Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By James MatthewLegaré441 Amy
T
The tender grass pressed by her feet.
The laurel boughs laced overhead,
Shut out the noonday heat.
The softly undulating limbs.
From every blade and leaf arose
The myriad insect hymns.
The grateful twilight of the trees,
Where from the dripping pebbles swelled
A beech’s mossy knees.
(Pure white such purity beseemed!)
Her angel face, and tresses bright
Within the basin gleamed.
Her light hem as we moved along!
To hear the music of her voice
The mockbird hushed his song.
Her lips the Everlasting seal;
The hideous secrets of the grave
The weeping eyes reveal.
The skies are bright as then they were.
My Amy is the only leaf
In all that forest sear.