 | The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems |  |
84
A VISION IN HYDE PARK.
As an exiled mountaineer desires,
When he marks the old familiar horn,
The mountain-palace of his sires,
And the vine-clad slope where he was born,
The yellow leagues of wind-swept corn,
And the old wide flames of beacon-fires:
When he marks the old familiar horn,
The mountain-palace of his sires,
And the vine-clad slope where he was born,
The yellow leagues of wind-swept corn,
And the old wide flames of beacon-fires:
As his foot pauses in the street,
And all his being halts and thrills,
At the unforgotten music sweet,
That so pervades and shakes and fills
His soul with the savour of the hills,
And the sense of countless fields of wheat—
And all his being halts and thrills,
At the unforgotten music sweet,
That so pervades and shakes and fills
His soul with the savour of the hills,
And the sense of countless fields of wheat—
And some one on the mountain side,
Waiting to give him welcome soft—
Ah! that old face of a dead bride,
That even here in London oft
Shines out so clear, he stares aloft
And fancies that she has not died!
Waiting to give him welcome soft—
Ah! that old face of a dead bride,
That even here in London oft
Shines out so clear, he stares aloft
And fancies that she has not died!
85
So all my memory hurries back
To one strange night—the moon was full,
And brightly gleamed across the track,
And silvered many a silent pool;
The gentle winds were slight and cool,
And hardly made the branches crack.
To one strange night—the moon was full,
And brightly gleamed across the track,
And silvered many a silent pool;
The gentle winds were slight and cool,
And hardly made the branches crack.
And then I saw my first love shine
Resplendent as a rising star
That moves along the ocean-line,
And flames in glory from afar,
With red wheels and a red-lipped car—
Or burns behind the mountain pine.
Resplendent as a rising star
That moves along the ocean-line,
And flames in glory from afar,
With red wheels and a red-lipped car—
Or burns behind the mountain pine.
I understood the clear white truth,
And all the power and zeal of it—
And the rose-flushed passion of my youth
Was as a comet—and it lit
The town, and its long splendour hit
The peaks of every tower in sooth.
And all the power and zeal of it—
And the rose-flushed passion of my youth
Was as a comet—and it lit
The town, and its long splendour hit
The peaks of every tower in sooth.
And all the past was clear before
The wondrous face of that strange light:
Again we wandered on the shore—
And the perfume of a northern night
Passed daintily our spirits o'er,
And every place was bright.
The wondrous face of that strange light:
Again we wandered on the shore—
And the perfume of a northern night
Passed daintily our spirits o'er,
And every place was bright.
86
And then it vanished; and I knew
That I was in a London park:
Behold, the wintry sky was blue!
Behold, the wintry streets were dark!
And the moon was only a red spark,
And my dream was not true.
That I was in a London park:
Behold, the wintry sky was blue!
Behold, the wintry streets were dark!
And the moon was only a red spark,
And my dream was not true.
But yet I worship that wild dream,
And the splendour manifold
That poured along the streets a beam
Of molten luscious gold,
Although I only hold
One thin remembered gleam.
And the splendour manifold
That poured along the streets a beam
Of molten luscious gold,
Although I only hold
One thin remembered gleam.
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