It is tender and benignant,

Softening all it touches,

Hiding the roughness,

Covering the coarseness,

With a glow of silver splendor

And a lucent flood

Of beauty.

[Pg 13]

[Pg 13]

 Wings

There come to the flowers

In my garden

Butterflies, golden-spotted tawny,

Blue-spangled and sulphur;

Glistening dragon-flies, zooming bumble bees,

Droning honey-bees.

Softly whirring comes

The vivid humming-bird,

Sipping, sipping all day long.

At nightfall I hear the flutter of the

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