Now in dim woods, tecoma
Her tapers lights,
Like veld-fires twinkling nightly
On distant heights:
Plumbago's dreams are flowers,
Like wefts of mist
That quiver on the hilltops
By sunbeams kist:
And jessamine has stolen
Strips of night's sky
Wherein white stars still glimmer
As day goes by:
Even prickly-pear, the monster,
(Beware of him!)
So hideous and scaly,
Sharp-clawed and grim,
Now decks himself with blossoms,
(Astounding grace!)
Like sudden smiles that brighten