HOW many colors here do we see set,
Like rings upon Godâ??s finger? Some say three,
Some four, some six, some seven. All agree
To left of red, to right of violet, ...
HOW slowly creeps the hand of Time
On the old clockâ??s green-mantled face!
Yea, slowly as those ivies climb,
The hours roll round with patient pace; ...
THERE is a singing in the summer air,
The blue and brown moths flutter oâ??er the grass,
The stubble bird is creaking in the wheat,
And perchâ??d upon the honeysuckle-hedge ...
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Though all the summer skies be overcast,
Haply I will go down to her, some day,
And cast my rests of life before her feet,
That she may have her will of me, being so sweet
And none gainsay!