3 The Magnolia Tree

Forth from earth's opened side
The slow, slow fountain plays,
Its twisted streams of wood
Flowing to the measure of a giant time
To statelier music than our lives may know.

And on their currents' crest
Green leaves, white petals foam
Through whose fragility
The rapid pulse of spring
Beats with a fairer and more fatal stroke
Than, in our veins, its keenest rage achieved.