It is then the snow-white trillium

Gleam like stars from the carpet

Of last year’s leaves:

And tall white violets glow

Like clouds of nebulæ along the path.

And flecked, like points of light

In the quiet pools of water

Among the gray-green boles,

Are the stars of heaven.

[Pg 8]

[Pg 8]

 The Brook

(Westfield, N. Y.)

Curling and humming its cadences,

It slips past me under the rim of the gorge,

As I peer down through the scarlet sumacs.

Sparkling in the sunlight,

Shimmering in the moonlight,

On and on it goes,

A silvery sheet of song.

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