Sweeps the rain in a mist
Of rose and amethyst,
Up from the purple sea,
Scented deliciously.
Trembles the wind’s own lure,
Pleading, passionate, pure,
Touching the brow and the cheek
With lips that quiver to speak.
Up from the pastures push
The plumes of the steeple-bush—
To wave and beckon and nod
To the beautiful crimson-rod.
Comes the pale, delicate sheen
Of the awakened green;
The mass to the shaded nook,
The laugh of the throat of the brook.
Startles the emerald hush
With exquisite notes the thrush;
Liquid, rapturous, clear,
Straight thro’ the sunset—Hear!
“Beautiful, beautiful, sweet”—
Oh, hear the notes repeat!
“Beautiful, beautiful, sweet,
Sweet—sweet—sweet!”
“After Summer Days” as it appears in Higginson’s The Voice of April-Land (1903).
“After Summer Days” printed in an unidentified publication. Clipping courtesy of the Ella Higginson Papers, Center for Pacific Northwest Studies, Heritage Resources, Western Washington University, Bellingham Washington.