162 AMY LOWELL
��Flutter in the breeze
As they please.
And I weep ;
For the lime tree is in blossom
And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.
And the plashing of waterdrops
In the marble fountain
Comes down the garden paths.
The dripping never stops.
Underneath my stiffened gown
Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble
basin, A basin in the midst of hedges grown So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding. But she guesses he is near, And the sliding of the water Seems the stroking of a dear Hand upon her.
What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown ! I should like to see it lying in a heap upon the
ground. All the pink and silver crumpled up on the
ground. I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the
paths, And he would stumble after Bewildered by my laughter.
�� �
