Classic Poem

A CRIMSON opulence and foam of white,
Through which the bees wing with a drowsy drone;
A mound of pansies, belted with a zone
Of dainty pinks, sweet with the kiss of night;
Great golden clusters, wherein moths delight,
And scarlet sprays by whispering breezes blown
Athwart the path, down whose cool way has flown
A humming-bird, like sun-made iris bright.

And here, where orioles make sumptuous feast,
And robins gather in the fragrant shade,
And butterflies are free to come and go,
There blooms a lily from the distant east,
That brings to mind a rare Circassian maid,
Haunting some grim Sheik's dim Seraglio.