 | Poems |  |
221
ÆOLIAN HARP.
Is not the world too beautiful for thee,
Child of littleness, child of clay?
Thinkest thou skies will ever bend o'er thee,
Kind and patient as those of to-day?
Flowers their sweetness ever keep,
Night be prompt with dew and sleep,
Passions flow within the marge,
Madness care for custom's targe,
Wind, fire, water, spare to slay,
Brain exalt thee, hand obey,
Tame as the servants, the slaves of to-day?
Child of littleness, child of clay?
Thinkest thou skies will ever bend o'er thee,
Kind and patient as those of to-day?
Flowers their sweetness ever keep,
Night be prompt with dew and sleep,
Passions flow within the marge,
Madness care for custom's targe,
Wind, fire, water, spare to slay,
Brain exalt thee, hand obey,
Tame as the servants, the slaves of to-day?
We wait, we wait, we wait, we wait,
We lie in ambush for thy fate!
Is the end come at last?
The proud foolish dream past?
We are flinging off the yoke,
Thou art melting into smoke.
Dost thou feel the waking earth
Spurn thee with a terrible mirth?
As the mighty change kindles,
Hue fades, strength dwindles,
All the beauties, all the riches,
Vanish like a feast of witches!
We lie in ambush for thy fate!
Is the end come at last?
The proud foolish dream past?
222
Thou art melting into smoke.
Dost thou feel the waking earth
Spurn thee with a terrible mirth?
As the mighty change kindles,
Hue fades, strength dwindles,
All the beauties, all the riches,
Vanish like a feast of witches!
Is it in truth the revolt thou wert fearing,
Child of the infinite, child of hope?
Or is it the world but disappearing,
As thou soarest to loftier scope?
Child of the infinite, child of hope?
Or is it the world but disappearing,
As thou soarest to loftier scope?
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