Poem by Charles Edward Carryl

The Song in the Dell

   I KNOW a way  
Of hearing what the larks and linnets say:  
 The larks tell of the sunshine and the sky;  
 The linnets from the hedges make reply,  
And boast of hidden nests with mocking lay.
 
   I know a way  
Of keeping near the rabbits at their play:  
 They tell me of the cool and shady nooks  
 Where waterfalls disturb the placid brooks  
That I may go and frolic in the spray.
 
   I know a way  
Of catching dewdrops on a night in May,  
 And threading them upon a spear of green,  
 That through their sides translucent may be seen  
The sparkling hue that emeralds display.
 
   I know a way  
Of trapping sunbeams as they nimbly play  
 At hide-and-seek with meadow-grass and flowers,  
 And holding them in store for dreary hours  
When winds are chill and all the sky is gray.
 
   I know a way  
Of stealing fragrance from the new-mown hay  
 And storing it in flasks of petals made,  
 To scent the air when all the flowers fade  
And leave the woodland world to sad decay.
 
   I know a way  
Of coaxing snowflakes in their flight to stay  
 So still awhile, that, as they hang in air,  
 I weave them into frosty lace, to wear  
About my head upon a sultry day.

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