 | A Sculptor and Other Poems |  |
133
ONE SWALLOW.
We are very glad to-day and lift our praises,
For, with eyes that lookt out long and anxiously,
While the cutting wind blew sharp against our faces,
This one swallow did we see.
For, with eyes that lookt out long and anxiously,
While the cutting wind blew sharp against our faces,
This one swallow did we see.
O thou blessed swallow, matter not thou reach us
Travel-faint and tir'd, with draggled plumage wet;
Through the winter-awe thou comest now to teach us
Of a spring we know not yet.
Travel-faint and tir'd, with draggled plumage wet;
Through the winter-awe thou comest now to teach us
Of a spring we know not yet.
Yes, to-day has set us free from that oppressive
Going softly we had kept so very long,
And we loose the strain of new-born joy excessive
In a rain of tears and song.
Going softly we had kept so very long,
And we loose the strain of new-born joy excessive
In a rain of tears and song.
But “One Swallow does not make a Summer,” say ye,
“Earth in dreary twilight lieth veil'd as yet;
Many a weary wind must blow its blast ere may ye
Seek the nascent violet.”
“Earth in dreary twilight lieth veil'd as yet;
Many a weary wind must blow its blast ere may ye
Seek the nascent violet.”
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Would ye quench with that drear adage joy that quickens
In a triumph through our whole lives once again;
Till the spirit, shorn of comfort, quails and sickens
For your biting frost and rain?
In a triumph through our whole lives once again;
Till the spirit, shorn of comfort, quails and sickens
For your biting frost and rain?
Nay, ye cannot take our holy joyaunce from us;
Nay, ye cannot make the anointed eyesight dim
Of the trustful eyes that waited God's good promise
Which they had received of Him.
Nay, ye cannot make the anointed eyesight dim
Of the trustful eyes that waited God's good promise
Which they had received of Him.
Ye have only seen to-day one swallow flying
From the sunny southern land where Summer is;
But we know they come in flights with that undying
Summer greater far than this.
From the sunny southern land where Summer is;
But we know they come in flights with that undying
Summer greater far than this.
O the beauty and the joy that passeth telling!
O the time of singing birds that soon shall come,
When the trees put forth their leaves of fairest smelling,
And the brooks no more are dumb!
O the time of singing birds that soon shall come,
When the trees put forth their leaves of fairest smelling,
And the brooks no more are dumb!
Oh, we take the blessed guerdon none receiveth
Save whose soul 'gainst doubting's bitter breath can prove
That sweet grace which all things hopeth and believeth,
Not credulity, but love.
Save whose soul 'gainst doubting's bitter breath can prove
That sweet grace which all things hopeth and believeth,
Not credulity, but love.
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