large/11091/among_the_trees_again_1609_librivox_64kb_mp3/trees_45_stein_64kb_1
large/11091/among_the_trees_again_1609_librivox_64kb_mp3/trees_45_stein_64kb
English
11091
Till the sun begins the lighting Of his western fires, that smiting Through the orchard boughs are splintered into spears of ruddy flame; An irradiating splendor That transfigures all the slender Little leafless twigs and branches with a glory without name! TILL THE SUN BEGAN THE LIGHTING OF HIS WESTERN FIRES THAT SMITING THROUGH THE ORCHARD BOUGHS ARE SPLINTERED INTO SPEARS OF RUDDY FLAME AN IRRADIATING SPLENDOR THAT TRANSFIGURES ALL THE SLENDER LITTLE LEAFLESS TWIGS AND BRANCHES WITH A GLORY WITHOUT NAME
ness of the jangle Of the sheep-bells, in the tangle Of the wild witch-hazel bushes and the spreading red-bud trees! —Ah, the silence when it ceases! But the beauty of the fleeces, And the soft eyes peering at me through the woodbine lattices! And beyond them, and the network Of the dogwood, and the fretwork Of the interlacing grapevines, and across the meadow land, I can see the color showing Where the winter-wheat is growing, With the corn encamped about it like a plumed protecting band. While among the many-seeded Tufts of russet weeds, unheeded, Truant ducks go idly twinkling through the yellow stubble-field; Their white feathers like the glosses Of the shining silver bosses That adorn the tawny luster of an olden golden shield. In long loops from off the hedges, Trailing downward to the edges Of the wayside grass and clover-leaves, fine cobweb threads are wound; Fairy clues that lead my eager Errant fancy to beleaguer Some concealed, enchanted chamber in the richly covered ground. ILVESTRA LANE OH THE SWEETNESS OF THE JANGLE OF THE SHEEP BELLS IN THE TANGLE OF WILD WITCH HAZEL BUSHES AND THE SPREADING RED BUD TREES AH THE SILENCE WHEN IT CEASES BUT THE BEAUTY OF THE FLEECES AND THE SOFT EYES PEERING AT ME THROUGH THE WOODBINE LATTICES AND BEYOND THEM IN THE NETWORK OF THE DOGWOOD AND THE FRETWORK OF THE INTERLACING GRAPEVINES AND ACROSS THE MEADOW LAND I CAN SEE THE COLORS SHOWING WHERE THE WINTER WHEAT IS GROWING WITH THE CORN ENCAMPED ABOUT IT LIKE A PLUMED PROTECTING BAND WHILE AMONG THE MANY SEATED TUFTS OF RUSSET WEEDS UNHEEDED TRUANT DUCKS SO IDLY TWINKLING THROUGH THE YELLOW STUBBLE FIELD THEIR WHITE FEATHERS LIKE THE GLOSSES OF THE SHINING SILVER BOSSES THAT ADORE THE TAWNY LUSTRE OF AN OLDEN GOLDEN SHIELD IN LONG LOOPS FROM OFF THE HEDGES TRILLING DOWNWARD TO THE EDGES OF THE WAYSIDE GRASS AND CLOVER LEAVES FINE COBWEB THREADS ARE WOUND FAIRY CLUES THAT LEAD MY EAGER ERRANT FANCY TO BELEAGUER SOME CONCEALED ENCHANTED CHAMBER IN THE RICHLY COVERED GROUND
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