IV
"And the vine on the house where you live,"
Said the Song,
'The vine that I sang in blossom, or wintry bare—
You shall sing to yourself the air
Of the Song of the Vine; it shall follow you everywhere;
Of the vine like a silent, purple cataract pouring down,
Here in the midst of the noise and the dust of the town.
Are you gay? Do you grieve?—
The Song will find you;
Whether you stay or go the Vine will remind you
Of the Song of the Vine, the Song of the House of the Vine—
The Song of Home, and Children, and Love Divine.
V
"And the Song of the Stars, and the Shadow, and Rising Sun,
And the Song of the Street,
Whose music is in your feet,
And the Song of the Vine, and the House of the Vine—
One poet has sung them all,
And they are but one,"
Said the Song.
THE NET
Caught in the golden net of the poet's song,
And held there close and long,
How many a marvelous thing!
A humming-bird's invisible wing;
A rose that sent its luring fragrance through night air,
Taken all unaware;
