most pro vi guru, CULINA wine they mused, Whispering to each other half in fear, Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea. Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more. Whither away from the high green field, and the happy blossoming shore? Day and night to the billow the fountain calls: Down shower the gambolling waterfalls From wandering over the lea: Out of the live-green heart of the dells They freshen the silvery-crimson shells, And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells High over the full-toned sea: O hither, come hither and furl your sails, Come hither to me and to me: Hither, come hither and frolic and play; Here it is only the mew that wails; For here are the blissful downs and dales, So was their meaning to her words. Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, No sword But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word THE POET'S MIND. 1. VEX not thou the poet's mind For thou canst not fathom it. 2. Dark-brow'd sophist, come not anear; Holy water will I pour Into every spicy flower Of the laurel-shrubs that hedge it around. In your eye there is death, There is frost in your breath Which would blight the plants. Where you stand you cannot hear From the groves within The wild-bird's din. In the heart of the garden the merry bird chants, Like sheet-lightning, Ever brightening With a low melodious thunder; All day and all night it is ever drawn It springs on a level of bowery lawn, And the mountain draws it from Heaven above, vi ཎྞས༑ i༥ wine they musʊd, Whispering to each other half in fear, Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea. Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more. Whither away from the high green field, and the happy blossoming shore? Day and night to the billow the fountain calls: Down shower the gambolling waterfalls From wandering over the lea : Out of the live-green heart of the dells They freshen the silvery-crimson shells, And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells High over the full-toned sea: () hither, come hither and furl your sails, Come hither to me and to me: Hither, come hither and frolic and play; Here it is only the mew that wails; For here are the blissful downs and dales, So was their meaning to her words. Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, No sword But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word THE POET'S MIND. 1. VEX not thou the poet's mind For thou canst not fathom it. 2. Dark-brow'd sophist, come not anear; Holy water will I pour Into every spicy flower Of the laurel-shrubs that hedge it around. There is frost in your breath Which would blight the plants. Where you stand you cannot hear From the groves within The wild-bird's din. In the heart of the garden the merry bird chants, Like sheet-lightning, Ever brightening With a low melodious thunder; All day and all night it is ever drawn It springs on a level of bowery lawn, gundy an wie they musʊd, Whispering to each other half in fear, Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea. Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more. Whither away from the high green field, and the happy blossoming shore ? Day and night to the billow the fountain calls: Down shower the gambolling waterfalls From wandering over the lea: Out of the live-green heart of the dells They freshen the silvery-crimson shells, And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells High over the full-toned sea: O hither, come hither and furl your sails, Come hither to me and to me: Hither, come hither and frolic and play; Here it is only the mew that wails; For here are the blissful downs and dales, 7 |