Summer Changes

Sang the Lily, and sang the Rose,
Out of the heart of my garden close:
"O joy, O joy of the summer-tide!"
Sang the Wind, as it moved about them:
"Roses were made for the Wind to love them.
Dear little buds, in the leaves that hide!"

Sang the Trees, as they rustled together:
"Oh, the joy of the summer weather!
Roses and Lilies, how do you fare?"
Sang the Red Rose, and sang the White:
"Glad we are of the Sun's large light.
And the songs of birds that dart through the air."

Lily, and Rose, and tall, green Tree,
Swaying boughs where the bright birds be,
Thrilled by music, and trembling with wings,
How glad they were on that summer day!
Little they recked of skies cold and gray,
Or the dreary dirge that a Storm-wind sings.

Golden butterflies gleam in the Sun,
Laugh at the flowers and kiss each one;
And great bees come, with their sleepy tune.
To sip their honey and circle round;
And the flowers are lulled by that drowsy sound.
And fall asleep in the heart of the noon.

A small, white cloud in a sky of blue;
Roses and Lilies, what will they do?
For a Wind springs up and sings in the Trees;
Down comes the rain. The garden's awake:
Roses and Lilies begin to quake,
That were rocked to sleep by the gentle breeze.

Ah, Roses and Lilies! Each delicate petal
The Wind and the rain together unsettle, —
This side and that side the tall Trees sway:
But the Wind goes by, and the rain stops soon,
And the shadow lifts from the face of the noon,
And the flowers are glad in the Sun's warm ray.

Sing, my Lilies, and sing, my Roses,
With never a dream that the Summer closes;
But the Trees are old, and I fancy they tell.
Each unto each, how the Summer flies:
They remember the last year's wintry skies;
But that Summer returns, the Trees know well.