 | Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset |  |
110
AFTER MANY DAYS
I sit beside my flying loom,
I toss the shuttle to and fro;
The sunlight floods the quiet room,
Making the pattern gleam and glow.
Without, autumnal glories shine;
Through warp and woof rich shadows play.
Would God it were more fair and fine,
This web that groweth day by day!
I toss the shuttle to and fro;
The sunlight floods the quiet room,
Making the pattern gleam and glow.
Without, autumnal glories shine;
Through warp and woof rich shadows play.
Would God it were more fair and fine,
This web that groweth day by day!
I weave and weave till day is done;
But who will bleach the linen white,
By alchemy of rain and sun,
Hot summer noons, and dewy night?
And who its shining length will wear?
Under its folds what heart will hide
Its stress of passion or of prayer,
Of wordless bliss or love denied?
But who will bleach the linen white,
By alchemy of rain and sun,
Hot summer noons, and dewy night?
And who its shining length will wear?
Under its folds what heart will hide
Its stress of passion or of prayer,
Of wordless bliss or love denied?
111
I plant a tree beside my gate;
Slowly it rises, fair and tall;
With prophecy of royal state
It towers above the old gray wall!
But who will see it in its prime?
What lovers seek its leafy ways?
What bard unborn, with song and rhyme,
Wed its green boughs to deathless lays?
Slowly it rises, fair and tall;
With prophecy of royal state
It towers above the old gray wall!
But who will see it in its prime?
What lovers seek its leafy ways?
What bard unborn, with song and rhyme,
Wed its green boughs to deathless lays?
I build a mansion wide and fair;
I rear its towers of fretted stone;
But who shall breathe its happy air?
Who call its sheltering roof his own?
What guests shall throng its chambers fine?
What feet youth's joyous measures tread,
When I have drained life's last red wine,
And grass grows green above my head?
I rear its towers of fretted stone;
But who shall breathe its happy air?
Who call its sheltering roof his own?
What guests shall throng its chambers fine?
What feet youth's joyous measures tread,
When I have drained life's last red wine,
And grass grows green above my head?
On the soft air I loose a song;
From pole to pole it drifteth far;
It floateth fast, it floateth long,
Inconsequent as breezes are!
But who will hear it as it flies
Through shadowy spaces, vast and dim,
And lure it from the lonely skies,
When I have done with song and hymn?
From pole to pole it drifteth far;
It floateth fast, it floateth long,
Inconsequent as breezes are!
112
Through shadowy spaces, vast and dim,
And lure it from the lonely skies,
When I have done with song and hymn?
| Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset | |