Classic Poem

The hot day done,—as we went by
The garden wall in the sighing night,
And drank the coolness of the sky,
And smelt the sweetness of the Lime,—
‘How fast,’ she said, ‘this fragrant time
Goes by! So pray you, haste to write
The Calendar of Fragrances.’

For her sweet sake of many a rhyme,
May Fancy be my gardener now,
With maiden Lilac, or Lady Lime,
To turn the flowery calendar,
With all its sweets to rhyme for her;
That she may read beneath the bough
The Calendar of Fragrances.

First in the February snow,
The Snowdrop has the snow's fresh scent;
The Celandine, as well you know,
Has fragrance only faries feel;
As bold March trundles on the wheel,
And Daisies are an old event
I' the Calendar of Fragrances.

Now come Primrose and Daffodil,
And lift their caps from last year's leaves,
And scatter fragrance with a will;
And Violets transmute the dew,
And Bluebells out of sunshine brew
The headiest ale that April gives
The Calendar of Fragrances.

The dainty Lilac that's a maid
In April, yields her sweets in May,
In white and lilac all arrayed,
And married long ere comes the Rose:
Syringa comes though, ere she goes,
While Hawthorn scores with Holiday!
The Calendar of Fragrances.

Ere comes the Rose! Diana knows
Why rhyme grows restless at the word;
My Calendar may pause, or close,
When every Rose breathes sweet to say—
‘To-morrow is Diana's day!’
And Roses crown, with one accord,
The Calendar of Fragrances.

Breathe sweet, red Roses! bloom, oh white!
Red Roses, woo her tenderly!
White Roses, guard her sleep to-night!
And you, wild Rose, of mountain bloom,
Scatter faint fragrance in her room,
And twine with mountain memory
The Calendar of Fragrances.

Now Autumn comes, and brings the rhyme
Of other fragrances and flowers;
But Roses crown the flowery time,
And keep and crown the destined day,
When at Diana's feet I lay,
With Roses twined about its hours,
The Calendar of Fragrances.