Classic Poem

At Midsummer

A T the dawn's emergence, early in the morning, —
O so cool! —
Early, at the palest and the frailest time of morning,
Heavy is the west, but the clouds look torn in
All the eastern heavens, and the stars seem forlorn in
The dim pool.

Stilly comes the morning, but all the stillness rings
With a shrilly music, chime of silver strings,
With a slender piping, with a quivered trilling, myriad shooting wings,
Fugitive, airial, instant whisperings.

Peaceful is the dawning, calm and very kind,
Hopeful, with the radiant day pressing close behind:
Suddenly and mournfully a solitary wind
Turns to the pine-tops, pleads and beseeches,
Shivers in the elm trees, moans among the beeches, —
Then roams away and vanishes, — a momentary wind,
Unhappy as the wistful heart that seeks what no men find.