Lush green the grass that grows between
The willows of the bottom-land;
Verged by the careless water, tall and green,
The brown-topped cat-tails stand.
The cows come gently here to browse,
Slow through the great-leafed sycamores;
You hear a dog bark from a low-roofed house
With cedars round its doors.
Then all is quiet as the wings
Of the high buzzard floating there;
Anon a woman’s high-pitched voice that sings
An old camp-meeting air.
A flapping cock that crows; and then–
Heard drowsy through the rustling corn–
A flutter, and the cackling of a hen
Within a hay-sweet barn.
How still again! no water stirs;
No wind is heard; although the weeds
Are waved a little; and from silk-filled burrs
Drift by a few soft seeds.
So drugged with sleep and dreams, that you
Expect to see her gliding by,–
Hummed round of bees, through blossoms spilling dew,–
The Spirit of July.
(Madison Julius Cawein)
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Based on Topics: Dreams Poems, Woman Poems, Water Poems, Dogs Poems, Weeds Poems, Cows PoemsBased on Keywords: cackling, high-pitched, low-roofed, cat-tails, verged, camp-meeting, bottom-land, hay-sweet