 | Songs of summer |  |
III.
1.
Ah! that bitter, bitter burden! who besides myself has known it?From a myriad I was singled for its ministry and doom:
None that bear it, if there be such, have the honesty to own it;
Living they are voiceless, and voiceless is the tomb!
I that bore it, I that bear it, hardly understand it yet;
'Tis not easy to see clearly through the distance of regret.
First were longings, vague and hopeless as the glances cast above,
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Then a dream of something bright;
'Twas the bliss, the sorrow—Love!
With love my dreams grew clear, and from out their skirts of mist,
Clad in robes of white, came a bevy of fair girls;
Each a fairy princess, a fairy lover kissed,
On her drooping eyelids, on her golden curls,
And the red mouth, dropping pearls!
From sweet lips plucking kisses, from bright eyes drinking flame,
From warm hearts hoarding passion, what heart had I for care?
A cavalier of olden time, my love a noble dame,
While lavish Fancy built me a castle in the air!
To airy jousts and tournaments I rode in gallant show;
No matter who opposed me, I cleared the tented field;
A lady's favor on my crest, a heart upon my shield,
A bleeding heart below!
2.
I was young, that was the reason, why my fancy was so wild;And 'tis natural to love, in the simpleness of youth;
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Surely then it was a trifle, in a child!
Nay, though I have learned to hate it, with a host of weighty reasons,
(Holding true to its Ideal, in the midst of all my hate!)
There are none, I think, exempted, none but suffer in their seasons,
Loved and loving, soon or late.
Loveless, friendless, from the first, and with solitude accurst,
My soul did sigh, and moan:
I wanted some one near me, some loving one to cheer me;
For who can cheerful be, or good, or human, when alone!
Mine eyes went searching round, for something never seen,
By either Night, or Day;
I stretched my arms to clasp my fancy's queen,
That paragon of clay!
I stretched my loving arms, and clasped her in my sleep,
Wound myself about her in a coil of fire;
And my hot lips kissed her with passionate desire,
Brow, and face, and bosom, until I woke to weep!
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3.
Thrilling with my youthful longings, which anticipated thee,Dreams were mine of bridal chambers, and they colored all my song;
Like the rosy hues of evening, settling yonder on the sea,
Blending with the waves, whose motion wafts the dying flame along!
But my songs were of the senses, running over with desire;
Dim seraglios in the tropics, steeped in all their bloom and fire;
Shaded lamps, and burning odors; flagons of the ripest wine;
Purple curtains, downy couches, and sultannas veiled in tresses;
Sighing rapture, showering kisses, intertwining last caresses,
And the ecstasy divine.
Is it any wonder, dearest, now the madness is confest,
Now the road again is traversed, every bramble, every thorn,
Where the feet of youth were torn,
That my burning years were wasted with the Burden of Unrest?
| Songs of summer | |