Silkweed

Lighter than dandelion down,   Or feathers from the white moth’s wing, Out of the gates of bramble-town   The silkweed goes a-gypsying. Too fair to fly in autumn’s rout,   All winter in the sheath it lay; But now, when spring is pushing out,   The zephyr calls, “Away! away!” Through mullein, bramble, brake, and fern,   Up from their cradle-spring they fly, Beyond the boundary wall to turn   And voyage through the friendly sky. Softly, as if instinct with thought,   They float and drift, delay and turn; And one avoids and one is caught   Between an oak-leaf and a fern. And one holds by an airy line   The spider drew from tree to tree; And if the web is light and fine,   ’T is not so light and fine as he! And one goes questing up the wall   As if to find a door; and then, As if he did not care at all,   Goes over, and adown the glen. And all in airiest fashion fare   Adventuring, as if, indeed, ’T were not so grave a thing to bear   The burden of a seed!