Love Letters of a Violinist and Other Poems Part 9

There have been moments, at the set of sun, When I have long'd for wings upon the wind, That I might seek a planet to my mind, More full-develop'd than this present one; With more of scope, when all is said and done, To satisfy the wants of human kind.

XVII.

A world with thee, a home in some remote And unknown region, which no sage's ken Has compa.s.s'd yet; of which no human pen Has traced the limits; where no terrors float In wind or wave, and where the soul may note A thousand raptures unreveal'd to men.

XVIII.

To be transported in a magic car, On some transcendent night in early June, Beyond the horn'd projections of the moon; To have our being in a bridal star, In lands of light, where only angels are, Athwart the s.p.a.ces where the comets swoon.

XIX.

To be all this: to have in our estate Worlds without stint, and quit them for the clay Of some new planet where a summer's day Lasts fifty years; and there to celebrate Our Golden Wedding, by the will of Fate-- This were a subject for a seraph's lay.

XX.

This were a life to live,--a life indeed,-- A thing to die for; if, in truth, we die When we but put our mortal vestments by.

This were a climax for a lover's need Sweeter than songs, and holier than the creed Of half the zealots who have sought the sky.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Letter VIII A VISION]

LETTER VIII.

A VISION.

I.

Yes, I will tell thee what, a week ago, I dreamt of thee, and all the joy therein Which I conceiv'd, and all the holy din Of throbbing music, which appear'd to flow From room to room, as if to make me know The power thereof to lead me out of sin.

II.

Methought I saw thee in a ray of light, This side a grove--a dream within a dream-- With eyes of tender pleading, and the gleam Of far-off summers in thy tresses bright; And I did tremble at the gracious sight, As one who sees a naad in a stream.

III.

I follow'd thee. I knew that, in the wood, Where thus we met, there was a trysting-place.

I follow'd thee, as mortals in a chase Follow the deer. I knew that it was good To track thy step, and promptly understood The fitful blush that flutter'd to thy face.

IV.

I followed thee to where a brook did run Close to a grot; and there I knelt to thee.

And then a score of birds flew over me,-- Birds which arrived because the day was done, To sing the Sanctus of the setting sun; And then I heard thy voice upon the lea.

V.

"Follow!" it cried. I rose and follow'd fast; And, in my dream, I felt the dream was true, And that, full soon, t.i.tania, with her crew Of imps and fays, would meet me on the blast.

But this was hindered; and I quickly pa.s.sed Into the valley where the cedars grew.

VI.

And what a scene, O G.o.d! and what repose, And what sad splendour in the burning west: A languid sun low-dropping to his rest, And incense rising, as of old it rose, To do him honour at the daylight's close,-- The birds entranced, and all the winds repress'd.

VII.

I followed thee. I came to where a shrine Stood in the trees, and where an oaken gate Swung in the air, so turbulent of late.

I touch'd thy hand; it quiver'd into mine; And then I look'd into thy face benign, And saw the smile for which the angels wait.

VIII.

And lo! the moon had sailed into the main Of that blue sky, as if therein did poise A silver boat; and then a tuneful noise Broke from the copse where late a breeze was slain; And nightingales, in ecstasy of pain, Did break their hearts with singing the old joys.

IX.

"Is this the spot?" I cried, "is this the spot Where I must tell thee all my heart's desire?

Is this the time when I must drink the fire, And eat the snow, and find it fever-hot?

I freeze with heat, and yet I fear it not; And all my pulses thrill me like a lyre."

X.

A wondrous light was thrown upon thy face; It was the light within; it was the ray Of thine own soul. And then a voice did say, "Glory to G.o.d the King, and Jesu's grace Here and hereafter!" and about the place A radiance shone surpa.s.sing that of day.

XI.

It was thy voice. It was the voice I prize More than the sound of April in the dales, More than the songs of larks and nightingales, And more than the teachings of the worldly-wise.

"Glory to G.o.d," it said, "for in the skies, And here on earth, 'tis He alone prevails."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

XII.

And then I asked thee: "Shall I tell thee now All that I think of, when, by land and sea, The days and nights illume the world for me?