much older, Taller and stronger, We shall look down on the Birdies no longer.

They shall go flying With musical speeches High overhead in the Tops of the beeches.

In spite of our wisdom And sensible talking, We on our feet must go Plodding and walking.

III

THE FLOWERS

ALL the names I know from nurse: Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, Bachelor's b.u.t.tons, Lady's smock, And the lady Hollyhock.

Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny trees for tiny dames-- These must all be fairy names!

Tiny woods below whose boughs Shady fairies weave a house; Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, Where the braver fairies climb!

Fair are grown-up people's trees, But the fairest woods are these; Where, if I were not so tall, I should live for good and all.

IV

SUMMER SUN

GREAT is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays

Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a c.h.i.n.k or two To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; And through the broken edge of tiles, Into the laddered hayloft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue, Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child, to paint the rose, The gardener of the World, he goes.

V

THE DUMB SOLDIER

WHEN the gra.s.s was closely mown, Walking on the lawn alone, In the turf a hole I found And hid a soldier underground.

Spring and daisies came apace; Gra.s.ses hide my hiding place; Gra.s.ses run like a green sea O'er the lawn up to my knee.

Under gra.s.s alone he lies, Looking up with leaden eyes, Scarlet coat and pointed gun, To the stars and to the sun.

When the gra.s.s is ripe like grain When the scythe is stoned again, When the lawn is shaven clear, Then my hole shall reappear.

I shall find him, never fear, I shall find my grenadier; But for all that's gone and come, I shall find my soldier dumb.

He has lived, a little thing, In the gra.s.sy woods of spring; Done, if he could tell me true, Just as I should like to do.

He has seen the starry hours And the springing of the flowers; And the fairy things that pa.s.s In the forests of the gra.s.s.

In the silence he has heard Talking bee and ladybird, And the b.u.t.terfly has flown O'er him as he lay alone.

Not a word will he disclose, Not a word of all he knows.

I must lay him on the shelf, And make up the tale myself.

VI

AUTUMN FIRES

IN the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers, The red fire blazes, The grey smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer Fires in the fall!

VII

THE GARDENER

THE gardener does not love to talk, He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the key.

Away behind the currant row Where no one else but cook may go, Far in the plots, I see him dig, Old and serious, brown and big.