Clinton Scollard

“ To tread with you where meads are green and gold,
Where upland slopes are strewn with daisy-snow,
And bee-balm torches light the flocks to fold,
And willow branches wave
Above Oriskany, singing far below
Its liquid summer stave. X
Now south we sail where stormy currents meet
Round the wind-harassed cape of Hatteras,
Beyond whose beacons, when the tides retreat,
The wide sea-mirror is like burnished glass ”

“ Here down the live-oak aisles ’tis ours to stray
With wraiths of many a stern conquistador,
Those vanished warriors of an elder day
When gray San Marco bore the brunt of war;
Here we in revery lean
Upon the ramparts beetling o’er the bay,
And watch the shifting scene;— XII
The boats that dip and dart like living things,
Seeking the open sea beyond the bar ”

“ The star-sown hours beneath the Cambridge trees,
When o’er us wheeled the bright processional
Of bold Orion and the Pleiades,
And how we strolled along
Laughterful, and oblivious to all
Save the sweet thrall of Song. IV
Youth has its visions and its fervors ”