Poems | ||
74
SONG TO THE SPRING BREEZE.
I
Oh! Spirit of the breeze,Who singest in the trees,
Making low music, while the young leaves dance;
Unveil, unveil to me
Thy beauty silently,
Let me thy bright eyes view, and dovelike countenance.
II
Oft doth my Fancy's eyeThe Naiads fair espy,
Silently floating down some gentle stream;
And glisten as it sees
The green-rob'd Dryades,
Or Oreads dancing nightly by their Queen's pale beam.
III
And I, on nights of June,Have watch'd, beneath the Moon,
The gambols quaint of many a gamesome Fay,
Around the tiny throne
Of mirthful Oberon,
And his capricious Queen, proud-eyed Titania.
75
IV
But, Spirit of the Breeze,Whose noonday melodies,
And fragrant breath, soothe me so tenderly;
In vain I strive to view
Thy form's celestial hue,
Too shadowy a dream art thou to flit o'er Fancy's eye.
V
Or art thou but a sound,In fragrance floating round,
The whisper of some rural Deity,
Who, stretch'd in grotto calm,
With breath of purest balm,
Is warbling to the Nymphs' delicious minstrelsy?
VI
Oh! happy wandering thing,Thus bearing on thy wing
Refreshing coolness, fragrance, and sweet sound;
How calmly dost thou stray
Through groves and meadows gay,
Still catching, as thou glidest on, new freshness from the ground!
VII
Thou breathest on my brow,—I feel thy kisses now,—
Thy cooling kisses:—but what charm was this?
For oh! those kisses bore
A joy unfelt before,
A momentary, strange, imaginative bliss.
VIII
For my distemper'd brainThou didst call up a train
76
Almost before my eyes
I saw dear forms arise,
And cherish'd thoughts and feelings from their deep cells crept.
IX
Whence was this wondrous spell?Thou sweet-voiced Spirit, tell;—
Oh! com'st thou from mine own Salopian hills?
Their freshness dost thou bring,
Thou blessed gale of Spring,
With soothing charms to win me from my dream of ills?
X
Oh! there did lurk beneathThe fragrance of thy breath
A dim emotion of remember'd joy;
And in thy voice I heard
Tones that my spirit stirr'd,
The kindly tones that spoke to me, and cheer'd me when a boy.
XI
Hast thou not wandering beenAmid those valleys green,
Which bear the light print of my lov'd one's feet;
And as thou glidedst by,
Caught her most holy sigh?
I felt, I felt its fragrance in thy kiss so sweet.
XII
And hast thou not stray'd o'erSabrina's grassy shore,
Sweetening thy cool breath with her springing flowers;
And pass'd the cot where dwell
They whom I love so well,
Beneath their arching trees, and honeysuckle bowers?
77
XIII
Bear'st thou not thence alongMy dark-brow'd sister's song,—
Her song so potent gentle hearts to move;
Whose sweet and maiden tone,
Perchance hath sweeter grown,
Now blended with the quiet sighs and tender notes of love?
XIV
Or she, the mild-ey'd maid,Perchance by moonlight stray'd,
Quietly gazing at the silent sky;
When thou didst catch her thought,
With such calm rapture fraught,
To breathe it o'er my weary soul, deliciously.
XV
Oh! thou hast nought to doUpon the ocean blue,
Filling with busy breath the mariner's sails;
No worldly, dull employment,
Thou bodiless enjoyment,
Is thine, nor aught hast thou to do with wild and warring gales.
XVI
But peacefully thou roamest,And wheresoe'er thou comest,
Breathest around the freshness of the skies;
And on our hearts dost fling,
From thy enchanted wing,
Remembrances of absent love, calm thoughts, and happy sighs.
XVII
I know that thou art comeFrom my far-distant home,
78
But, gentle fay, returning,
Say not my soul is burning
With disappointment's bitter sting and comfortless despair.
XVIII
Say that my spirit knowsSweet moments of repose;
That dear and happy musings still are mine;
That Hope's bright dreams are flown,
But many a lingering tone
Of Memory's music lulls me yet to ecstasies divine.
Poems | ||