The chime of silver bells; the sweet Wild rush of fairy wings and feet; The fluting birds of dawn; the small And crystal music of the waterfall. Or piping of some lone and hidden faun;...
Child of the North, within thy Northern eyes How brood and burn the restless mysteries! Blooded of Hellas, thy dark brows between, That spray of antique laurel, how serene!
Roses about my way, and roses still! 0, I must pick and have my very fill! Red for my heart and white upon my hair And still I shall have roses and to spare! My child, I save thee thorns! Dear little friend,...
At night it is not strange that thou art dead; I give thee to the stars, the moonlight snow; But ah, when desolate I lift my head, And thou art gone at early morning, No!
Ah, love, why love you tears? What beauty in the rue? Do you not know the years Shall bring their griefs to you, To dew your nightly pillow ere you sleep? Perchance, hut let me weep! ...
Dawn, midnight, noonday? What are times to thee Man's Grief art thou, that moanest with the light, And starest dumb at evening, and at night Dost wake and dream and slumber fitfully!...
Demeter? 'Tis a name! For in thy face A myriad women find their mourning-place! Thou, sitting lonely on the wayside stone, O pagan mother, thou art not alone! ...
O friendly, that I never knew for friend, O flame, that never warmed me from the cold, O light, that never beckoned to an end, Give me but once thy beauty to behold! ...
They sing the race, the song is wildly sweet; But thou, my harp, oh thou shalt sing the goal! The distant goal, that draws the bleeding feet And lights the brow and lifts the fainting soul!...
Pass, pass, you fiery spirit! Never bland And halting never! Hosted round to-night, At the great wall, with spears of lifted light, Held by embattled seraphim, who stand...