Classic Poem

" Coo! coo! coo! " says Arne,
Calling the doves at Mendon.
Under the vine-clad porch she stands,
A gentle maiden with willing hands,
Dropping the grains of yellow corn.
Low and soft, like a mellow horn,
While the sunshine over her falls,
Over and over she calls and calls
" Coo! coo! coo! " to the doves:
The happy doves at Mendon.

" Coo! coo! coo! " says Arne,
Calling the doves at Mendon.

With a rush and a whirr of shining wings,
They hear and obey, — the dainty things!
Dun and purple, and snowy white,
Clouded grey, like the soft twilight,
Straight as an arrow shot from a bow,
Wheeling and circling high and low,
Down they fly from the slanting roof
Of the old red barn at Mendon.

" Coo! coo! coo! " says Arne,
Calling the doves at Mendon!

Baby Alice with wide blue eyes
Watches them ever with new surprise,
While she and Wag on the mat together
Joy in the soft midsummer weather.
Hither and thither she sees them fly,
Grey and white on the azure sky,
Light and shadow against the green
Of the maple grove at Mendon.

" Coo! coo! coo! " says Arne,
Calling the doves at Mendon.

Down they flutter with timid grace,
Lured by the voice and the tender face,
Till the evening air is all astir
With the happy strife and the eager whirr.
One by one, and two by two,
And then a rush through the ether blue,
While Arne scatters the yellow corn
For the gentle doves at Mendon.

" Coo! coo! coo! " says Arne,
Calling the doves at Mendon!

They hop on the porch where the baby sits,
They come and go, as a shadow flits,
Now here, now there, while in and out
They crowd and jostle each other about;
Till one grown bolder than all the rest,
A snow-white dove with an arching breast,
Softly lights on her outstretched hand
Under the vines at Mendon.

" Coo! coo! coo! " says Arne,
Calling the doves at Mendon!

A sound, a motion, a flash of wings:
They are gone, — like a dream of heavenly things
The doves have flown and the porch is still,
And the shadows gather on vale and hill
Then sinks the sun and the tremulous breeze
Stirs in the tremulous maple trees;
While love and peace as the night comes down,
Brood over quiet Mendon!