The Path By The Creek

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There is a path that leads
  Through purple iron-weeds,
  By button-bush and mallow
  Along a creek;
  A path that wildflowers hallow,
  That wild birds seek;
  Roofed thick with eglantine
  And grape and trumpet-vine.

  This side, blackberries sweet
  Glow cobalt in the heat;
  That side, a creamy yellow,
  In summertime
  The pawpaws slowly mellow;
  And autumn's prime
  Strews red the Chickasaw,
  Persimmon brown and haw.

  The glittering dragon-fly,
  A wingéd flash, goes by;
  And tawny wasp and hornet
  Seem gleams that drone;
  The beetle, like a garnet,
  Slips from the stone;
  And butterflies float there,
  Spangling with gold the air.

  Here the brown thrashers hide,
  The chat and cat-bird chide;
  The blue kingfisher houses
  Above the stream,
  And here the heron drowses
  Lost in his dream;
  The vireo's flitting note
  Haunts all the wild remote.

  And now a cow's slow bell
  Tinkles along the dell;
  Where breeze-dropped petals winnow
  From blossomy limbs
  On waters, where the minnow,
  Faint-twinkling, swims;
  Where, in the root-arched shade,
  Slim prisms of light are laid.

  When in the tangled thorn
  The new-moon hangs a horn,
  Or, 'mid the sunset's islands,
  Guides a canoe,
  The brown owl in the silence
  Calls, and the dew
  Beads here its orbs of damp,
  Each one a firefly lamp.

  Then when the night is still
  Here sings the whippoorwill;
  And stealthy sounds of crickets,
  And winds that pass,
  Whispering, through bramble thickets
  Along the grass,
  Faint with far scents of hay,
  Seem feet of dreams astray.

  And where the water shines
  Dark through tree-twisted vines,
  Some water-spirit, dreaming,
  Braids in her hair
  A star's reflection; seeming
  A jewel there;
  While all the sweet night long
  Ripples her quiet song....

  Would I could imitate,
  O path, thy happy state!
  Making my life all beauty,
  All bloom and beam;
  Knowing no other duty
  Than just to dream,
  And far from pain and woe
  Lead feet that come and go.

  Leading to calm content,
  O'er ways the Master went,
  Through lowly things and humble,
  To peace and love;
  Teaching the lives that stumble
  To look above,
  Forget the world of toil
  And all its sad turmoil.

© Madison Julius Cawein