 | Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset |  |
100
FOR A CHRISTENING
Blow softly, winds of the South!
Skies of the South, bend low!
Sparkle, ye radiant waters,
In the sunset's tender glow!
Skies of the South, bend low!
Sparkle, ye radiant waters,
In the sunset's tender glow!
Keep watch and ward, O palm-trees!
Oaks, spread your branches wide!
O sentinel pine-trees, let your strength
Like the strength of the hills abide!
Oaks, spread your branches wide!
O sentinel pine-trees, let your strength
Like the strength of the hills abide!
Disks of the Cherokee roses,
Gleam from your emerald bars!
O jasmines, swing your censers
In the light of your golden stars!
Gleam from your emerald bars!
O jasmines, swing your censers
In the light of your golden stars!
101
Fill the air, ye joyous wild birds,
With a glad, sweet roundelay,
For a little child is given
To the Lord Christ to-day!
With a glad, sweet roundelay,
For a little child is given
To the Lord Christ to-day!
Ah, what shall I bring to thee,
Child, who shall bear my name
When I shall lie unheeding
Or love or praise or blame;
Child, who shall bear my name
When I shall lie unheeding
Or love or praise or blame;
Who shall speak when I am silent;
Who, when I lie deaf, shall hear
This dear earth's song of triumph,
And its hymns of lofty cheer;
Who, when I lie deaf, shall hear
This dear earth's song of triumph,
And its hymns of lofty cheer;
Who shall see my roses bloom,
And my snow-white lilies gleam,
In the sunlight and the starlight,
When I sleep without a dream?
And my snow-white lilies gleam,
In the sunlight and the starlight,
When I sleep without a dream?
Nay, little child, forgive me,
Nor think the strain too sad;
One life must follow another,
But earth shall still be glad!
Nor think the strain too sad;
102
But earth shall still be glad!
Evening must follow morning;
But the morn shall still be gay
With splendor of rose and purple,
And the pomp of glorious day!
But the morn shall still be gay
With splendor of rose and purple,
And the pomp of glorious day!
And had I the mystic token,
I would weave a spell so rare,
It should be like a holy talisman,
Strong with the strength of prayer,
I would weave a spell so rare,
It should be like a holy talisman,
Strong with the strength of prayer,
To charm thee from every sorrow,
To keep thee from every ill,
And with costliest wine of blessing
Thy waiting cup to fill!
To keep thee from every ill,
And with costliest wine of blessing
Thy waiting cup to fill!
| Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset | |