THE cotton clouds float out like seeds From the sky's open milk weed pod; Then late—across the vast grey meads Stretch stars like sprays of golden rod. Then suddenly the harvest moon Arises from the hills and tow'rs, And like a thriftless bee at noon Flits far above the listless flow'rs. Wild asters touch near vagrant path In fragrance of wild clematis; Then like our love's sweet aftermath With haunting pathos lightly kiss. |