Puslapio vaizdai
PDF
„ePub“

About her steps the trunks are bare, the branches
Drip heavy tears upon her downcast head;
And bleed from unseen wounds that no sun staunches,
For the year's sun is dead.

And dead leaves wrap the fruits that summer planted:
And birds that love the South have taken wing,
The wanderer, loitering o'er the scene enchanted,
Weeps, and despairs of Spring.

Love on My Heart.

LOVE on my heart from heaven fell, Soft as the dew on flowers of spring, Sweet as the hidden drops that swell Their honey-throated chalicing.

Now never from him do I part,
Hosanna, evermore I cry:
I taste his savour in my heart,
And bid all praise him as do I.

Without him noughtsoever is,
Nor was afore, nor e'er shall be ;
Nor any other joy than his
Wish I for mine to comfort me.

Wheatfields.

BELOW me, glimmering to the sky,
Acres of golden harvest lie;
Enclosed within the living grain
Food for tired body, aching brain.

There waves the man-sown grain of God,
There His wide ensigns float abroad:
To what high purpose, nobly wrought,
Shall all this store of life be brought ?

Who sows the seed shall reap the grain, Who reaps shall sow the seed again; Thus shall the spirit reap, and draw From food transmuted, spirit's law.

The body feeds the spirit yet
With food for passion and regret,
And in those ripened fields I see
Many a sad Gethsemane.

What fire of love lies there in thrall,
What dragging pain, what bitter gall;
What life dishonoured and what cries
Of spiritual agonies!

I see in those still fields the sum
Of all who to life's birth-right come;

Sorrow and gladness, labouring breath,
Terror, magnificence, and death.

Who sows the seed shall reap the grain,
Who reaps
shall sow the seed again;
Thus shall the spirit reap, and draw
From food transmuted, spirit's law.

A Spring Night.

CLEAR silence floods the valley deeps, the night
Is quick with stars, a breathless dusk wherein
The world seems as a tremulous dew-drop poised
On a white blossom of eternity.

If God should shake the tree! Yet wherefore so
Shed sudden ruin, when death stands and plucks
From all the living orchards of the world?
Not yet shall He upgather all the stars
To glut the golden treasury of Heaven,

Nor leash the winds, nor bid the seasons cease,
Nor loose the seas from bondage of the moon;
But still from barrenness shall beauty spring,
And bloom from dust, and after fevered drouth
Fall laving rains and ministering dews. . . .

Blossom and nightingale, music and bowering bloom
Aquiver with the passion of the song;

Moonlight and bloom and nightingale; the vale Mingles sharp fragrance of the young green earth

To brim the cup of ecstasy. I lean

Forth to the night, and into its great heart

Am folded, folded deep, and understand

The ancient peace that breathed through Paradise.

« AnkstesnisTęsti »