Under Green Leaves | ||
I. PART I.—EARTH-SORROWS.
The melodies! the harmonies!
They fall from my fingers free,
Like rain where the tree-tops quiver,
Like hail on the rippling river,
Like sunbeams on the sea.
And there are thoughts within them,
And fancies fresh and young;—
But, alas! I cannot utter them
For failure of my tongue.
The melodies, the harmonies,
Unspoken and unsung!
I would I were a poet,
And that my thoughts could reach
The magic and the mystery,
And affluence of speech;—
That I might tell my secrets
And all that I could teach;—
Or that some kindly minstrel,
With thoughts akin to mine,
Would deign to sit beside me,
And help me to entwine
My music with his language
Into a chain divine,
That men might bind their hearts with,
Like a trellis'd vine.
They fall from my fingers free,
Like rain where the tree-tops quiver,
Like hail on the rippling river,
Like sunbeams on the sea.
And there are thoughts within them,
And fancies fresh and young;—
But, alas! I cannot utter them
For failure of my tongue.
The melodies, the harmonies,
Unspoken and unsung!
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And that my thoughts could reach
The magic and the mystery,
And affluence of speech;—
That I might tell my secrets
And all that I could teach;—
Or that some kindly minstrel,
With thoughts akin to mine,
Would deign to sit beside me,
And help me to entwine
My music with his language
Into a chain divine,
That men might bind their hearts with,
Like a trellis'd vine.
But the melodies! the harmonies!
They die as they are born,
With none to understand them;—
So sweetly as I plann'd them,
In my joy forlorn!
The breath of an emotion
And a happy pain,
They drop on the wide, wide ocean,
Like the barren rain;
And when I would revive them,
I look for them in vain.
They die as they are born,
With none to understand them;—
So sweetly as I plann'd them,
In my joy forlorn!
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And a happy pain,
They drop on the wide, wide ocean,
Like the barren rain;
And when I would revive them,
I look for them in vain.
Under Green Leaves | ||