I will plant larkspur for the hummingbirds,
And sunflowers for the goldfinches. I'll set
A little dish of water carefully
And watch the birds come — orioles like flame
And little juncos with white tailfeathers,
Small, friendly, Quaker birds! That mocking laugh
Is a bright flicker hunting ants. He calls
To bring his mate down. Do you see his moons?
Black crescent on his throat and red behind,
Set well upon the top of his proud head —
A bold, bright bird!

There are so many warblers, I can't tell
One from the other, always, but I know
Green golden gleaming in the cherry bloom!
There's blue throat or a gray cheek sometimes,
And song like the lost pipe that Ganymede
Dropped as he rose. Perhaps a warbler found
That last, low note and caught it as it fell.

I think the singing angel Israfel
Teaches the birds to sing. I know they come
Through rainbows to my garden, for their wings
Are stained with seven colors. Every one
Seeks out some special blossom that he loves.
I've seen an oriole on a blossoming peach,
Gold on the rose inlaid and honey mad!
Draining flower after flower, and there's a wren
Sings all day long above the trumpet vine.

These are my friends. Theirs is my garden grace.
For them I plant larkspur and sunflowers
And set a dish of water in the shade.
I like to think that when my soul is free
It will lift radiant wings and fly to flowers.
I hope I'll find a garden red and white
And gold and amethyst and dusky green,
With a blue, shallow pool, and an old dial
To mark the sunny hours.