The leaping of heart unto heart with bliss that can never be spoken; The passion that maddens, and shows how God may be thrust from His creatures. For this do I tremble and start when the rose on the vine taps my shoulder, For this when the storm beats me down my soul groweth bolder and bolder. 66 ६ ва Julia C. R. Jarr O WIND THAT BLOWS OUT OF THE WEST!" O wind that blows out of the West! Thou hast swept over mountain and sea, Or fluttered the fragrant heart Of the rose she loves to wear? O sun that goes down in the West! Hast thou gilded a path for her feet, Or deepened the glow on her cheeks, The low, sweet words she speaks? O stars that are bright in the West Do ye see my love as she lies Like a chaste, white flower, asleep? Does she smile as she walks with me O birds that fly out of the West! Do ye bring me a message from her, As sweet as your love-notes are When the warm spring breezes stir? As your tremulous wings swept by, Or utter my name, mayhap, In a single passionate cry? O voices out of the West! Ye are silent, every one, From wind, or stars, or sun! Through the boundless fields of space, As reckless of human prayers As if earth were a desert place! THE PLACE. "I go to prepare a place for you." O Holy Place, we know not where thou art! Though one by one our well-beloved dead From our close claspings to thy bliss have fled, They send no word back to the breaking heart; And if, perchance, their angels fly athwart The silent reaches of the abyss widespread, The swift, white wings we see not, but instead Only the dark void keeping us apart. Where did He set thee, O thou Holy Place? But what if on some fair, auspicious night, Like that on which the shepherds watched of old, Down from far skies, in burning splendor rolled, Shall stream the radiance of a star more bright Than ever yet hath shone on mortal sight— Swift shafts of light, like javelins of gold, All men shall cry, with sudden joy intense, Our heaven at last revealed!-the Place! the Place!" Then shall the heavenly host with one accord And from his belt unloose the blazing sword, While pale proud Ashtaroth, with footsteps fleet, Her jeweled crown drops humbly at his feet, And Lyra strikes her harp's most rapturous chord. O Earth, bid all your lonely isles rejoice! Break into singing, all ye silent hills, And ye, tumultuous seas, make quick reply! Let the remotest desert find a voice! The whole creation to its center thrills, For the new light of Heaven is in the sky! DISCONTENT. I. THE BRIER ROSE. I cling to the garden wall Outside, where the grasses grow; Where the tall weeds flaunt in the sun, The rude winds toss my hair, The wild rains beat me down, The way-side dust lies white And thick on my leafy crown. I cannot keep my robes From wanton fingers free, And the veriest beggar dares Το stop and gaze at me. Sometimes I climb and climb To the top of the garden wall, My sister, the royal one, Under the summer sun! |