I
Night and Day When the golden day is done,Through the closing portal,Child and garden,Flower and sun,Vanish all things mortal.
As the blinding shadows fall As the rays diminish,Under evening's cloak they all Roll away and vanish.
Garden darkened,daisy shut,Child in bed,they slumber——
Glow-worm in the hallway rut,Mice among the lumber.
In the darkness houses shine,Parents move the candles;
Till on all the night divine Turns the bedroom handles.
Till at last the day begins In the east a-breaking,In the hedges and the whins Sleeping birds a-waking.
In the darkness shapes of things,Houses,trees and hedges,Clearer grow;and sparrow's wings Beat on window ledges.
These shall wake the yawning maid;
She the door shall open——
Finding dew on garden glade And the morning broken.
There my garden grows again Green and rosy painted,As at eve behind the pane From my eyes it fainted.
Just as it was shut away,Toy-like,in the even,Here Isee it glow with day Under glowing heaven.
Every path and every plot,Every blush of roses,Every blue forget-me-not Where the dew reposes,"Up!"they cry,"the day is come On the smiling valleys:
We have beat the morning drum;
Playmate,join your allies!"
II
Nest Eggs Birds all the summer day Flutter and quarrel Here in the arbour-like Tent of the laurel.
Here in the fork The brown nest is seated;
For little blue eggs The mother keeps heated.
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,Ochildren,and frailer,Soon in the 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 Iknow from nurse:
Gardener's garters,Shepherd's purse,Bachelor's buttons,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 Iwere not so tall,Ishould live for good and all.
IV
Summer Sun Great is the sun,and wide he goes Through empty heaven with 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 chink 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 hay-loft 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 grass was closely mown,Walking on the lawn alone,In the turf a hole Ifound,And hid a soldier underground.
Spring and daisies came apace;
Grasses hid my hiding place;
Grasses run like a green sea O'er the lawn up to my knee.
Under grass alone he lies,Looking up with leaden eyes,Scarlet coat and pointed gun,To the stars and to the sun.
When the grass is ripe like grain,When the scythe is stoned again,When the lawn is shaven clear,The my hole shall reappear.
Ishall find him,never fear,Ishall find my grenadier;
But for all that's gone and come,Ishall find my soldier dumb.
He has lived,a little thing,In the grassy woods of spring;
Done,if he could tell me true,Just as Ishould like to do.
He has seen the starry hours And the springing of the flowers;
And the fairy things that pass In the forests of the grass.
In the silence he has heard Talking bee and ladybird,And the butterfly has flown O'er him as he lay alone.
Not a word will he disclose,Not a word of all he knows.
Imust 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,Isee him dig,Old and serious,brown and big.
He digs the flowers,green,red,and blue,Nor wishes to be spoken to.
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,And never seems to want to play.
Silly gardener!summer goes,And winter comes with pinching toes,When in the garden bare and brown You must lay your barrow down.
Well now,and while the summer stays,To profit by these garden days Ohow much wiser you would be To play at Indian wars with me!
VIII
Historical Associations Dear Uncle Jim.this garden ground That now you smoke your pipe around,has seen immortal actions done And valiant battles lost and won.
Here we had best on tip-toe tread,While Ifor safety march ahead,For this is that enchanted ground Where all who loiter slumber sound.
Here is the sea,here is the sand,Here is the simple Shepherd's Land,Here are the fairy hollyhocks,And there are Ali Baba's rocks.
But yonder,see!apart and high,Frozen Siberia lies;where I,With Robert Bruce William Tell,Was bound by an enchanter's spell.
