The Triumph Of Music Part 15

Lost in the life thus given We well might bid farewell.

To leap against thy bosoms!

Live at thy ardent throat!

Kiss clinging to its blossoms, Die kissing and not know't!

Wound in tumultuous tresses Pulse like a naked hair, Held in long hands for kisses, And killed and never care.

Clasped limb and marble member, Long raven hair with gold, To dream, forget, remember, Grow slowly still and cold.

Feel earth and h.e.l.l forever Remote from thee and me, Nor strong enough to sever Through all eternity.

Feel G.o.dlike power for evil High throned within the heart, Should G.o.d and h.e.l.l's arch devil Cast dice our souls to part: Part eyes hot as a jewel, Part covering deeps of curl, Sweet lips as sweet as cruel, And limbs of living pearl.

What if in the hereafter Our love must weep farewell 'Mid the hoa.r.s.e, strident laughter Of devils deep in h.e.l.l; We'll know that all infernal, All cactus-growth of time, Slays not that hour eternal That sinned with love to crime.

Love, we could live all tearless, Remember and have breath, Of h.e.l.l and heaven fearless In love more strong than death.

When hope shall be forgotten And death be one with both, Flesh, soul, and spirit rotten And wrapped with clay in sloth.

Take comfort, love, remember Love chastened with his rod, And member torn from member Would leave him still a G.o.d.

Though soul from soul be riven, G.o.d knows we shall regret!

In h.e.l.l or highest heaven We never can forget!

MIRIAM.

White clouds and buds and birds and bees, Low wind-notes piped from southern seas, Brought thee a rose-white offering, A flower-like baby with the Spring.

She, as her April, gave to thee A soul of winsome vagary; Large, heavenly eyes, and tender, whence Shone the sweet mind's soft influence; Where all the winning woman, that Welled up in tears, high sparkling sat.

She, with the dower of her May, Gave thee a nature that could sway Wild men with kindness, and a pride Which all their littleness denied.

Limbs wrought of lilies and a face Bright as a rose flower's, and a grace, G.o.d-taught, that clings like happiness In each chaste billow of thy dress.

She, as her heavy June, brought down Night deeps of hair thy brow to crown; A voice so mild and musical It is as water-notes that fall O'er bars of pearl, and in thy heart Stamped like a jewel, that should start From thy pure face in smiles, and break Like radiance when it laughed or spake, Affection that is born of truth And goodness which make very youth.

THE WIND.

The ways of the wind are eerie And I love them all, The blithe, the mad, and the dreary, Spring, Winter, and Fall.

When it tells to the waiting crocus Its beak to show, And hangs on the wayside locust Bloom-bunches of snow.

When it comes like a balmy blessing From the musky wood, The half-grown roses caressing Till their cheeks show blood.

When it roars in the Autumn season, And whines with rain Or sleet like a mind without reason, Or a soul in pain.

When the wood-ways once so spicy With bud and bloom Are desolate, sear, and icy As the icy tomb.

When the wild owl crouched and frowsy In the rotten tree Wails dolorous, cold, and drowsy, His shuddering melody.

Then I love to sit in December Where the big hearth sings, And dreaming forget and remember A host of things.

And the wind--I hear how it strangles And gasps and sighs On the roof's sharp, shivering angles That front the skies.

How it groans and romps and tumbles In attics o'erhead, In the great-throated chimney rumbles, Then all at once falls dead;

Till it comes like footsteps slipping Of a child on the stair, Or a quaint old gentleman tripping With heavily powdered hair.

And my soul grows anxious hearted For those once dear-- The long-lost loves departed In the wind draw near.

And I seem to see their faces, Not one estranged, In their old accustomed places 'Round the wide hearth ranged.

And the wind that waits and poises Where the shadows sway Makes their visionary voices Seem calling me far away.

And I wake in tears to listen Again to the sobbing wind, Far out on the lands that glisten, Like the voice of one who sinned.

MUSIC.

[A NOCTURNE.]

The soul of love is harmony; as such All melodies, that with wide pinions beat Elastic bars, which mew it in the flesh, Till 'twould away to kiss their throats and cling, Are kindred to the soul, and while they sway, Lords of its action molding all at will.

Ah! neither was I I, nor knew the clay, For all my soul lay on full waves of song Reverberating 'twixt the earth and moon.

O soft complaints, that haunted all the heart With dreams of love long cherished, love dreams found On sunset mountains gorgeous toward the West: Kisses--soft kisses bartered 'mid pale buds Of bursting Springs; and vows of fondest faith Kept evermore; and eyes whose witchery Might lure old saints down to the lowest h.e.l.l For one swift glance,--sweet, melancholy eyes Yet full of hope and dimming o'er with tears, Stooping and gloating in a silver mist At Care's thin brow, and growing at his eyes.

Voices of expectation rolling on To diapason of a mighty choir, 'Mid ever-swooning throbbings beating low, Wove in hoa.r.s.e fabric thunders--and O soul!

Wafted to caverns lost by hideous seas, One with the tumult 'neath o'ercircling tiers White with strange diamond spars and feathery gems.

O holy music, wailing down long aisles To lose thyself 'neath arched welkins dashed With moons of crystal;--dying, dying down To pa.s.sionate sobs, and then a silence vast, Vast as thy caves, or as the human soul, Oppressing all this being bulked in flesh Until it strained to burst its bounds and soar.

Harp-tones! that shaped before the poised mind The home of Sleep far on a moonlit isle.

White Sleep, who from heaped myriad poppies weighed With baby slumbers, and from violet beds, Culled whiter dreams to fold against her heart In dewy cl.u.s.ters sparkling wet with tears; And on her shadowy pinions soaring high Winged 'neath the vault into oblivion, With all the echoes panting at pale feet To kiss the dreams, and o'er deep, wine-dark waves, Far, far away, lost--and a sound of stars Streaming from burning sockets into night About my soul, about my soul like fire.

Oh, then what agony and bitter woe, Regret and noise of desolation vast As when all that one loves is torn away Forever with "farewell forevermore!"

Oh, strife and panic and the rush of winds, Moist ashen brows with raven tresses torn That plunged against the bursting bolts of G.o.d, That ploughed the tempest curst with deepest night; Ruin and heartache, moans and demon eyes, Fierce, b.e.s.t.i.a.l eyes that cursed at very G.o.d; Then blinding tears that wept for such and prayed, Tears blistering all the soul in haunting eyes, Eyes such as Death would fear to ponder on!

Then dolorous bell-beats, battle as for light, Folds of oblivion, gaspings, silence, death.

TO ----.