The Blue Heron

I see the great blue heron

Rising among the reeds

And floating down the wind,

Like a gliding sail

With the set of the stream.

I hear the two-horse mower

Clacking among the hay,

In the heat of a July noon,

And the driver's voice

As he turns his team.

I see the meadow lilies

Flecked with their darker tan,

The elms, and the great white clouds;

And all the world

Is a passing dream.