Part 9 (2/2)

ECHOES

Aqui este encerrada el alma del licenciado Pedro Garcias Gil Blas AU LECTEUR

I--TO MY MOTHER

Chiming a dream by the way With ocean's rapture and roar, I met a maiden to-day Walking alone on the sh.o.r.e: Walking in maiden wise, Modest and kind and fair, The freshness of spring in her eyes And the fulness of spring in her hair.

Cloud-shadow and scudding sun-burst Were swift on the floor of the sea, And a mad wind was romping its worst, But what was their magic to me?

Or the charm of the midsummer skies?

I only saw she was there, A dream of the sea in her eyes And the kiss of the sea in her hair.

I watched her vanish in s.p.a.ce; She came where I walked no more; But something had pa.s.sed of her grace To the spell of the wave and the sh.o.r.e; And now, as the glad stars rise, She comes to me, rosy and rare, The delight of the wind in her eyes And the hand of the wind in her hair.

1872

II

Life is bitter. All the faces of the years, Young and old, are grey with travail and with tears.

Must we only wake to toil, to tire, to weep?

In the sun, among the leaves, upon the flowers, Slumber stills to dreamy death the heavy hours . . .

Let me sleep.

Riches won but mock the old, unable years; Fame's a pearl that hides beneath a sea of tears; Love must wither, or must live alone and weep.

In the suns.h.i.+ne, through the leaves, across the flowers, While we slumber, death approaches though the hours! . . .

Let me sleep.

1872

III

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