HE leaves and tassels of the
Were golden-green with May,
Pavilion whence forever
Some angel roundelay.
A carol like a glory
From topmost twig astir,
Enkindled by a flying flame,
The scarlet tanager.
The tree was glad as
When, eager soul on soul,
The saints flock home.
There glistened twiceA wild-throat oriole;
And once the grosbeak's rosy
Poured its enchanted hymn;
While sunny wing and jewel
Lit many a blissful limb.
The whole wide world was in my
Whose catkins danced for mirth,— Plumes gray as curling city smoke,
Plumes brown as fresh-plowed earth;
Even heaven had graced our festival,
For oft the loving
Would find, coaxed by a wistful call,
The bluebird's fleck of sky.
