Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 3 — Nooning

I

Weak winds that make the waters wink;

White clouds that sail from lands of Fable To white Utopias, vague, that brink Sky-gulfs of blue unfathomable: Their rolling shadows, drifting O’er hills of forest, lifting Wild peaks of purple range, that loom and sink.

II

Warm knolls, whereon the Summer dreams;

And droning dells, where all her brightness Lies, lulled with hymns of mountain-streams’ Far-foaming falls of windy whiteness: Where, from the glooming hollow, With cawing crows that follow, The hunted hawk wings wearily and screams.

III

Dry-buzzing heat and drought that shrills With one harsh locust’s lonesome whirring;

No voice amid the answering hills Recedes in echoes far-recurring;

As when, with twilight wimpled, The Morning, rosy dimpled, From dewy tops called o’er responding rills.

IV

Wan with sweet summer hangs the deep Hot heaven with the high sun hearted-- A great, wide bluebell bloom asleep With golden-pistiled petals parted.

-- So lone, one would not startle If from yon wood should dartle Some wildwood Dream, some Myth the wildwoods keep.

THE LOG-BRIDGE