Now it is dusky, And the hermit thrush and the black and white warbler Are singing and answering together. There is sweetness in the tree, And fireflies are counting the leaves. I like this country, I like the way it has, But I cannot forget my dream I had of the sea, The gulls swinging and calling, And the foamy towers of the waves. THUNDER SHOWER The dark cloud raged. Gone was the morning light. The big drops darted down: The storm stood tall on the rose-trees: And the bees that were getting honey Out of wet roses, The hiding bees would not come out of the flowers Into the rain. RED CROSS SONG When I heard the bees humming in the hive, They were so busy about their honey, I said to my mother, What can I give, What can I give to help the Red Cross? And Mother said to me: You can give honey too! Honey of smiles! Honey of love! PURPLE ASTERS It isn't alone the asters In my garden, It is the butterflies gleaming Like crowns of kings and queens! It isn't alone purple And blue on the edge of purple, It is what the sun does, And the air moving clearly, The petals moving and the wings, In my queer little garden! SONG FOR A PLAY Soldier drop that golden spear! Wait till the fires arise! Wait till the sky drops down and touches the spear, Crystal and mother-of-pearl! The sunlight droops forward Like wings. The birds sing songs of sun-drops. The sky leans down where the spear stands upward. . . I hear music . . . It is the end . . . PEACOCK FEATHERS On trees of fairyland Grow peacock feathers of daylight colors Like an Austrian fan. But there is a strange thing! I have heard that night gathers these feathers For her cloak; I have heard that the stars, the moon, Are the eyes of peacock feathers From fairy trees. It is a thing that may be, But I should not be sure of it, my dear, If I were you! RED ROOSTER Red rooster in your gray coop, O stately creature with tail-feathers red and blue, Yellow and black, You have a comb gay as a parade On your head: You have pearl trinkets On your feet: The short feathers smooth along your back Are the dark color of wet rocks, Or the rippled green of ships When I look at their sides through water. I don't know how you happened to be made So proud, so foolish, Wearing your coat of many colors, Shouting all day long your crooked words, Loud . . . sharp . . . not beautiful! TREE-TOAD