The full September moon sheds floods of light, And all the bayou’s face is gemmed with stars, Save where are dropped fantastic shadows down From sycamores and moss-hung cypress trees. With slumberous sound the waters half asleep Creep on and on their way, ’twixt rankish reeds, Through marsh and lowlands stretching to the Gulf. Begirt with cotton fields, Anguilla sits Half bird-like, dreaming on her Summer nest. Amid her spreading figs and roses, still In bloom with all their Spring and Summer hues, Pomegranates hang with dapple cheeks full ripe, And over all the town a dreamy haze Drops down. The great plantations, stretching far Away, are plains of cotton, downy white. O, glorious is this night of joyous sounds; Too full for sleep. Aromas wild and sweet, From muscadine, late blooming jessamine, And roses, all the heavy air suffuse. Faint bellows from the alligators come From swamps afar, where sluggish lagoons give To them a peaceful home. The katydids Make ceaseless cries. Ten thousand insects’ wings Stir in the moonlight haze and joyous shouts Of Negro song and mirth awake hard by The cabin dance. O, glorious is this night! The Summer sweetness fills my heart with songs, I can not sing, with loves I can not speak.
A Psyche of Spring
Thou gaily painted butterfly, exquisite thing,
A child of light and blending rainbow hues,
In loveliness a Psyche of the Spring,
Companion for the rose and diamond dews;
'Tis thine, in sportive joy, from hour to hour,
To ride the breeze from flower to flower.
But thou wast once a worm of hueless dye.
Now, seeing thee, gay thing, afloat in bliss,
I take new hope in thoughts of bye and bye,
When I, as thou, have shed my chrysalis.
I dream now of eternal springs of light
In which, as thou, I too may have my flight.