Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 3 — July

JULY

Now ’tis the time when, tall, The long blue torches of the bellflower gleam Among the trees; and, by the wooded stream, In many a fragrant ball, Blooms of the button-bush fall.

Let us go forth and seek Woods where the wild plums redden and the beech Plumps its stout burrs; and, swelling, just in reach, The pawpaw, emerald-sleek, Ripens along the creek.

Now ’tis the time when ways Of glimmering green flaunt white the giant plumes Of the black-cohosh; and through bramble glooms,-- A blur of orange rays,-- The butterfly-blossoms blaze.

Let us go forth and hear The spiral music that the locusts beat, And that small spray of sound, so grassy sweet, Dear to a country ear, The cricket’s summer cheer.

Now golden celandine Is hairy hung with silvery sacs of seeds, And bugled o’er with freckled gold, like beads, Beneath the fox-grape vine, The jewel-weed’s blossoms shine.

Let us go forth and see The dragon-and the butterfly, like gems, Spangling the sunbeams; and the clover stems, Weighed down with many a bee, Nodding mellifluously.

Now morns are full of song;

The cat-bird and the red-bird and the jay Upon the hilltops rouse the ruddy day, Who, dewy, blithe, and strong, Lures their wild wings along.

Now noons are full of dreams;

The clouds of heaven and the wandering breeze Follow a vision; and the flowers and trees, The hills and fields and streams, Are lapped in mystic gleams.

The nights are full of love;

The stars and moon take up the golden tale Of the sunk sun, and passionate and pale, Mixing their fires above, Grow eloquent thereof.

Such days are like a sigh That beauty heaves from a full heart of bliss: Such nights are like the sweetness of a kiss On lips that half deny-- The warm lips of July.