The Ride to the Lady, and Other Poems Part 6

"I went down to tease the brook, With her fishes, there below; She comes dancing, thou must know, And the bushes arch above her; But the seeking sunbeams look, Dodging through the wind-blown cover, Find and kiss her into stars.

Silvery veins entwine and crook Where a stone her tripping bars; There be smooth, clear sweeps, and swirls Bubbling up crisp drops like pearls.

There I lie, along the rocks Thick with greenest slippery moss, And I have in hand a strip Of gray, pliant, dappled bark; And I comb her liquid locks Till her tangling currents cross; And I have delight to hark To the chiding of her lip, Taking on the talking stone With each turn another tone.

Oh, to set her wavelets bickering!

Oh, to hear her laughter simple, See her fret and flash and dimple!

Ha, ha, ha!" The woodland rang With the rippling through the flickering.

At the birch the herd-boy sprang.

On a sudden something wound Vine-like round his throbbing throat; On a sudden something smote Sharply on his longing lips, Stung him as the birch bough whips: Was it kiss or was it blow?

Never after could he know; She was gone without a sound.

Never after could he see In the wood or in the mead, Or in any company Of the rustic mortal maids, Her with acorn-colored braids; Never came she to his need.

Never more the lad was merry, Strayed apart, and learned to dream, Feeding on the tart wild berry; Murmuring words none understood,-- Words with music of the wood, And with music of the stream.

SUMMER HOURS

Hours aimless-drifting as the milkweed's down In seeming, still a seed of joy ye bear That steals into the soul when unaware, And springs up Memory in the stony town.

LOVE UNSUNG

Seven jewelled rays has the Sun fast bound In his arrow of blinding sheen; But he quickens the breast of the fruitful ground With a subtlest ray unseen.

And the rainbow moods of this love of ours I may blend in the song I bring; But the magic that makes life laugh with flowers Is the love that I cannot sing.

THE WISH FOR A CHAPLET

Vineleaf and rose I would my chaplet make: I would my word were wine for all men's sake.

Pure from the pressing of the stainless feet Of unblamed Hours, and for an altar meet.

Vineleaf and rose: I would, had I the art, Distil, to lasting sweet, Joy's rosy heart, That no sere autumn should its fragrance wrong, Closed in the crystal gla.s.s of slender song.

SONNETS

THE TORCH-RACE

Brave racer, who hast sped the living light With throat outstretched and every nerve a-strain, Now on thy left hand labors gray-faced Pain, And Death hangs close behind thee on the right.

Soon flag the flying feet, soon fails the sight, With every pulse the gaunt pursuers gain; And all thy splendor of strong life must wane And set into the mystery of night.

Yet fear not, though in falling, blindness hide Whose hand shall s.n.a.t.c.h, before it scars the sod, The light thy lessening grasp no more controls: Truth's rescuer, Truth shall instantly provide: This is the torch-race game, that n.o.blest souls Play on through time beneath the eyes of G.o.d.

TO SLEEP

All slumb'rous images that be, combined, To this white couch and cool shall woo thee, Sleep!

First will I think on fields of gra.s.ses deep In gray-green flower, o'er which the transient wind Runs like a smile; and next will call to mind How glistening poplar-tops, when breezes creep Among their leaves, a tender motion keep, Stroking the sky, like touch of lovers kind.

Ah, having felt thy calm kiss on mine eyes, All night inspiring thy divine pure breath, I shall awake as into G.o.dhood born, And with a fresh, undaunted soul arise, Clear as the blue convolvulus at morn.

--Dear bedfellow, deals thus thy brother, Death?

SISTER SNOW

Praised be our Lord (to echo the sweet phrase Of saintly Francis) for our sister Snow: Whose soft, soft coming never man may know By any sound; whose down-light touch allays All fevers of worn earth. She clothes the days In garments without spot, and hence doth go Her noiseless shuttle swiftly to and fro, And very pure, and pleasant, are her ways.

But yesterday, how loveless looked the skies!

How cold the sun's last glance, and unbenign, Across the field forsaken, russet-leaved!

Now pearly peace on all the landscape lies.

--Wast thou not sent us, Sister, for a sign Of that vast Mercy of G.o.d, else unconceived?

RETROSPECT

"Backward," he said, "dear heart I like to look To those half-spring, half-winter days, when first We drew together, ere the leaf-buds burst.

Sunbeams were silver yet, keen gusts yet shook The boughs. Have you remembered that kind book, That for our sake Galeotto's part rehea.r.s.ed, (The friend of lovers,--this time blessed, not cursed!) And that best hour, when reading we forsook?"

She, listening, wore the smile a mother wears At childish fancies needless to control; Yet felt a fine, hid pain with pleasure blend.

Better it seemed to think that love of theirs, Native as breath, eternal as the soul, Knew no beginning, could not have an end.

THE CONTRAST