 | Poems and Dramas by "Fiona MacLeod" (William Sharp) |  |
254
SONG-IN-MY-HEART
Song-in-my-heart, my heart's sorrow, my delight,
I hear a thin whistling as of a high arrow in flight
Or when the wind suddenly leaps, leaving the grass snowy-white:
Is it your voice, Song-in-my-heart, that calls to me to-night?
I hear a thin whistling as of a high arrow in flight
Or when the wind suddenly leaps, leaving the grass snowy-white:
Is it your voice, Song-in-my-heart, that calls to me to-night?
It is dark here, my Love, my Pulse, my Heart, my Flame:
Dark the night, dark with wind and cloud, the wind without aim
Baffled and blind, the cloud low, broken, dragging, lame,
And a stir in the darkness at the end of the room sighing my name, whispering my name!
Dark the night, dark with wind and cloud, the wind without aim
Baffled and blind, the cloud low, broken, dragging, lame,
And a stir in the darkness at the end of the room sighing my name, whispering my name!
Is that the sea calling, or the hounds of the sea, or the wind's hounds
Baffling billow on billow, wave into wave, with trampling sounds
As of herds confusedly crowding gorges?—or with leaps and bounds
The narwhals in the polar seas crashing between ice-grown mounds?
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As of herds confusedly crowding gorges?—or with leaps and bounds
The narwhals in the polar seas crashing between ice-grown mounds?
Great is that dark noise under the black north wind
Out on the sea to-night: but still it is—still as the frost that bind
The stark inland waters in green depths where icebergs grind—
In this noise of shaking storm in my heart and this blast sweeping my mind.
Out on the sea to-night: but still it is—still as the frost that bind
The stark inland waters in green depths where icebergs grind—
In this noise of shaking storm in my heart and this blast sweeping my mind.
| Poems and Dramas by "Fiona MacLeod" (William Sharp) | |