University of Virginia Library

A VISION OF GREEN LEAVES.

The time was Winter, Winter or the Spring
That comes with tardy footstep, lingering
Like some reluctant Giver, yielding cold
The boons that it no longer may withhold;
And ere I slept, I listened to the rain
Dashed by the fitful wind against the pane,
The wind, that even through my sleep did seem
To break upon the music of my dream,
With pause of change and dreariness, and still
Swelled, sighed, and moaned each varying scene to fill
With trouble and unrest; at length outworn
I slept within my sleep, and to the Morn
(Still in my dream) awoke, with vacant eye
Forth from the casement gazing listlessly,
When sudden I exclaimed, “A miracle!
A Summer come at once, without a Spring
To herald it! a bright awakening
To life and loveliness,” for all around
Were leaves, green bursting leaves, and on the ground
Was short grass springing thick, and through the wave
The dark flag cut its swift way like a glaive;
And broad as Orient growths, upon the pool,
Large, juicy leaves lay mantling, smooth and cool:
I saw no flowers, no fruit, but everywhere
Leaves, only leaves, that filled the summer air
With murmurs, soft as whispers, that the heart
Hath longed and listened for; while light and low,
As chidings fall from lips that turn their flow
To gentleness, quick rustlings waved apart
The boughs, and fragrance soothed the sense like thought
Too sweet for utterance; e'en then I caught
The Dream's full import: “'Tis the Spring's warm sigh,”
Methought, “that calls forth all this luxury
Of leaf and greenness; thus, upon the heart
A word, a look will bid a Summer start,
A Summer come at once, without a Spring
To herald it, a sudden wakening;”
Then from the bands of sleep my spirit broke,
And with the sweetness on my soul I woke,
And it was Winter still! but in my heart
Was Summer! Summer that would not depart,
But breathed across its silence, low and light,
Like those sweet forest-rustlings of the night;
It was a dream of Hope! and sent by Her
My Lady bright, because I minister
Unto her honour, while I strive to sing
And praise her with my Lyre's most silver string;
It was a dream of Hope; I know the hue
Of her fresh mantle, and her symbol true,
The leaf! she cannot give the flower or fruit,
But sends their promise by a herald mute;
The leaf, that comes like one in haste to bring
The first of all some gladsome welcoming,
And cannot speak for joy, but with the hand
Still points and beckons to the coming band;
I know the symbol, and I bind the sign
Upon my heart to make it doubly thine,
Thou Bringer of sweet dreams by day and night,
Still will I sing and praise Thee, Lady bright!
And I will gather of these leaves, to twine
A chaplet for those sunny brows of thine;
And by thy smiling Thou wilt keep its sheen,
In Winter as in Summer fresh and green!