Collected Poems Volume II Part 18

IV

And O, the wild sea-maiden Drifting through the starlit air, With white arms blossom-laden And the sea-scents in her hair: Sometimes we heard her singing The midnight forest through, Or saw a soft hand flinging Blossoms drenched with starry dew Into the dreaming purple cave; And, sometimes, far and far away Beheld across the glooming wave Beyond the dark lagoon, Beyond the silvery foaming bar, The black bright rock whereon she lay Like a honey-coloured star Singing to the breathless moon, Singing in the silent night Till the stars for sheer delight Closed their eyes, and drowsy birds In the midmost forest spray Took their heads from out their wings, Thinking--it is Ariel sings And we must catch the witching words And sing them o'er by day.

V

And then, there came a breath, a breath Cool and strange and dark as death, A stealing shadow, not of the earth But fresh and wonder-wild as birth.

I know not when the hour began That changed the child's heart in the man, Or when the colours began to wane, But all our roseate island lay Stricken, as when an angel dies With wings of rainbow-tinctured grain Withering, and his radiant eyes Closing. Pitiless walls of grey Gathered around us, a growing tomb From which it seemed not death or doom Could roll the stone away.

VI

Yet--I remember-- a gleam, a gleam, (Or ever I dreamed that youth could die!) Of sparkling waves and warm blue sky As out of sleep into a dream, Wonder-wild for the old sweet pain, We sailed into that unknown sea Through the gates of Eternity.

Peacefully close your mortal eyes For ye shall wake to it again In Paradise, in Paradise.

UNITY

I

Heart of my heart, the world is young; Love lies hidden in every rose!

Every song that the skylark sung Once, we thought, must come to a close: Now we know the spirit of song, Song that is merged in the chant of the whole, Hand in hand as we wander along, What should we doubt of the years that roll?

II

Heart of my heart, we cannot die!

Love triumphant in flower and tree, Every life that laughs at the sky Tells us nothing can cease to be: One, we are one with a song to-day, One with the clover that scents the wold, One with the Unknown, far away, One with the stars, when earth grows old.

III

Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind, One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea, One in many, O broken and blind, One as the waves are at one with the sea!

Ay! when life seems scattered apart, Darkens, ends as a tale that is told, One, we are one, O heart of my heart, One, still one, while the world grows old.

THE HILL-FLOWER

_It is my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes_-- So was it sung one golden hour Among the woodbine wreaths; And yet, though wet with living dew, The song seemed far more sweet than true.

Blind creatures of the sun and air I dreamed it but a dream That, like Narcissus, would confer With self in every stream, And to the leaves and boughs impart The tremors of a human heart.

To-day a golden pinion stirred The world's Bethesda pool, And I believed the song I heard Nor put my heart to school; And through the rainbows of the dream I saw the gates of Eden gleam.

The rain had ceased. The great hills rolled In silence to the deep: The gorse in waves of green and gold Perfumed their lonely sleep; And, at my feet, one elfin flower Drooped, blind with glories of the shower.

I stooped--a giant from the sky-- Above its piteous shield, And, suddenly, the dream went by, And there--was heaven revealed!

I stooped to pluck it; but my hand Paused, mid-way, o'er its fairyland.

Not of mine own was that strange voice, "Pluck--tear a star from heaven!"

Mine only was the awful choice To scoff and be forgiven Or hear the very gra.s.s I trod Whispering the gentle thoughts of G.o.d.

I know not if the hill-flower's place Beneath that mighty sky, Its lonely and aspiring grace, Its beauty born to die, Touched me, I know it seemed to be Cherished by all Eternity.

Man, doomed to crush at every stride A hundred lives like this Which by their weakness were allied, If by naught else, to his, Can only for a flash discern What pa.s.sion through the whole doth yearn.

Not into words can I distil The pity or the pain Which hallowing all that lonely hill Cried out "Refrain, refrain,"

Then breathed from earth and sky and sea, "Herein you did it unto Me."

Somewhile that hill was heaven's own breast, The flower its joy and grief, Hugged close and fostered and caressed In every brief bright leaf: And, ere I went thro' sun and dew, I leant and gently touched it, too.

ACTaeON

"Who stood beside the naked Swift-footed And bound his forehead with Proserpine's hair."

--BROWNING (_Pauline_)

I

_Light of beauty, O, "perfect in whiteness,"

Softly suffused thro' the world's dark shrouds, Kindling them all as they pa.s.s by thy brightness,-- Hills, men, cities,--a pageant of clouds, Thou to whom Life and Time surrender All earth's forms as to heaven's deep care, Who shall pierce to thy naked splendour, Bind his brows with thy hair?_

II

Swift thro' the sprays when Spring grew bolder Young Actaeon swept to the chase!

Golden the fawn-skin, back from the shoulder Flowing, set free the limbs' lithe grace, Muscles of satin that rippled like sunny Streams--a hunter, a young athlete, Scattering dews and crushing out honey Under his sandalled feet.

III

Sunset softened the crags of the mountain, Silence melted the hunter's heart, Only the sob of a falling fountain Pulsed in a deep ravine apart: All the forest seemed waiting breathless, Eager to whisper the dying day Some rich word that should utter the deathless Secret of youth and May.

IV

Down, as to May thro' the flowers that attend her, Slowly, on tip-toe, down the ravine Fair as the sun-G.o.d, poising a slender Spear like a moon-shaft silver and green, Stole he! Ah, did the oak-wood ponder Youth's glad dream in its heart of gloom?

Dryad or fawn was it started yonder?