 | Carol and Cadence |  |
SONG-TIDE.
When the sweetheart Spring
Comes its pleasantness to bring
And its broideries for the bridal of the year,
When the season is of singing
And the woods and wolds are ringing
With the carols loud and clear
Of the many-coloured flying feathered choir,
When the world upon the wing
Brings its homage to the king
And the earth and sea and heavens are grown a living lyre,
I am silent, only I:
From the concert of the songsters far and nigh,
Forth their soaring souls for joy to heaven that fling,
Only absent is my note;
For the throstle in my throat
Fallen dumb is, why I know not, and I have no song to sing.
Comes its pleasantness to bring
And its broideries for the bridal of the year,
When the season is of singing
And the woods and wolds are ringing
With the carols loud and clear
216
When the world upon the wing
Brings its homage to the king
And the earth and sea and heavens are grown a living lyre,
I am silent, only I:
From the concert of the songsters far and nigh,
Forth their soaring souls for joy to heaven that fling,
Only absent is my note;
For the throstle in my throat
Fallen dumb is, why I know not, and I have no song to sing.
Nay, the case the same
Is when Summer's skies aflame
For the festival of June are and July,
When the riot of the roses
In the radiant garden-closes
And the jessamines runs high,
When the daisies fill the fields up to the brink,
When the tall white lilies rise,
Like archangels in flower-guise,
And the hollyhocks stand sentinel o'er pæony and pink.
In the hot midsummer hush,
I am silent with the blackbird and the thrush,
As when all the world in slumber steeping lies
Under August's heaven of brass
And the cricket in the grass
To the land-rail and the wheatear in the corn alone replies.
Is when Summer's skies aflame
For the festival of June are and July,
When the riot of the roses
In the radiant garden-closes
And the jessamines runs high,
When the daisies fill the fields up to the brink,
When the tall white lilies rise,
Like archangels in flower-guise,
And the hollyhocks stand sentinel o'er pæony and pink.
In the hot midsummer hush,
I am silent with the blackbird and the thrush,
As when all the world in slumber steeping lies
Under August's heaven of brass
And the cricket in the grass
To the land-rail and the wheatear in the corn alone replies.
Nor, when autumn weaves
Webs of gold and crimson leaves
For the faded woods' funereal wede of state,
When the wandering winds go sighing
For the year that lies a-dying
And the Winter's at the gate,
When, like herbs and spices strewn upon a bier,
The sense from the dead sheaves,
That strew the ways, perceives
A bitter breath of incense for the funeral of the year,
When the robin flutes alone,
For the other birds are either mute or flown,
And the swallows hold high council in the eaves
For departure to the South,
Disenchanted is my mouth;
And still the same mysterious spell of silence to me cleaves.
Webs of gold and crimson leaves
For the faded woods' funereal wede of state,
When the wandering winds go sighing
For the year that lies a-dying
And the Winter's at the gate,
When, like herbs and spices strewn upon a bier,
The sense from the dead sheaves,
That strew the ways, perceives
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When the robin flutes alone,
For the other birds are either mute or flown,
And the swallows hold high council in the eaves
For departure to the South,
Disenchanted is my mouth;
And still the same mysterious spell of silence to me cleaves.
But, when Winter's hand,
Laid and heavy on the land,
All the life in field and flood with frost benumbs,
When the snows, like a dead lover,
Earth with shrouds of ermine cover
And the starving robin comes
To the window for the food he cannot find,
When the trees like spectres stand,
By some strong enchanter's hand
Struck and starkened into stillness and the ways with snow are blind,
Then at last my heart awakes
From its slumber and the seal of silence breaks;
And like tides that roll and riot o'er the strand,
From my loosened lips once more,
With the wave-rush and the roar
Of the orchestra, the songs flock forth, a multisonous band.
Laid and heavy on the land,
All the life in field and flood with frost benumbs,
When the snows, like a dead lover,
Earth with shrouds of ermine cover
And the starving robin comes
To the window for the food he cannot find,
When the trees like spectres stand,
By some strong enchanter's hand
Struck and starkened into stillness and the ways with snow are blind,
Then at last my heart awakes
From its slumber and the seal of silence breaks;
And like tides that roll and riot o'er the strand,
From my loosened lips once more,
With the wave-rush and the roar
Of the orchestra, the songs flock forth, a multisonous band.
| Carol and Cadence | |