At Minas Basin and Other Poems — In City Streets

IN CITY STREETS.

The city's ways were crowded thick,-- I bent my steps athrough its mass Of men and women, stone and brick, Its whirring wheels and piping brass.

And all day long, with hurrying feet, I trod the surging marts of trade;

Yet in the rush and roar of street A calm within my breast was made.

For visions came of fair things wrought By beauty's witching hand and grace Upon my spirit when I caught Life's spring-time image of her face:-- Blue violets in mossy bed, Flashing with jewels on their breast;

The sky-stained eggs of robin red Laid in her lined adobe nest;

The shy lone brook, crept soft upon Lest I should fright its brattling play;

The woods ahark for something gone, Or whispering of elf and fay;

The silver lake with lilies in bloom, Their cups half-full of heaven's gold,-- The circling shore all prankt with plume Of ferns, whose fronds the waters told;

And up the hill the whitethroat's song-- A crystal bell that shakes the dew!

While floats in dream the cloud along, And veils the palpitating blue;

The musical and dream-like rain Falling on roof o'er fragrant hay;

The blood-red spear, unflushed of pain, Of sunbeam thrust 'tween battens grey;

And in a trice, the sculptured shore Where halcyon tides with wonder-wings Redden their plumes in toil to soar To where Evangeline's memory clings,-- Such sights and sounds swift came and went,-- Glad sunshafts of an April day!

And to impetuous traffic lent The restful sweetness of the may.

Imprisoned close in city marts, O childhood, so divinely fair, For thee, deep in my heart of hearts, Sweet pity beats her wings all bare!

BAY OF FUNDY.