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PART IV
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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4. PART IV

A SONG FOR DOROTHEA, ACROSS THE SEA

A song for you, my darling,
For your own, dear, only sake.
You bid me sing—so does the spring
Bid the birds awake,
And quick with molten music the dewy branches quake.
A song for you, my darling,
To follow you all the day;
And in sweet sleep the song shall keep
Singing along the way,
Through dreamland's silver meadows with golden lilies gay.
A song for you, my darling,
For those deep and darkling eyes,
That stedfast shine as the stars divine
Bright in the midnight skies,
When the winds blow the clouds from heaven, and we gaze with a glad surprise.
A song for you, my darling,
A song for that faithful heart
That as true abides as the throbbing tides.
Tho' half a world apart—
So far away is the girl I sing, with only a lover's art.

278

A BLIND POET

Call him not blind
Whose keen, anointed sight,
Pierced every secret of the heart, the mind,
The day, the night.

ON A WOMAN SEEN UPON THE STAGE

(“TESS,” AS PLAYED BY MRS. FISKE)

Alas, poor, fated, passionate, shivering thing!
So through brief life some dagger-haunted king
Wears a bright sorrow. Thus her life rehearse:
She was a woman; this her crown, her curse.

OF ONE WHO NEITHER SEES NOR HEARS

(HELEN KELLER)

She lives in light, not shadow;
Not silence, but the sound
Which thrills the stars of heaven
And trembles from the ground.
She breathes a finer ether,
Beholds a keener sun;
In her supernal being
Music and light are one.
Unknown the subtile senses
That lead her through the day;
Love, light, and song and color
Come by another way.

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Sight brings she to the seeing,
New song to those that hear;
Her braver spirit sounding
Where mortals fail and fear.
She at the heart of being
Serene and glad doth dwell;
Spirit with scarce a veil of flesh;
A soul made visible.
Or is it only a lovely girl
With flowers at her maiden breast?
—Helen, here is a book of song
From the poet who loves you best.

FOR THE ESPOUSALS OF JEANNE ROUMANILLE, OF AVIGNON

While joy-bells are ringing
And the high Fates meet thee,
Child of the South, and of singing,
Singing I greet thee.
In thy chaplet one flower
From a far world! Wilt wear it?
Rich tho' thy land, and this hour,
Thou may'st not forbear it;
Thou wilt welcome and win it;
It will breathe on, caress thee;
For the fame of thy father is in it;
His lover doth bless thee!
His lover—the lover of thee, O Provence;
Thy blue skies, thy gray mountains;
The heart-beat of Freedom and France
Shakes thy rivers and fountains,

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And makes thee a dream and a passion
In the souls of all poets forever,
While from thy fire thou dost fashion
Beauty and music and art that shall perish, O, never!

TO MARIE JOSEPHINE GIRARD, QUEEN OF THE FÉLIBRES

ON HER WEDDING-DAY

Queens have there been of many a fair domain
Of arts, of hearts, of lands.
Thy sovereignty a threefold realm commands
Who o'er Provence, and Poetry, and Love dost reign.

INSCRIPTION FOR A TOWER IN FLORENCE

(WRITTEN FOR THE CHATELAINE)

I

Four-walled is my tower:
The first wall is for the dawn that comes from Vallombrosa,
The second wall is for the day that fills with soft fire the green vase of Tuscany,
The third is for the evening twilight that darkens from the Valley of the Arno,
The fourth is for the night and the stars of night.

II

Four-walled is my tower:
One wall is for the South and the sun,
One is for the West and for memory,

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One is for the North and the star that never sets,
And one is for the East and a faith that fares beyond the stars.

III

Four-walled is my tower:
One wall is for the Spring and for Hope,
One is for Summer and for Love,
One is for Autumn and the Harvest,
One is for Winter and for Waiting.

IV

Four-walled is my tower:
One is for Childhood and the Innocence of Life,
The second is for Youth and the Joy of Life,
The third is for Manhood and the Fullness of Life,
The fourth is for Old Age and the Wisdom of Life.

V

Four-walled is my tower:
A Rock for Strength,
A Hight for Seeing,
A Beacon for the Stranger,
And a Hearth for Friendship.
Four-walled is my tower
On the Hill of Bellosguardo.

WITH A VOLUME OF DANTE

O thou whom Virgil and thy Beatrice
Through life and death, Hell, Purgatory, Heaven,
Led upward into unimagined light—
Lead thou this soul the way thou, too, didst go
Unto the Light that lights the eternal stars!