 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
48
THE BAY-LEAF CROWN.
I
And is it yet in front in spite of all?That crown my eyes are hungry to embrace,
And will my head be ever fitting place
On which its circular shadow soft may fall?
If this be so, I am strong to burst the thrall
Of every low desire that backward bears
A soul that should be wingèd as the airs,
That downward drags a heart that should be tall
As a majestic oak, and as the sea
In width, and as the diamond air above
In depth, intensity, and warmth of love
Towards all the living things that 'neath it be,
And long as woman's memory, and as free
And gentle as the flying of a dove.
49
II
Far, far in front they glitter, those sweet leaves,But many a lonesome agony lies between,
And many a desert all untouched by green,
And many a day that mocks, and night that grieves,
And many a harvest all bereft of sheaves,
Bereft of fruit to gather—but the prize
Is worthy—in the future far it lies,
And distance of its sorrow hope bereaves;
But pain is pain, and bitter are the tears
We shed, the wreaths of weeping we entwine,
Sad cypress wreaths made bright with eglantine,
Around the cherished hopes of vanished years,
Around our earlier loves, their low-laid biers,
Their ghosts proceeding in a pale long line.
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