A perfect day

Bland air and leagues of immemorial blue,

No subtlest hint of whitening rime or cold,

A revel of rich colors, hue on hue,

From radiant crimson to softest shades of gold,

The vagueness in the undulant hill line,

The flutter of a bird's south-soaring wing,

Aeolian harmonies in the pine,

And glad brook laughter like mirth of spring,

A sense of gracious calm afar and near,

And yet a something wanting here,

One fine ray for consummation,

Ah, love, were you but here,

Then were the day indeed a perfect day.