David Morton

FROM what lost centuries that were sweet before,

Comes this long wave of Summer, bursting white

In shivered apple-blossoms on the shore

That is our homeland for a day and night!

A wide, hushed spirit floats above the foam,

A sweetness that was ancient flower and face,

When wine-red poppies stained the walls of Rome,

And daisies starred those summer fields of Thrace.

Something survives and haunts the leafy shade,

Some fragrance that was petals once, and lips,

And whispered, brief avowals that they made—

Borne hither, now, in vague, invisible ships,

Whose weightless cargoes, poured upon the air,

Are flowers forgot, and faces that were fair.