Poems Part 13

I'll do so now.

On this delicious eve, with words like colours, I'll limn them on the canva.s.s of your sense.

VIOLET.

Be quick! be quick! for see, the parting sun But peers above yon range of crimson hills, Taking his last look of this lovely scene.

Dusk will be here anon.

WALTER.

And all the stars!

VIOLET.

Great friends of yours; you love them overmuch.

WALTER.

I love the stars too much! The tameless sea Spreads itself out beneath them, smooth as gla.s.s.

You cannot love them, lady, till you dwell In mighty towns; immured in their black hearts, The stars are nearer to you than the fields.

I'd grow an Atheist in these towns of trade, Were 't not for stars. The smoke puts heaven out; I meet sin-bloated faces in the streets, And shrink as from a blow. I hear wild oaths, And curses spilt from lips that once were sweet, And sealed for Heaven by a mother's kiss.

I mix with men whose hearts of human flesh, Beneath the petrifying touch of gold, Have grown as stony as the trodden ways.

I see no trace of G.o.d, till in the night, While the vast city lies in dreams of gain, He doth reveal himself to me in heaven.

My heart swells to Him as the sea to the moon; Therefore it is I love the midnight stars.

VIOLET.

I would I had a lover who could give Such ample reasons for his loving me, As you for loving stars! But to your task.

WALTER.

Wilt listen to the pictures of my life?

VIOLET.

Patient as evening to the nightingale!

WALTER.

'Mong the green lanes of Kent--green sunny lanes-- Where troops of children shout, and laugh, and play, And gather daisies, stood an antique home, Within its orchard, rich with ruddy fruits, For the full year was laughing in his prime.

Wealth of all flowers grew in that garden green, And the old porch with its great oaken door Was smothered in rose-blooms, while o'er the walls The honeysuckle clung deliriously.

Before the door there lay a plot of gra.s.s, Snowed o'er with daisies,--flower by all beloved, And famousest in song--and in the midst, A carved fountain stood, dried up and broken, On which a peac.o.c.k perched and sunned itself; Beneath, two petted rabbits, snowy white, Squatted upon the sward.

A row of poplars darkly rose behind, Around whose tops, and the old-fashioned vanes, White pigeons fluttered, and o'er all was bent The mighty sky, with sailing sunny clouds.

One cas.e.m.e.nt was thrown open, and within, A boy hung o'er a book of poesy, Silent as planet hanging o'er the sea.

In at the cas.e.m.e.nt open to the noon Came sweetest garden-odours, and the hum-- The drowsy hum--of the rejoicing bees, Heavened in blooms that overclad the walls; And the cool wind waved in upon his brow, And stirred his curls. Soft fell the summer night.

Then he arose, and with inspired lips said,-- "Stars! ye are golden-voiced clarions To high-aspiring and heroic dooms.

To-night, as I look up unto ye, Stars!

I feel my soul rise to its destiny, Like a strong eagle to its eyrie soaring.

Who thinks of weakness underneath ye, Stars?

A hum shall be on earth, a name be heard, An epitaph shall look up proud to G.o.d.

Stars! read and listen, it may not be long."

VIOLET (_leaning over him_).

I'll see that grand desire within your eyes-- Oh, I only see myself!

WALTER.

Violet!

Could you look through my heart as through mine eyes, You'd find yourself there, too.

VIOLET.

Hush, flatterer!

Yet go on with your tale.

WALTER.

Three blue days pa.s.sed, Full of the sun, loud with a thousand larks; An evening like a grey child walked 'tween each.

'Twas in the quiet of the fourth day's noon, The boy I speak of slumbered in the wood.

Like a dropt rose at an oak-root he lay, A lady bent above him. He awoke; She blushed like sunset, 'mid embarra.s.sed speech; A shock of laughter made them friends at once, And laughter fluttered through their after-talk, As darts a bright bird in and out the leaves.

All day he drank her splendid light of eyes; Nor did they part until the deepening east Gan to be sprinkled with the lights of eve.

VIOLET.

Go on! go on!

WALTER.

June sang herself to death.

They parted in the wood, she very pale, And he walked home the weariest thing on earth.

That night he sat in his unlighted room, Pale, sad, and solitary, sick at heart, For he had parted with his dearest friends, High aspirations, bright dreams golden-winged, Troops of fine fancies that like lambs did play Amid the sunshine and the virgin dews, Thick-lying in the green fields of his heart.

Calm thoughts that dwelt like hermits in his soul, Fair shapes that slept in fancifullest bowers, Hopes and delights,--He parted with them all.

Linked hand in hand they went, tears in their eyes, As faint and beautiful as eyes of flowers, And now he sat alone with empty soul.

Last night his soul was like a forest, haunted With pagan shapes; when one nymph slumbering lay, A sweet dream 'neath her eyelids, her white limbs Sinking full softly in the violets dim; When timbrelled troops rushed past with branches green.

One in each fountain, riched with golden sands, With her delicious face a moment seen, And limbs faint-gleaming through their watery veil.

To-night his soul was like that forest old, When these were reft away, and the wild wind Running like one distract 'mong their old haunts, Gold-sanded fountains, and the bladed flags.

[_A pause._ It is enough to shake one into tears.

A palace full of music was his heart, An earthquake rent it open to the rain; The lovely music died--the bright throngs fled-- Despair came like a foul and grizzly beast, And littered in its consecrated rooms.

Nature was leaping like a Baccha.n.a.l On the next morn, beneath its sky-wide sheen The boy stood pallid in the rosy porch.

The mad larks bathing in the golden light, The flowers close-fondled by the impa.s.sioned winds, The smells that came and went upon the sense, Like faint waves on a sh.o.r.e, he heeded not; He could not look the morning in the eyes.

That singing morn he went forth like a ship; Long years have pa.s.sed, and he has not returned, Beggared or laden, home.

VIOLET.

Ah, me, 'tis sad!

And sorrow's hand as well as mine has been Among these golden curls. 'Tis past, 'tis past; It has dissolved, as did the bank of cloud That lay in the west last night.