Poems and Songs Part 6

... Oceanward I am ever yearning, Where far it rolls in its calm and grandeur, The weight of mountain-like fogbanks bearing, Forever wandering and returning.

The skies may lower, the land may call it, It knows no resting and knows no yielding.

In nights of summer, in storms of winter, Its surges murmur the self-same longing.

Yes, oceanward I am ever yearning, Where far is lifted its broad, cold forehead!

Thereon the world throws its deepest shadow And mirrors whispering all its anguish.

Though warm and blithesome the bright sun stroke it With joyous message, that life is gladness, Yet ice-cold, changelessly melancholy, It drowns the sorrow and drowns the solace.

The full moon pulling, the tempest lifting, Must loose their hold on the flowing water.

Down whirling lowlands and crumbling mountains It to eternity tireless washes.

What forth it draws must the one way wander.

What once is sunken arises never.

No message comes thence, no cry is heard thence; Its voice, its silence, can none interpret.

Yes, toward the ocean, far out toward ocean, That knows no hour of self-atonement!

For all that suffer release it offers, But trails forever its own enigma.

A strange alliance with Death unites it, That _all_ it give Him,--itself excepting!

I feel, vast Ocean, thy solemn sadness, To thee abandon my weak devices, To thee let fly all my anxious longings: May thy cool breath to my heart bring healing!

Let Death now follow, his booty seeking: The moves are many before the checkmate!

Awhile I'll hara.s.s thy love of plunder, As on I scud 'neath thy angry eyebrows; Thou only fillest my swelling mainsail, Though Death ride fast on thy howling tempest; Thy billows raging shall bear the faster My little vessel to quiet waters.

Ah! Thus alone at the helm in darkness, By all forsaken, by Death forgotten, When sails unknown far away are wafted And some swift-coursing by night are pa.s.sing, To note the ground-swell's resistless current, The sighing heart of the breathing ocean -- Or small waves plas.h.i.+ng along the planking, Its quiet pastime amid its sadness.

Then glide my lingering longings over Into the ocean-deep grief of nature, The night's, the water's united coldness Prepares my spirit for death's dark dwelling.

Then comes day's dawning! My soul bounds upward On beams of light to the vault of heaven; My s.h.i.+p-steed sniffing its flank is laving With buoyant zest in the cooling billow.

With song the sailor to masthead clambers To clear the sail that shall swell more freely, And thoughts are flying like birds aweary Round mast and yard-arm, but find no refuge. ...

Yes, toward the ocean! To follow Vikar!

To sail like him and to sink as he did, For great King Olaf the prow defending!

With keel unswerving the cold thought cleaving, But hope deriving from lightest breezes!

Death's eager fingers so near the rudder, While heaven's clearness the way illumines!

And then at last in the final hour To feel the bolts and the nails are yielding And Death is pressing the seams asunder, That in may stream the absolving water!

Wet winding-sheets shall be folded round me, And I descend to eternal silence, While rolling billows my name bear sh.o.r.eward In s.p.a.cious nights 'neath the cloudless moonlight!

ALONE AND REPENTANT (TO A FRIEND SINCE DECEASED) (See Note 9)

A friend I possess, whose whispers just said, "G.o.d's peace!" to my night-watching mind.

When daylight is gone and darkness brings dread, He ever the way can find.

He utters no word to smite and to score; He, too, has known sin and its grief.

He heals with his look the place that is sore, And stays till I have relief.

He takes for his own the deed that is such That sorrows of heart increase.

He cleanses the wound with so gentle a touch, The pain must give way to peace.

He followed each hope the heights that would scale Reproached not a hapless descent.

He stands here just now, so mild, but so pale; -- In time he shall know what it meant.

THE PRINCESS

The princess looked down from her bower high, The youth blew his horn as he lingered thereby.

"Be quiet, O youth, will forever you blow?

It hinders my thoughts, that would far away go, Now, when sets the sun."

The princess looked down from her bower high, The youth ceased his blowing, his horn he laid by.

"Why are you so quiet? Now more shall you blow, It lifts all my thoughts, that would far away go, Now, when sets the sun."

The princess looked down from her bower high, The youth blew again, as he lingered thereby.

Then weeping, she whispered: "O G.o.d, let me know The name of this sorrow that burdens me so! -- Now has set the sun."

FROM MONTE PINCIO

Evening is coming, the sun waxes red, Radiant colors from heaven are beaming Life's l.u.s.trous longings in infinite streaming;-- Glory in death o'er the mountains is spread.

Cupolas burn, but the fog in far ma.s.ses Over the bluish-black fields softly pa.s.ses, Rolling as whilom oblivion pale; Hid is yon valley 'neath thousand years' veil.

Evening so red and warm Glows as the people swarm, Notes of the cornet flare, Flowers and brown eyes fair.

Great men of old stand in marble erected, Waiting, scarce known and neglected.

Vespers are ringing, through roseate air Nebulous floating of tone-sacrifices, Twilight in churches now broadens and rises, Incense and word fill the evening with prayer.

Over the Sabines the flame-belt is knotted, Shepherds' lights through the Campagna are dotted, Rome with her lamps dimly breaks on the sight,-- Shadowy legend from history's night.

But to the evening's spell Dances the Saltarell';-- Fireworks flash and play, Mora and laughter gay;-- Colors and tones in all thoughts are enthroning Harmony's gracious condoning.

Lost has the light in its soundless affray, Heaven its vaulting of dark-blue is framing, Where from infinity deep stars are flaming, Earth's ma.s.ses sink into vapor away.

Fleeing the darkness, the eyes seek the city, Meet with its torches a corpse borne in pity; These seek the night, but a flag is each light, Waving the hope of eternity bright.

Gaily to dance and wine Mandolins give the sign.

Monkish song, noise of streets, Drowned by a drum's stern beats;-- Through all the dreaming life's arteries flowing, Glimpses of daylight are going.

Silence o'er all, and the darker blue sky Watches serenely expectant, 'mid cheering Dreams of the past and the future that's nearing:-- Fluctuant gleams in the gray that is nigh.

But they will gather, and Rome be resurgent, Day-dawn from Italy's midnight emergent: Cannon shall sound and the bells ring the new, Mem'ries illumine the future's bright blue!-- Greeting a bridal pair Charming in hope so rare, Voices bring soft salute, Music of harp and flute.

Mightier yearnings sweet sleep is beguiling;-- Lesser dare waken to smiling.

IF ONLY YOU KNEW IT

I dare never speak up to you, For you to look down would not do, But always you are there each day, And always I wander this way.

Our thoughts go by stealth to make search and renew it, But neither dares question nor give answer due it; If only you knew it!

When constantly I could be found, You often in pride on me frowned; But now that I rarely appear, I see that you wait for me here!

Two eyes, oh, two eyes made a snare and then drew it, And who would escape must beware, and eschew it!

If only you knew it!

Yes, if you but guessed, this might be A poem for you made by me, Whose billowy lines just now fly Up where you stand graceful and high!