Thou laughest at the mill, the whir and worry Of spindle and of loom, O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet. PALINGENESIS. I LAY upon the headland-height, and listened And the great wheel that toils amid the To the incessant sobbing of the sea hurry And rushing of the flume. In caverns under me, And watched the waves, that tossed and fled and glistened, Born in the purple, born to joy and Until the rolling meadows of amethyst pleasance, Thou dost not toil nor spin, Melted away in mist. But makest glad and radiant with thy Then suddenly, as one from sleep, I presence The meadow and the lin. The wind blows, and uplifts thy drooping banner, And round thee throng and run The rushes, the green yeomen of thy manor, The outlaws of the sun. started; The burnished dragon-fly is thine at- A moment only, and the light and glory tendant, And tilts against the field, Faded away, and the disconsolate shore Stood lonely as before; And down the listed sunbeam rides re- And the wild-roses of the promontory Can from the ashes in our hearts once I do not know; nor will I vainly ques more The rose of youth restore? What craft of alchemy can bid defiance To time and change, and for a single hour Renew this phantom-flower? "O, give me back," I cried, "the vanished splendors, The breath of morn, and the exultant strife, When the swift stream of life Bounds o'er its rocky channel, and surrenders The pond, with all its lilies, for the leap Into the unknown deep!" And the sea answered, with a lamentation, Like some old prophet wailing, and it said, "Alas! thy youth is dead! It breathes no more, its heart has no pulsation; In the dark places with the dead of old It lies forever cold!" Then said I, "From its consecrated cerements I will not drag this sacred dust again, But, still remembering all the lost endearments, Go on my way, like one who looks before, And turns to weep no more." Into what land of harvests, what plantations Bright with autumnal foliage and the glow Of sunsets burning low; Beneath what midnight skies, whose constellations Light up the spacious avenues between This world and the unseen! Amid what friendly greetings and ca resses, What households, though not alien, yet not mine, What bowers of rest divine; To what temptations in lone wildernesses, What famine of the heart, what pain and loss, The bearing of what cross! tion BURN, O evening hearth, and waken Ah, no longer wizard Fancy Up the never-ending stair! But, instead, she builds me bridges Cataracts dash and roar unseen. And I cross them, little heeding Footsteps that have gone before. Naught avails the imploring gesture, Naught avails the cry of pain! When I touch the flying vesture, 'Tis the gray robe of the rain. Baffled I return, and, leaning O'er the parapets of cloud, Watch the mist that intervening Wraps the valley in its shroud. And the sounds of life ascending Faintly, vaguely, meet the ear, Murmur of bells and voices blending With the rush of waters near. Well I know what there lies hidden, Every tower and town and farm, And again the land forbidden Reassumes its vanished charm. Well I know the secret places, And the nests in hedge and tree; At what doors are friendly faces, In what hearts are thoughts of me. I HEARD the bells on Christmas Day Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Across the meadows, by the gray old Of peace on earth, good-will to men ! manse, The historic river flowed: I was as one who wanders in a trance, Unconscious of his road. Till, ringing, singing on its way, A chant sublime The faces of familiar friends seemed Of peace on earth, good-will to men! strange; Their voices I could hear, Then from each black, accursed mouth And yet the words they uttered seemed The cannon thundered in the South, to change Their meaning to my ear. For the one face I looked for was not there, The one low voice was mute; Only an unseen presence filled the air, And baffled my pursuit. Now I look back, and meadow, manse, and stream Dimly my thought defines; I only see a dream within a dream The hill-top hearsed with pines. I only hear above his place of rest The infinite longings of a troubled breast, There in seclusion and remote from men The wizard hand lies cold, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men! |