Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A CRIMSON CLOVER, by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR

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A CRIMSON CLOVER, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: The maples dropped their withered leaves
Last Line: I blest the fearless crimson clover.
Alternate Author Name(s): Dean
Subject(s): Clover

THE Maples dropped their withered leaves;
Wan, through the mist, the sunset shone;
And from the upland, bare of sheaves,
The jay's call floated, weird and lone.
No robin's song the orchard stirred;
No oriole flashed from elm to elm;
Not even the cricket's chirp was heard,
Through all that gray November realm.
So drear the sky, the drifting leaves,
The dank woods, dim through mist and rain,
That mournfully, as one who grieves
Above his dead, I walked the lane.
When lo! 'mid ferns that, fresh and fair,
Still drooped beneath a sheltering wall
And gave their fragrance to the air,
A crimson clover, sweet and tall!

O heart of joy! O breath of June!
O grace I thought forever fled!
The rose's scent, the robin's tune,
Were wafted from that clover red!
The lane grew pink with apple-blooms,
A paradise of murmuring bees,
And softly, through the maple-glooms,
From sunny meadows stole the breeze!

So night fell, but it seemed not dark;
The wind blew, but it was not chill;
Up rolled the mist till I could mark
The Pleiads gleam above the hill.
'Ah, storm,' I said, 'and loss and pain,
Ye are but shadows passing over!'
And, turning homeward through the lane,
I blest the fearless Crimson Clover.

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