THE DAY-DREAM (FOR A PICTURE)

THE DAY-DREAM

(FOR A PICTURE)

The thronged boughs of the shadowy sycamore

    Still bear young leaflets half the summer through;

    From when the robin ’gainst the unhidden blue

Perched dark, till now, deep in the leafy core,

The embowered throstle’s urgent wood-notes soar

    Through summer-silence. Still the leaves come new;

    Yet never rosy-sheathed as those which drew

Their spiral tongues from spring-buds heretofore.

Within the branching shade of Reverie

Dreams even may spring till autumn; yet none be

    Like woman’s budding day-dream spirit-fann’d.

Lo! tow’rd deep skies, not deeper than her look,

She dreams; till now on her forgotten book

    Drops the forgotten blossom from her hand.