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II.
O fontal wealth of hasting life, By stressful toil made sweet, Stay now thy journey--here oft come Wild sylvan things, Here tender lovers meet.
{107}
By day the traveller spies the path To thy o'erbending shade, Drinks deep the br.i.m.m.i.n.g, cooling wave, A living draught, And wends his way, remade.
At night the one shy Pleiad drops Her veil to look within Thy clear, green-haloed deeps, and sees Herself more fair Than all her s.h.i.+ning kin.
And, fair with labor's healthy toil, Each face of yon dear home Thou'st set within the pearly blue, Or crocus glow, Of overarching dome.
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And when return world-wandering feet, Elate, or slow with sorrow, Thy pencil paints the changing form; And here clasp hands The yester year and morrow.
O bright reincarnation, thou!
Though long thy heart, like fire, Burned to mount upward and away To sun and sky, A dream and a desire,
Here, here thy place and service too,-- 'Tis heaven by thee to sup, To see the great red sun drop down, The stars swim out,-- O Nature's loving cup!
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III.
And here the crystal spring abides-- Yet pa.s.ses to the sea, There to renew the broken task Of long ago, Now joyous task and free.
Fair spirit of the bourneless waves, Glad voice in their sad choir, Sweeter 'mid sorrow's dirge to blend The note of cheer, Than list Apollo's lyre!
The sunbeams kiss the plaining deep, Wreathe with innumerous smiles The sounding waters as they meet,-- While sister sprites Wake laughter round the isles.
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And ever as the rolling moon The unanch.o.r.ed sea forth-swings, The poet's ear may catch anew The gladsome notes, Notes of the crystal springs.
And when he sits this spring beside, Worn with the journey's strife, He cannot help but think of HIM Of Jacob's well, FOUNT of the deathless life.
{111}
AY ME!
Silent, with hands crost meekly on his breast, Long time, with keen and meditative eye, Stood the old painter of Siena by A canvas, whose sign manual him confest.
His head droopt low, his eye ceased from its quest, As tears filled full the fountains long since dry; And from his lips there broke the haunting cry: "May G.o.d forgive me--I did not my best!"
{112}
THE YEARS.
"Time in advance behind him hides his wings."--YOUNG.
As comes amain the glossy flying raven, That with unwavering wing, breast on the view, Cleaves slow the lucid air beneath the blue, And seems scarce other than a figure graven-- Ha! now the sweeping pinions flash as levin, And all their silken cordage whistles loud!-- Lo, the departing flight, like fleck of cloud, Is swallowed quick by the awaiting heaven!
{113}
So lag and tarry, to the youth, the years In their oncoming from the brooding sky, Till bursts at middle life their rus.h.i.+ng speed All breathless with the world of hopes and fears; And, lo, departing, the Eternal Eye Winks them to moments in His endless brede!
{114}
THE NOTE OF NATURE.
Earth's manifold noises break Overhead, in the calm, In unison full, and wake The note of a psalm.
On the sunny hills, in the vales, It falls on my ear; Down the baffling winds it sails, In the night draweth near.
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It sounds like great mountains to me, A deep monotone-- Like the veiled AEonian sea, That girdles Time's zone.
The sun and the stars and the moon Keep time with this note, The evening and morning and noon, Things near and remote.
The tides ebb and flow to its beat, 'Tis the seasons' rhyme,-- The harebell and twin-flower sweet Its undertone chime.
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The night-moth stirs to the reed, And the beetle booms; The bird and the beast are keyed To the flower that blooms.
And man to his high service goes Aswing to his goal, Like the tides and the stars and the rose,-- Tone, overtone, whole!
I hear it by day and by night, In storm and in calm,-- A low swelling note from a height, With the roll of a psalm.
{117}
AT THE FORD.
