 | A Book of Dreams |  |
7
FOUR WATCHES.
NOON.
Apple-blossom, apple-blossom—all the low boughs pass
Rosy overhead, letting the deep sky through;
Dark the hyacinth bows above the long lush grass,
Hardly waves the west wind from the far-off fields of blue.
Rosy overhead, letting the deep sky through;
Dark the hyacinth bows above the long lush grass,
Hardly waves the west wind from the far-off fields of blue.
All around, the thrushes, all around the orchard bower,
Sing so loud, so loud no other voice is heard;—
All around, the humming bees weave out the golden hour
In a chain of filmy rustlings;—softly, softly stirred;
Sing so loud, so loud no other voice is heard;—
All around, the humming bees weave out the golden hour
In a chain of filmy rustlings;—softly, softly stirred;
8
Silent falls a shower of petals white and rosy,
Warm upon my neck and arms and face;—
Soft, soft again, another shower drifts slowly:
—Why am I standing all alone within this place?
Warm upon my neck and arms and face;—
Soft, soft again, another shower drifts slowly:
—Why am I standing all alone within this place?
Heart, my heart, why beatest thou? The sudden white and pink
Over my face why waver they, and pass?
Can I not look upward? Wherefore start and shrink
At the coming—what is coming? through the grass.
Over my face why waver they, and pass?
Can I not look upward? Wherefore start and shrink
At the coming—what is coming? through the grass.
9
SUNSET.
Roses, red roses,—in a low wall at my feet,
Roses all behind me, higher than my head,
Roses on either hand, crowding upwards full and sweet,
And far in front the sunset, over heaven out-spread.
Roses all behind me, higher than my head,
Roses on either hand, crowding upwards full and sweet,
And far in front the sunset, over heaven out-spread.
Crimson sinks the sun in a burning crystal sea,
Crimson the cloudlet isles float over the stainless glow,
Crimson the breathless earth enkindles suddenly
In the swift and sweeping wave of the heavens' overflow.
Crimson the cloudlet isles float over the stainless glow,
Crimson the breathless earth enkindles suddenly
In the swift and sweeping wave of the heavens' overflow.
All one way to the west the roses hearken and turn,
Far away are the heavens; but the quiver and thrill are near;—
Is it the flame in the west, that my cheeks so crimson burn?
Why am I all alone among the roses here?
Far away are the heavens; but the quiver and thrill are near;—
Is it the flame in the west, that my cheeks so crimson burn?
Why am I all alone among the roses here?
10
Heart, my heart, be still! Why through the stillness glowing
Beat so loud, so fast, I cannot hear a tread?
Why does the low light dazzle my eyes from knowing
Who is coming near and nearer where the roses are so red?
Beat so loud, so fast, I cannot hear a tread?
Why does the low light dazzle my eyes from knowing
Who is coming near and nearer where the roses are so red?
11
MIDNIGHT.
Orange-blossom, orange-blossom,—all the Southern night
Lit by the large moon, over the purple seas,
Out of the purple heaven,—all the earth unfolded white,
And the white flowers shining, sparkling on the trees.
Lit by the large moon, over the purple seas,
Out of the purple heaven,—all the earth unfolded white,
And the white flowers shining, sparkling on the trees.
Heavy and warm with fragrance, the air of the night is still,
Down the white walls of my chamber the shadow is stealing soon;
The frogs croak out of the pools,—over scented grove and hill
White miles of the orange-blossom meet the whiteness of the moon.
Down the white walls of my chamber the shadow is stealing soon;
The frogs croak out of the pools,—over scented grove and hill
White miles of the orange-blossom meet the whiteness of the moon.
Fast sleep the shadows on the floor of silver thrown,
Not a bright leaf rustling low, or brushed aside;—
All alone in the shadow,—am I all alone?
And why are the doors and windows open all so wide?
Not a bright leaf rustling low, or brushed aside;—
12
And why are the doors and windows open all so wide?
Heart, my heart, breathe free! wherefore sink or swoon?
What is there but silence, but sweetness in the hour?
Am I so white, so white, with the glory of the moon?
Dare I not look round me through the maze of orange-flower?
What is there but silence, but sweetness in the hour?
Am I so white, so white, with the glory of the moon?
Dare I not look round me through the maze of orange-flower?
13
SUNRISE.
Passion-flower, passion-flower,—through the breaking grey
The wreathen, pallid blooms look in through the window pane;
Opening, and opened, and faded, and dying before the day,
The wan sprays beaten with wind and wet with the pouring rain.
The wreathen, pallid blooms look in through the window pane;
Opening, and opened, and faded, and dying before the day,
The wan sprays beaten with wind and wet with the pouring rain.
Pale their starry faces crowd the window; they beat and call
Against it, waxen-pale, with the passionate purple streak;
Out beyond them the sky in the east stretches ghostly pale, and all
The shelterless waste of wind drives blind and bleak.
Against it, waxen-pale, with the passionate purple streak;
Out beyond them the sky in the east stretches ghostly pale, and all
The shelterless waste of wind drives blind and bleak.
The cold pale light is here, but all is misty and far;—
Am I here all alone? Why is it I cannot see?
Or are there many here?—no matter now if there are,—
Or is there only one, O hand that is holding me!
Am I here all alone? Why is it I cannot see?
14
Or is there only one, O hand that is holding me!
Heart, my heart, be still! why, through the dawning early,
So faint, so cold, so slow, with all the passion past?
Why are my eyes so dim, I know, yet see not clearly
Who is coming,—who is come—who is with me now at last?
So faint, so cold, so slow, with all the passion past?
Why are my eyes so dim, I know, yet see not clearly
Who is coming,—who is come—who is with me now at last?
| A Book of Dreams | |