Madison Julius Cawein (Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн)
A Night in June
I. White as a lily moulded of Earth's milk That eve the moon bloomed in a hyacinth sky; Soft in the gleaming glens the wind went by, Faint as a phantom clothed in unseen silk: Bright as a naiad's leap, from shine to shade The runnel twinkled through the shaken brier; Above the hills one long cloud, pulsed with fire, Flashed like a great enchantment-welded blade. And when the western sky seemed some weird land, And night a witching spell at whose command One sloping star fell green from heav'n; and deep The warm rose opened for the moth to sleep; Then she, consenting, laid her hands in his, And lifted up her lips for their first kiss. II. There where they part, the porch's steps are strewn With wind-blown petals of the purple vine; Athwart the porch the shadow of a pine Cleaves the white moonlight; and like some calm rune Heaven says to Earth, shines the majestic moon; And now a meteor draws a lilac line Across the welkin, as if God would sign The perfect poem of this night of June. The wood-wind stirs the flowering chestnut-tree, Whose curving blossoms strew the glimmering grass Like crescents that wind-wrinkled waters glass; And, like a moonstone in a frill of flame, The dewdrop trembles on the peony, As in a lover's heart his sweetheart's name.
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