POETRY.
THE LIME-BLOSSOM AFTER RAIN.
HERE by the Rectory garden's old, red wall, The limes and chestnuts side by side grow tall, And, thickly even, mass against the sky, Their bloom and scents tossed to the passer-by.
And every Spring and Summer, pink and gold, They greet the new year, as it were the old, Closing their draperies with welcome-words Round every little nest of singing birds.
But yester-eve we walked the curving way, And drank the still heat of the summer day, When only winged things could stir the air,— As though the sunlight trembled where they were !
And where with paler green the lime trees spread, The humming bees were swinging overhead, Or climbing, stem by stem, the blossom-sprays, A moving cloud of black and amber rays.
And yet, this night more sweetly bears the breeze Their fragrant burden from the fresh-splashed trees; Oh, sweet the lime-breath pours, when still the sound Of rain drips musically to the ground !
I stand and hold the beauty of the scene :— The branching nut and quince's darker green ; Lime-blossom swaying in the glistening light ; The stealing footstep of the summer night !
Strange thoughts arise, and stay the spreading gloom : The gentleness of strength,—that these should bloom ; The young leaf folding blossom,—and I see The gold-haired children clinging round her knee !
• • • • • • - • • • Then, sudden, float the voices of the choir From the dark church beyond ; and my desire Falls, hushed for ever, with the sobbing sound The•rain-drops murmur to the thirsty ground.
GEORGE HOLMES.
Previous page
