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 | The white sail and other poems |  |
91
ON SOME OLD MUSIC.
To lie beside a stream, upon the sod
At ease, while weary shepherds homeward plod,
And feel benignly by, as daylight mellows,
The mountains in their weathering period;
Aye so, with silence shod
To lie in depth of grass with man's meek fellows,
The cattle large and calm, aware of God,
At ease, while weary shepherds homeward plod,
And feel benignly by, as daylight mellows,
The mountains in their weathering period;
Aye so, with silence shod
To lie in depth of grass with man's meek fellows,
The cattle large and calm, aware of God,
And, keen as if to flesh the spirit sprang,
To hear,—O but to hear that silvern clang
Of young hale melody! and hither rally
The thrill, the aspiration, and the pang
Again, as once it rang
Sovereign and clear thro' all the Saco valley,
Whose slaves were we that heard, and he that sang!
To hear,—O but to hear that silvern clang
Of young hale melody! and hither rally
The thrill, the aspiration, and the pang
Again, as once it rang
Sovereign and clear thro' all the Saco valley,
Whose slaves were we that heard, and he that sang!
Happy the spot, the hour, the spanning strain
Precious and far, the rainbow of the rain,
The seal of patience, dark endeavor's summing,
The heaven-bright close of Pergolese's pain!
Sighs bid it back in vain,
Nor win its peer, till craftsmen aftercoming
Lost art, lost heart, from shipwrecked years regain.
Precious and far, the rainbow of the rain,
92
The heaven-bright close of Pergolese's pain!
Sighs bid it back in vain,
Nor win its peer, till craftsmen aftercoming
Lost art, lost heart, from shipwrecked years regain.
How, like an angel, it effaced the crime,
The moil and heat of our tempestuous time,
And brought from dewier air, to us who waited,
The breath of peace, the healing breath sublime!
As falls, at midnight's chime
To an old pilgrim, plodding on belated,
The thought of Love's remote sunshining prime.
The moil and heat of our tempestuous time,
And brought from dewier air, to us who waited,
The breath of peace, the healing breath sublime!
As falls, at midnight's chime
To an old pilgrim, plodding on belated,
The thought of Love's remote sunshining prime.
There flits upon the wind's wing, as we gaze,
Our northern springtime, virgin-green three days;
The racy water shallowing, the glory
Of jonquils strewn, the wafted apple-sprays:
O let it be thy praise,
Child-song too lovely and too transitory!
Thou art as they; thy feet have gone their ways.
Our northern springtime, virgin-green three days;
The racy water shallowing, the glory
Of jonquils strewn, the wafted apple-sprays:
O let it be thy praise,
Child-song too lovely and too transitory!
Thou art as they; thy feet have gone their ways.
O beauty unassailable! O bride
Of memory! while yet thou didst abide
The yester joy was ours, the joy to-morrow,
Life's brimming whole: and since to earth denied,
Soft ebbed thy dreamy tide,
To us the first, the full, the only sorrow,
Wild as when Abel out of Eden died.
Of memory! while yet thou didst abide
93
Life's brimming whole: and since to earth denied,
Soft ebbed thy dreamy tide,
To us the first, the full, the only sorrow,
Wild as when Abel out of Eden died.
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