Gertrude

Underneath the maple-tree Gertrude worked her filigree, All the summer long; To sweet airs her voice was wed, As she plied her golden thread; Echo stealing through the grove Filched away the words of love, And the birds, from tree to tree, Bore the witching melody Through avenues of Song. Underneath the maple-trees Zephyrs chant her melodies, All the summer long; Words and airs no longer wed, Death has snapped the vocal thread Echo sleeping in the grove Dreams of liquid airs of love, And the birds among the trees Fill with sweetest symphonies Whole avenues of Song.