When the hornet hangs in the holly hock, And the brown bee drones i' the rose, And the west is a red-streaked four-o'clock, And summer is near its close-- It's--Oh, for the gate, and the locust lane; And dusk, and dew, and home again!

Old homes! old hearts! Upon my soul forever Their peace and gladness lie like tears and laughter.

Again let us dream where the land lies sunny And live, like the bees, on our hearts' old honey, Away from the world that slaves for money-- Come, journey the way with me.

I am a part of all you see In Nature: part of all you feel: I am the impact of the bee Upon the blossom; in the tree I am the sap--that shall reveal The leaf, the bloom--that flows and flutes Up from the darkness through its roots.

Though sands be black and bitter black the sea, Night lie before me and behind me night, And God within far Heaven refuse to light The consolation of the dawn for me,-- Between the shadowy burns of Heaven and Hell, It is enough love leaves my soul to dwell With memory.

There are haunters of the silence, ghosts that hold the heart and brain.