Volume I Part 2 (1/2)
Twin-born, albeit their seasons are apart, They bloom together in the thoughtful heart; Fair symbols of the marvels of our state, Mute speakers of the oracles of fate!
For each, fulfilling nature's law, fulfils Itself and its own aspirations pure; Living and dying; letting faith ensure New life when deathless Spring shall touch the hills.
Each perfect in its place; and each content With that perfection which its being meant: Divided not by months that intervene, But linked by all the flowers that bud between.
Forever smiling thro' its season brief, The one in glory and the one in grief: Forever painting to our museful sight, How lowlihead and loveliness unite.
Born from the first blind yearning of the earth To be a mother and give happy birth, Ere yet the northern sun such rapture brings, Lo, from her virgin breast the Snowdrop springs; And ere the snows have melted from the gra.s.s, And not a strip of greensward doth appear, Save the faint prophecy its cheeks declare, Alone, unkissed, unloved, behold it pa.s.s!
While in the ripe enthronement of the year, Whispering the breeze, and wedding the rich air With her so sweet, delicious bridal breath, - Odorous and exquisite beyond compare, And starr'd with dews upon her forehead clear, Fresh-hearted as a Maiden Queen should be Who takes the land's devotion as her fee, - The Wild Rose blooms, all summer for her dower, Nature's most beautiful and perfect flower.
THE DEATH OF WINTER
When April with her wild blue eye Comes dancing over the gra.s.s, And all the crimson buds so shy Peep out to see her pa.s.s; As lightly she loosens her showery locks And flutters her rainy wings; Laughingly stoops To the gla.s.s of the stream, And loosens and loops Her hair by the gleam, While all the young villagers blithe as the flocks Go frolicking round in rings; - Then Winter, he who tamed the fly, Turns on his back and prepares to die, For he cannot live longer under the sky.
Down the valleys glittering green, Down from the hills in snowy rills, He melts between the border sheen And leaps the flowery verges!
He cannot choose but brighten their hues, And tho' he would creep, he fain must leap, For the quick Spring spirit urges.
Down the vale and down the dale He leaps and lights, till his moments fail, Buried in blossoms red and pale, While the sweet birds sing his dirges!
O Winter! I'd live that life of thine, With a frosty brow and an icicle tongue, And never a song my whole life long, - Were such delicious burial mine!
To die and be buried, and so remain A wandering brook in April's train, Fixing my dying eyes for aye On the dawning brows of maiden May.
SONG
The moon is alone in the sky As thou in my soul; The sea takes her image to lie Where the white ripples roll All night in a dream, With the light of her beam, Hushedly, mournfully, mistily up to the sh.o.r.e.
The pebbles speak low In the ebb and the flow, As I when thy voice came at intervals, tuned to adore: Nought other stirred Save my heart all unheard Beating to bliss that is past evermore.
JOHN LACKLAND
A wicked man is bad enough on earth; But O the baleful l.u.s.tre of a chief Once pledged in tyranny! O star of dearth Darkly illumining a nation's grief!
How many men have worn thee on their brows!
Alas for them and us! G.o.d's precious gift Of gracious dispensation got by theft - The d.a.m.ning form of false unholy vows!
The thief of G.o.d and man must have his fee: And thou, John Lackland, despicable prince - Basest of England's banes before or since!
Thrice traitor, coward, thief! O thou shalt be The historic warning, trampled and abhorr'd Who dared to steal and stain the symbols of the Lord!
THE SLEEPING CITY
A Princess in the eastern tale Paced thro' a marble city pale, And saw in ghastly shapes of stone The sculptured life she breathed alone;
Saw, where'er her eye might range, Herself the only child of change; And heard her echoed footfall chime Between Oblivion and Time;