Mid this hot green glowing gloom br A word falls with a raindrop's boom... br br Like baskets of ripe fruit in air br The bird-songs seem, suspended where br br Those goldfinches--the ripe warm lights br Peck slyly at them--take quick flights. br br My feet are feathered like a bird br Among the shadows scarcely heard; br br I bring you branches green with dew br And fruits that you may crown anew br br Your whirring waspish-gilded hair br Amid this cornucopia-- br br Until your warm lips bear the stains br And bird-blood leap within your veins.