 | Complete works (1925-27) |  |
AFTER MANY DAYS
As though the billows of the breaking years
Rolled back reversed,
And sounds and sights came back on eyes and ears
Unknown since first
Youth quenched at fountains bright as angels' tears
His great glad thirst,
Rolled back reversed,
And sounds and sights came back on eyes and ears
Unknown since first
Youth quenched at fountains bright as angels' tears
His great glad thirst,
Deep drinking down dreams of transfigured grief
And figured joy,
And gave his heart up as a shaken leaf,
The first wind's toy,
To the first wind of song, with all belief
That fires a boy,
And figured joy,
And gave his heart up as a shaken leaf,
The first wind's toy,
To the first wind of song, with all belief
That fires a boy,
Whom hope and passionate wonder and delight
Thrill as they throng
Confused and consummated; so to-night
Before the strong
Bright wind of memory wakening with the bright
Keen sound of song
Thrill as they throng
Confused and consummated; so to-night
Before the strong
Bright wind of memory wakening with the bright
Keen sound of song
My spirit spreads full sail to take again
That old sweet sense,
Which yet is strange and is not: now as then,
For all the dense
Years interposed with change of times and men
And things passed hence,
That old sweet sense,
Which yet is strange and is not: now as then,
For all the dense
Years interposed with change of times and men
And things passed hence,
98
I know the joy known first when years were less
By full a score,
And find the same song's very loveliness
Beloved before
As bright and sweet and fit for praise to bless
As then of yore.
By full a score,
And find the same song's very loveliness
Beloved before
As bright and sweet and fit for praise to bless
As then of yore.
No praise may give sweet song a blessing worth
The gifts it gives,
Joy, passion, pity brighter-eyed than mirth,
Whose heart forgives
The painless pain that seems not born of earth
Where scarce it lives,
The gifts it gives,
Joy, passion, pity brighter-eyed than mirth,
Whose heart forgives
The painless pain that seems not born of earth
Where scarce it lives,
The soft swift pang that hurts not; these the years,
Change not nor slay:
The same sense gathers what the same soul hears
The same song say,
As though the day when first it thrilled our ears
Were yesterday.
Change not nor slay:
The same sense gathers what the same soul hears
The same song say,
As though the day when first it thrilled our ears
Were yesterday.
May 23, 1881.
| Complete works (1925-27) | |