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11 > Page 11 of Blooms of the berry / Madison Julius Cawein.

BLOOMS OF THE BERRY. From cool, clay banks of cressy streams, Rare as the musks of rich hareems, And hot as some sultana's breath With turbulent passions or with death. A haze of floating saffron; sound Of shy, crisp creepings o'er the ground; The dip and stir of twig and leaf; Tempestuous gusts of spices brief From elder bosks and sassafras; Wind-cuffs that dodge the laughing grass; Sharp, sudden songs and whisperings That hint at untold hidden things, Pan and Sylvanus that of old Kept sacred each wild wood and wold. A wily light beneath the trees Quivers and dusks with ev'ry breeze; Mayhap some Hamadryad who, Culling her morning meal of dew From frail accustomed cups of flowers- Some Satyr watching through the bowers- Had, when his goat hoof snapped and pressed A brittle branch, shrunk back distressed, Startled, her wild, tumultuous hair Bathing her limbs one instant there. I I