A Midsummer Day

The locust gyres; the heat intensifies' The rain-crow croaks from hot-leafed tree to tree: The butterfly, a flame-fleck, aimlessly Droops down the air and knows not where it flies. Beside the stream, whose bed in places The small green heron flaps; the minnows flee: And mid the blackberry-lilies, wasp and bee Drowse where the cattle pant with half-closed eyes. The Summer Day, like some tired labourer, Lays down her burden here and sinks to rest, The tan of toil upon her face and hands: She dreams, and lo, the heavens over her Unfold her dream: Along the boundless West Rolls gold the harvest of the sunset's lands.