Yolk-colored tongue
⁠Parched beneath a burning sky,
⁠A lazy little tune
⁠Hummed up the crest of some
⁠Soft sloping hill.
⁠One streaming line of beauty
⁠Flowing by a forest
⁠Pregnant with tears.
⁠A hidden nest for beauty
⁠Idly flung by God
⁠In one lonely lingering hour
⁠Before the Sabbath.
⁠A blue-fruited black gum,
⁠Like a tall predella,
⁠Bears a dangling figure,—
⁠Sacrificial dower to the raff,
⁠Swinging alone,
⁠A solemn, tortured shadow in the air.