Gerard's Monument And Other Poems. By Emily Pfeiffer: 2nd Ed., Revised and Enlarged |
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 | Gerard's Monument |  |
168
SONG.
[Eye, hast thou seen the sun]
Eye, hast thou seen the sun,
That thou carryest thus away
What thou hast looked upon,
As a dazzling mote or ray?
“The sun, or the glittering spangles
Of Natalie's mazy hair,—
The sun, or its golden tangles,
Follow me everywhere.”
That thou carryest thus away
What thou hast looked upon,
As a dazzling mote or ray?
“The sun, or the glittering spangles
Of Natalie's mazy hair,—
The sun, or its golden tangles,
Follow me everywhere.”
Ear, hast thou drunk so deep
Of the gurgling sounds on the shore,
That thou hearest them still in thy sleep,
And their echoes will not give o'er?
“The waves that sob on the beech,
Or Natalie's laugh so low,—
The waves, or her rippling speech,
Still haunt me, wherever I go.”
Of the gurgling sounds on the shore,
That thou hearest them still in thy sleep,
And their echoes will not give o'er?
“The waves that sob on the beech,
Or Natalie's laugh so low,—
The waves, or her rippling speech,
Still haunt me, wherever I go.”
169
Heart, that hast beat so high,
Where is thy shame, thy pride
Why, as if guilty, lie
Trembling at Natalie's side?
“I kneel there to bear the sin
Of an eye and an ear too deft;
Would God she would take me in—
A prisoner—though for theft!”
Where is thy shame, thy pride
Why, as if guilty, lie
Trembling at Natalie's side?
“I kneel there to bear the sin
Of an eye and an ear too deft;
Would God she would take me in—
A prisoner—though for theft!”
170
SONG.
[Oh, little heart, how close you cling]
Oh, little heart, how close you cling,
How close you cling! when I am fain
To put you back as some light thing,
I find you in your place again.
How close you cling! when I am fain
To put you back as some light thing,
I find you in your place again.
Your voice is silent when we meet,
But still, while others talk aloud,
I seem to hear your pulses beat,
And see you only in the crowd.
But still, while others talk aloud,
I seem to hear your pulses beat,
And see you only in the crowd.
And shall I scorn you that you were
So little in yourself before,
That love, which found you only fair,
Has made you all that you are more?
So little in yourself before,
That love, which found you only fair,
Has made you all that you are more?
A wiser man ere this had ceased
To yearn for some far distant good,
And sat contented at the feast
Which thus beneath his doorway stood;
To yearn for some far distant good,
171
Which thus beneath his doorway stood;
For God's wide universe were dull
And vacant for the blind of heart,
While seeing eyes find dew-drops full
And earth alive in every part.
And vacant for the blind of heart,
While seeing eyes find dew-drops full
And earth alive in every part.
What should it matter, sweet, if eyes
That never saw that tender gleam
In yours, should gaze with dull surprise
On spells whose depths they could not dream?
That never saw that tender gleam
In yours, should gaze with dull surprise
On spells whose depths they could not dream?
I cannot leave you, little heart,
I cannot tear you from the breast
Of which your life but seems a part,—
So lie there evermore and rest.
I cannot tear you from the breast
Of which your life but seems a part,—
So lie there evermore and rest.
172
SONG.
[The brooding birds are singing, love]
The brooding birds are singing, love,
And waking up the morn,
And me they wake from troubled sleep
To weep and pray,—to pray and weep.
And waking up the morn,
And me they wake from troubled sleep
To weep and pray,—to pray and weep.
A little thrush that tried her wings
A year agone to-day,
Now sits beside her mate, who sings
While you are far away.
A year agone to-day,
Now sits beside her mate, who sings
While you are far away.
A lithe green bough was rocking then
Beneath her trembling feet;
Now all the old year's leaves are dead,
But three are spread to make her bed.
Beneath her trembling feet;
Now all the old year's leaves are dead,
But three are spread to make her bed.
Oh, withered hopes! Oh, leaves of life!
Ye none again may find,—
Ye all are trampled in the strife,
Or blown upon the wind.
Ye none again may find,—
173
Or blown upon the wind.
How strange, my heart, that singing birds
Should only know one song:
Of heaven and earth in one green glade,
Within its shade—one youth, one maid!
Should only know one song:
Of heaven and earth in one green glade,
Within its shade—one youth, one maid!
The birds remind me, singing thus,
Of one sweet summer's dawn
That never should have come for us,
Or never should have gone.
Of one sweet summer's dawn
That never should have come for us,
Or never should have gone.
So loud the copse was ringing love
That day, we could not speak;
But there is utterance far more sweet
In lips that meet when hearts so beat!
That day, we could not speak;
But there is utterance far more sweet
In lips that meet when hearts so beat!
And still the birds are singing, love,—
Oh, happy birds, give o'er!
I listen like the mourning dove,—
I cannot hear them more.
Oh, happy birds, give o'er!
I listen like the mourning dove,—
I cannot hear them more.
174
I wander, like the lonely dove
To find an empty nest;
And if your spirit linger there,
Still, love, I dare to find all bare!
To find an empty nest;
And if your spirit linger there,
Still, love, I dare to find all bare!
They mock me now, those singing birds
That twitter overhead,—
They mock me with the very words
That then were left unsaid.
That twitter overhead,—
They mock me with the very words
That then were left unsaid.
The air grows heavy with their song,
Too thick with sound to breathe.
I weep, I weep, but cannot pray,—
Oh, birds, ye sing my soul away!
Too thick with sound to breathe.
I weep, I weep, but cannot pray,—
Oh, birds, ye sing my soul away!
175
SONG.
[Love came knocking at my door in the flowery month of May]
Love came knocking at my door in the flowery month of May,
'Twas the morning of the year, and the morning of the day;
He was a winsome boy,
And I a maiden coy,
But I followed him, I followed! for he drew me with the wile
Of his eyes, his words, and whispers, and the glamour of his smile.
'Twas the morning of the year, and the morning of the day;
He was a winsome boy,
And I a maiden coy,
But I followed him, I followed! for he drew me with the wile
Of his eyes, his words, and whispers, and the glamour of his smile.
Oh the merry laughing moments, oh the soft, the shining hours,
When I followed as he led me through his gardens and his bowers!
Love was a thing divine,
I was his, and he was mine;
So I followed him, I followed, could have followed till I died,
In the wake of his young glory, and the fulness of my pride.
When I followed as he led me through his gardens and his bowers!
Love was a thing divine,
I was his, and he was mine;
176
In the wake of his young glory, and the fulness of my pride.
Now the merry days are over, with the joy and pride and show;
Love has grown to his full stature; I am weary as I go.
Shamed is the golden head,
And the magic smile is fled;
For the dust and soil of earth
Mock the greatness of Love's birth;
But I follow, and if weeping I, though weeping, follow still,
With no magic and no glamour, but a faithful human will.
Love has grown to his full stature; I am weary as I go.
Shamed is the golden head,
And the magic smile is fled;
For the dust and soil of earth
Mock the greatness of Love's birth;
But I follow, and if weeping I, though weeping, follow still,
With no magic and no glamour, but a faithful human will.
Ay, I follow still, I follow, though no longer through the May,
Though the lingering dreams of morning with the morn have past away.
Now Love is no more glad,
Nay, his very smile is sad;
But he needs me even more
Than I needed him before;
So I follow, still I follow, and through all the darker seeming,
Love's true need of me is sweeter than his smile that held me dreaming.
Though the lingering dreams of morning with the morn have past away.
177
Nay, his very smile is sad;
But he needs me even more
Than I needed him before;
So I follow, still I follow, and through all the darker seeming,
Love's true need of me is sweeter than his smile that held me dreaming.
And when one day hand in hand we before God's gate shall stand,
And the gate shall open wide that we enter side byside,
We may gaze in glad surprise
Into one another's eyes,
Not to find a winsome boy,
Or a maiden vain and coy;
But two creatures shining bright
In the pure and keen love-light,
Of the patience and the faith
That have conquered more than death.
Then I follow love no longer, but I sink upon thy breast
To abide there hushed for ever in the joy of utter rest.
And the gate shall open wide that we enter side byside,
We may gaze in glad surprise
Into one another's eyes,
Not to find a winsome boy,
Or a maiden vain and coy;
But two creatures shining bright
In the pure and keen love-light,
Of the patience and the faith
That have conquered more than death.
Then I follow love no longer, but I sink upon thy breast
To abide there hushed for ever in the joy of utter rest.
| Gerard's Monument | |