« PreviousContinue »
And vagrant melodies the winds which bore
Then, like the arrow-seeds of the field flower,
Cleaving, took root, and springing forth anew
Like to the mother plant in semblance, grew
And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling
To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring Of Hope and Youth.
So many minds did gird their orbs with beams,
Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many dreams
Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the world
And thro' the wreaths of floating dark upcurl'd,
And Freedom rear'd in that august sunrise
When rites and forms before his burning eyes
There was no blood upon her maiden robes
But round about the circles of the globes
And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame
All evil dreams of power- a sacred name.
Her words did gather thunder as they ran,
The flowers would faint at your cruel cheer.
In your eye there is death,
There is frost in your breath
Which would blight the plants.
Where you stand you cannot hear
The wild-bird's din.
In the heart of the garden the merry bird chants,
It would fall to the ground if you came in.
In the middle leaps a fountain
With a low melodious thunder; All day and all night it is ever drawn From the brain of the purple mountain Which stands in the distance yonder: It springs on a level of bowery lawn, And the mountain draws it from Heaven above, And it sings a song of undying love;
And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full,
You never would hear it; your ears are so dull; So keep where you are: you are foul with sin; It would shrink to the earth if you came in.
SLOW sail'd the weary mariners and saw,
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
Out of the live-green heart of the dells
They freshen the silvery-crimson shells,
High over the full-toned sea:
O hither, come hither and furl your sails,
And the spangle dances in bight and bay,
And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand;
Hither, come hither and see;
And the rainbow hangs on the poising wave,
And sweet shall your welcome be:
O hither, come hither, and be our lords,
For merry brides are we :
We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words:
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten
With pleasure and love and jubilee:
When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords
Who can light on as happy a shore
All the world o'er, all the world o'er?
Whither away? listen and stay: mariner, mariner, fly no
THE DESERTED HOUSE.
LIFE and Thought have gone away
Leaving door and windows wide:
All within is dark as night:
Close the door, the shutters close,
Or thro' the windows we shall see
Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
Come away for Life and Thought
But in a city glorious
A great and distant city
Would they could have stayed with us!
THE DYING SWAN.
THE plain was grassy, wild, and bare,
An under-roof of doleful gray.
And loudly did lament.
It was the middle of the day. Ever the weary wind went on,
And took the reed-tops as it went.
Some blue peaks in the distance rose,
One willow over the river wept,
Chasing itself at its own wild will,
And far thro' the marish green and still
Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.
The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold,
And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'