1. THE GARDEN Poco sostenuto in A major
The laying tide of inarticulate air.
Vivace in A major
The iris people dance.
2. THE POOL Allegretto in A minor
Cool-hearted dim familiar of the dove.
3. THE BIRDS Presto in F major
I keep a frequent tryst.
Presto meno assai
The blossom-powdered orangeitree.
4. TO THE MOON Allegro con brio in A major
Moon that shone on Babylon.
TO MOZART
What junipers are these, inlaid
� � � With flame of the pomegranate tree?
The god of gardens must have made
� � � This still unrumored place for thee
To rest from immortality,
� � � And dream within the splendid shade
Some more elusive symphony
� � � Than orchestra has ever played.
I In A major
Poco sosteniao
The laying tide of inarticulate air
Breaks here in flowers as the sea in foam,
But with no satin lisp of failing wave:
The odor-laden winds are very still.
An unimagined music here exhales
In upcurled petal, dreamy bud half-furled,
And variations of thin vivid leaf:
Symphonic beauty that some god forgot.
If form could waken into lyric sound,
This flock of irises like poising birds
Would feel song at their slender feathered throats,
And pour into a grey-winged aria
Their wrinkled silver fingermarked with pearl;
That flight of ivory roses high along
The airy azure of the larkspur spires
Would be a fugue to puzzle nightingales
With tool-evasive rapture, phrase on phrase.
Where the hibiscus flares would cymbals clash,
And the black cypress like a deep bassoon
Would hum a clouded amber melody.
But all across the trudging ragged chords
That are the tangled grasses in the heat,
The mariposa lilies fluttering
Like trills upon some archangelic flute,
The roses and carnations and divine
Small violets that voice the vanished god,
There is a lure of passion-poignant tone
Not flower-of-pomegranate-that finds the heart
As stubborn oboes do-can breathe in air,
Nor poppies, nor keen lime, nor orange-bloom.
What zone of wonder in the ardent dusk
Of trees that yearn and cannot understand,
Vibrates as to the golden shepherd horn
That stirs some great adagio with its cry
And will not let it rest?
� � � � � � � � 0 tender trees,
Your orchid, like a shepherdess of dreams,
Calls home her whitest dream from following
Elusive laughter of the unmindful god!
Vivace
The iris people dance
Like any nimble faun:
To rhythmic radiance
They foot it in the dawn.
They dance and have no need
Of crystal-dripping flute
Or chuckling river-reed,-
Their music hovers mute.
The dawn-lights flutter by
All noiseless, but they know!
Such children of the sky
Can hear the darkness go.
But does the morning play
Whatever they demand-
Or amber-barred bourr
(Grace Hazard Conkling)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, Nature Poems, Dreams Poems, Flowers Poems, Cry Poems, Birds Poems, Morning Poems, Garden Poems, Dancing Poems, Curiosity Poems, Immortality PoemsBased on Keywords: junipers, bassoon, hibiscus, poco, upcurled, fugue, allegro, archangelic, mariposa, grey-winged, symphonic