Classic Poem

The virginal lights of day flash up
The lustrous blue of the eastern sky;
The dewdrops gleam in the violet's cup,
And the robin's song drifts by.

The cold, deep sea, on the shining sands,
In murmurous cadence comes and goes,
And visions of flower-sweet, tropic lands
Are born from its tidal flows.

As opal and gold its waters tinge,
And tall sails loom from the shadows grim,
The first sun-gleam parts the eastern fringe
Of waves, where the gray gulls swim.

And fragrant and rich the apple blooms
Swing down from the knarled and mossy boughs,
And amid the clover's purple glooms
Brown bees hold a high carouse.

On sloping hillsides, in meadows low,
The new grass bends to the southern breeze,
And anemones raise their stars of snow
From the foot of bosky trees.

And far away, like a radiant dream,
The winding river its glimmer shows;
And nearer at hand the pastures gleam
With the white of daisy-blows.

And fair with blossoms, and glad with song,
The morning comes through the misty haze,
And swiftly the mountain crests along
Its amethyst glory plays.