The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan :: :: University of Virginia Library

Tell me, thou many-finger'd Frost,
Coming and going like a ghost
In leafless woods forsaken—
O Frost that o'er him lying low
Drawest the garment of the snow
From silver cloud-wings shaken,
And round bare boughs with strange device
Twinest fantastic leaves of ice—
When will Adon waken?
Lo, dawn by dawn I rise afar
Beside Apollo in his car,
And, far below us wreathing,
Thy fogs and mists are duskly curl'd
Round the white slumber of the world,
Like to its own deep breathing;
But crimson thro' the mist our light.
Foameth and freezeth, till by night
Snow-bosom'd hills we fade on—
The pallid god, at my desire,
Gives unto thee a breath of fire
To reach the lips of Adon.

2

Tell me, thou bare and wintry World,
Wherein the wingëd flowers are curl'd
Like pigmy spirits dozing—
O World, within whose lap he lies,
With thy quick earth upon his eyes,
In dim unseen reposing,
Husht underneath the wind and storm,
Still rosy-lipt in darkness warm—
Are Adon's eyes unclosing?
Lo, dawn by dawn I rise afar
Beside Apollo in his car,
Thro' voids of azure soaring,
And gazing down on regions dead,
With golden hair dishevellëd,
And claspëd hands imploring.
Wonderful creatures of the light
Hover above thee, hanging bright
Faint pictures glen and glade on:
The pallid god, at my desire,
Hideth in glimmering snows his fire,
To reach the sleep of Adon.

3

Tell me, thou spirit of the Sun,
Radiant-lock'd and awful one,
Strong, constant, unforsaking—
Sun, by whose shadier side I sit
And search thy face, and question it,
Conferring light and taking—
Whose fiery westward motion throws
The shadow-hours on his repose,—
Is my Adon waking?
Lo, dawn by dawn I rise afar
Beside thee in thy flaming car,
Thou ever-constant comer!
And flashing on the clouds that break
Around our path thy sunbeams make
A phantom of the summer.
O breathe upon the Moon, that she
May use her magic witchery
When snowy hills we fade on,
That, in the dark, when thou art gone,
She speed the resurrection,
And stir the sleep of Adon!

4

Tell me, O silver-wingëd Moon,
That glidest to melodious tune
Ice-sparkling skies on skies up,—
O Moon, that to the sunset gray,
Drinking faint light that fades away,
Liftest immortal eyes up,
And walking on, art thro' the night
Troubled to pain by that strange light,—
When will Adon rise up?
Lo, dawn by dawn I rise afar
Beside Apollo in his car,
Imploring sign or token
But night by night such pale peace beams
Upon his slumber, that it seems
Too beauteous to be broken!
O gentle goddess, be not cold—
But, some dim dawn, may we behold
New glory hill and glade on,
The leaves and flowers alive to bliss,
And, somewhat pale with thy last kiss,
The smiling face of Adon!