Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne Complete edition with numerous illustrations |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
THE DRYAD OF THE PINE.
|
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
23. |
24. |
25. |
26. |
27. |
28. |
29. |
30. |
31. |
32. |
33. |
34. |
35. |
36. |
37. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
23. |
24. |
25. |
26. |
27. |
28. |
29. |
30. |
31. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne | ||
THE DRYAD OF THE PINE.
Ah, forest sweetheart! over land and sea
I come once more, once more to stand by thee;
My sylvan darling! set 'twixt shade and sheen,
Soft as a maid, yet stately as a queen!
I come once more, once more to stand by thee;
My sylvan darling! set 'twixt shade and sheen,
Soft as a maid, yet stately as a queen!
Thy loyal head, crowned by one lonely star,
Flickers thro' twilight, coldly fine, and far;
But thy earth-yearning branches bend to greet
The lowliest wood-grass tangled round my feet.
Flickers thro' twilight, coldly fine, and far;
But thy earth-yearning branches bend to greet
The lowliest wood-grass tangled round my feet.
Leaning on thee, I feel the subtlest thrill
Stir thy dusk limbs, tho' all the heavens are still;
And 'neath thy rings of rugged fretwork, mark
What seems a heart-throb muffled in the dark!
Stir thy dusk limbs, tho' all the heavens are still;
And 'neath thy rings of rugged fretwork, mark
What seems a heart-throb muffled in the dark!
Here lingering long, amid the shadowy gleams,
Faintly I catch (yet scarce as one that dreams)
Low words of alien music, softly sung,
And rhythmic sighs in some sweet unknown tongue.
Faintly I catch (yet scarce as one that dreams)
Low words of alien music, softly sung,
And rhythmic sighs in some sweet unknown tongue.
And something rare, I cannot clasp or see,
Flits vaguely out from this mysterious tree—
A viewless glory, and ethereal grace,
Which make Elysian all the haunted place!
Flits vaguely out from this mysterious tree—
A viewless glory, and ethereal grace,
Which make Elysian all the haunted place!
Ethereal! viewless! yet divinely drear!
Ah me! what strange enchantment hovers near.
What breaths of love the old, old dreams renew!
What kisses fall, like charmed Thessalian dew!
Ah me! what strange enchantment hovers near.
What breaths of love the old, old dreams renew!
What kisses fall, like charmed Thessalian dew!
My Dryad-Love hath slipped the imprisoning bark,
Her heart on mine, unmuffled by the dark.
Her heart on mine, unmuffled by the dark.
Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne | ||