 | The white sail and other poems |  |
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THE WOOING PINE.
There was a lady, starshine in her look,
Of lineage fierce, yet tremulous and kind
As the field-gossamer, that down the wind
Floats gleamingly from some enthistled nook;
And wayward as her beauty was her mind
That evermore bright errant journeys took.
Of lineage fierce, yet tremulous and kind
As the field-gossamer, that down the wind
Floats gleamingly from some enthistled nook;
And wayward as her beauty was her mind
That evermore bright errant journeys took.
Her father's houndish lords she moved among,
From feud and uproar dewily distraught;
Winnowed her harp of its least pain; and brought
Delight's full freshet to a beggar's tongue,
Or spun amid her maids with chapel-thought
That on a crystal pivot burned and swung.
From feud and uproar dewily distraught;
Winnowed her harp of its least pain; and brought
Delight's full freshet to a beggar's tongue,
Or spun amid her maids with chapel-thought
That on a crystal pivot burned and swung.
But night on night, an exile from sleek rest,
She nestled warm before her hearth-fire low,
To watch its little wind-born planets go
Orbing; and from the martyr-oak's charred breast,
In spirit-blue flame, in quintuple wild glow,
The tossing leaves prolong their summer zest.
She nestled warm before her hearth-fire low,
To watch its little wind-born planets go
Orbing; and from the martyr-oak's charred breast,
In spirit-blue flame, in quintuple wild glow,
The tossing leaves prolong their summer zest.
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And ailingly, she needs must often sigh,
Perplexèd out of her rich wonted glee,
Whereof some unseen warder kept the key,
And quell the dark defiance of her eye
In patience, as a torch dips in the sea.
And so, in brooding, went the white days by.
Perplexèd out of her rich wonted glee,
Whereof some unseen warder kept the key,
And quell the dark defiance of her eye
In patience, as a torch dips in the sea.
And so, in brooding, went the white days by.
Unto the horsemen brave in war's array
She waved no token from her latticed house,
Nor yet of princelings bare upon her brows
Love's salutation; but from such as they
Turned, as a shy brook wheels from jutting boughs,
And in a sidelong glimmer sobs away
She waved no token from her latticed house,
Nor yet of princelings bare upon her brows
Love's salutation; but from such as they
Turned, as a shy brook wheels from jutting boughs,
And in a sidelong glimmer sobs away
Her sealèd sense beheld no man, nor heard,
Nor lent its troth to any mortal bond,
But lived heart-full of vital light beyond,
And with miraculous tides of being stirred,
Lingering tho' eager, till the forest fond
Winged to its own pure peace this homing bird.
Nor lent its troth to any mortal bond,
But lived heart-full of vital light beyond,
And with miraculous tides of being stirred,
Lingering tho' eager, till the forest fond
Winged to its own pure peace this homing bird.
For, sad with rains of unrevealed desire,
And heavy with predestined glory's beam,
She to the water-girdled wood's extreme
Stole from her suitors' pleas, her father's ire,
Far from their brambly ways to sit and dream,
And make sweet plaint, in daylight's dying fire;
And heavy with predestined glory's beam,
She to the water-girdled wood's extreme
Stole from her suitors' pleas, her father's ire,
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And make sweet plaint, in daylight's dying fire;
When, one with lilt of her own veins, there rose
Across remote and jasmine-pillared space,
A voice of so persuasive, piteous grace
That all her globèd sorrow did unclose
To fragrant helpfulness in that still place,
And sought, in tears, the breather of such woes.
Across remote and jasmine-pillared space,
A voice of so persuasive, piteous grace
That all her globèd sorrow did unclose
To fragrant helpfulness in that still place,
And sought, in tears, the breather of such woes.
And peering, of the level-shafted sun
Evasive, listening from a mossy knoll,
To kindling quiet sank her gentle soul,
In awe at some high venture to be done,
As when outpeals from Fame's coercive pole,
Too soon, on ears too weak, her clarion.
Evasive, listening from a mossy knoll,
To kindling quiet sank her gentle soul,
In awe at some high venture to be done,
As when outpeals from Fame's coercive pole,
Too soon, on ears too weak, her clarion.
Burst in the golden air a wide and deep
Torrent of harmony, that with clang and shock
Might wreck a pinnace on an Afric rock,
And on the ruin foamily o'erheap
Bright reparation: 't was a strength to mock
Itself with swoons, and idle sobs, and sleep.
Torrent of harmony, that with clang and shock
Might wreck a pinnace on an Afric rock,
And on the ruin foamily o'erheap
Bright reparation: 't was a strength to mock
Itself with swoons, and idle sobs, and sleep.
A splendor-hoary pine, of kingliest cheer,
Enrooted 'neath her thrilling footfall, stood;
Suffused with youth and gracious hardihood,
Sown of the wind from heaven's memorial sphere,
With the red might of centuries in his blood,
Unscarred and straight against the battling year,
Enrooted 'neath her thrilling footfall, stood;
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Sown of the wind from heaven's memorial sphere,
With the red might of centuries in his blood,
Unscarred and straight against the battling year,
From whose great heart those noble accents flowed,
And from the melancholy arms outspread
Whereon the aching winter long had snowed:
‘Come, sister! spouse! whom Love hath strangely led
From bondage, come!’ And her most blessèd head
She laid upon his breast as her abode.
And from the melancholy arms outspread
Whereon the aching winter long had snowed:
‘Come, sister! spouse! whom Love hath strangely led
From bondage, come!’ And her most blessèd head
She laid upon his breast as her abode.
O wonderful to hearing, touch, and gaze!
This was of soul's unrest and spirit's scar
Solving and healing; this the late full star
Superillumining the hither ways,
And the old blind allegiance set ajar
Like a dark door, against its flooded rays.
This was of soul's unrest and spirit's scar
Solving and healing; this the late full star
Superillumining the hither ways,
And the old blind allegiance set ajar
Like a dark door, against its flooded rays.
All intertangled fell their dusky hair
In tender twilight's bowery recess;
And that fair bride of her heart-heaviness
Was disenthralled in love's Lethean air,
Where orchids hung upon the wind's caress,
And the first tawny lily made her lair.
In tender twilight's bowery recess;
And that fair bride of her heart-heaviness
Was disenthralled in love's Lethean air,
Where orchids hung upon the wind's caress,
And the first tawny lily made her lair.
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Dear minions served them in the covert green:
The squirrel coy, the beetle in his mail,
The moth, the bee, the throbbing nightingale,
And the gaunt wolf, their vassal; to them e'en
The widowed serpent, on her vengeful trail,
Upcast an iridescent eye serene.
The squirrel coy, the beetle in his mail,
The moth, the bee, the throbbing nightingale,
And the gaunt wolf, their vassal; to them e'en
The widowed serpent, on her vengeful trail,
Upcast an iridescent eye serene.
The last tired envoy from the realm bereaved
Blew at the drawbridge, riding castlewards;
The fisher-folk along the beachen shards
Pierced, calling, the cool thickets silvern leaved;
And grandams meagre, and road-roaming bards
Shared her sad theme, for whom men vainly grieved.
Blew at the drawbridge, riding castlewards;
The fisher-folk along the beachen shards
Pierced, calling, the cool thickets silvern leaved;
And grandams meagre, and road-roaming bards
Shared her sad theme, for whom men vainly grieved.
But lad and lass, with parted mouth a-bloom,
Who strayed thereby in April's misty prime,
A vision freshening to the after-time
Caught thro' the rifts of uninvaded gloom,—
A maiden, honey-lipped as Tuscan rhyme,
And her young hunter, with his sombre plume.
Who strayed thereby in April's misty prime,
A vision freshening to the after-time
Caught thro' the rifts of uninvaded gloom,—
A maiden, honey-lipped as Tuscan rhyme,
And her young hunter, with his sombre plume.
For dynasties tho' passing-bells be tolled,
Theirs is the midmost ecstasy of June,
Her music, her imperishable moon;
While Time, that elsewhere is so rough and cold,
Like a soft child, flower-plucking all forenoon,
Gathers the ages from this garden old.
Theirs is the midmost ecstasy of June,
Her music, her imperishable moon;
While Time, that elsewhere is so rough and cold,
Like a soft child, flower-plucking all forenoon,
Gathers the ages from this garden old.
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Calm housemates with them in their forest lone
Do Freedom, Innocence and Joy, abide:
And aye as one who into Heaven hath died
Thro' mortal aisleways of melodious moan,
The boatman sees, at dusk, from Arno's tide,
The Everlasting Lover with his own!
Do Freedom, Innocence and Joy, abide:
And aye as one who into Heaven hath died
Thro' mortal aisleways of melodious moan,
The boatman sees, at dusk, from Arno's tide,
The Everlasting Lover with his own!
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