A Discord

It came to pass upon a summer’s day,
When from the flowers indeed my soul had caught
Fresh bloom, and turned their richness into thought,
That--having made my footsteps free to stray--
They brought me wandering by some sudden way
Back to the bloomless city, and athwart
The doleful streets and many a closed-up court
That prisoned here and there a spent noon-ray.
O how most bitterly upon me broke
The sight of all the summerless lost folk!--
For verily their music and their gladness
Could only seem to me like so much sadness,
Beside the inward rhapsody of art
And flowers and Chopin-echoes at my heart.