GARDEN GOSSIP

Thin, chisel-fine a cricket chipped

The crystal silence into sound;

And where the branches dreamed and dripped

A grasshopper its dagger stripped

And on the humming darkness ground.

A bat, against the gibbous moon,

Danced, implike, with its lone delight;

The glowworm scrawled a golden rune

Upon the dark; and, emerald-strewn,

The firefly hung with lamps the night.

The flowers said their beads in prayer,

Dew-syllables of sighed perfume;

Or talked of two, soft-standing there,

One like a gladiole, straight and fair,

And one like some rich poppy-bloom.

The mignonette and feverfew

Laid their pale brows together:— “See!”

One whispered: “Did their step thrill through

Your roots?” — “Like rain.” — “I touched the two

And a new bud was born in me.”

One rose said to another:— “Whose

Is this dim music? song, that parts

My crimson petals like the dews?”

“My blossom trembles with sweet news —

It is the love of two young hearts.”