BETWEEN the feet of the summer hours
I see the love-fire in the flowers ;
I see the cloud-boat round to the breeze,
And sail and sail the azure seas.
I see the sunlight dull and die,
I see the long broad shadows lie
On a level where sheep and heifers graze,
And the little wind at the wood’s edge plays.
Again I hear the thrush wind round
The dusk with far-off, fading sound ;
Once more, like the song in the twilight tree,
A dream-bliss dies in the heart of me.
John Vance Cheney.