THERE are shadows on the pathway in the wood

And a tracery of greenness overhead ;

In ecstasy the glistening cherry stood—

Her petal-hidden boughs with April sun spray wed.

Joy-burnished-is the air ; the autumn sod

With green flame of Dog's Mercury is lit-—

What raptured air drift from the torch of God

By the slow splendour of the Spring hath lighted it ?