Flower o' the thorn A book of wayside verse: By John Payne |
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| II. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. | V. THE HUNGER OF THE HILLS. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
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 | Flower o' the thorn |  |
117
V. THE HUNGER OF THE HILLS.
WITH you, hills, with you,
In the virginal air,
In the diamond shimmer of Dawn,
As you tower in the silence transcendent, like pillars of prayer,
Aspiration incorporate, Life from Death gendered anew,
From the darkness bygone
White and rose as a dove to the firmament soaring,
In ecstasy rises my spirit, itself like a fountain outpouring.
In the virginal air,
In the diamond shimmer of Dawn,
As you tower in the silence transcendent, like pillars of prayer,
Aspiration incorporate, Life from Death gendered anew,
From the darkness bygone
White and rose as a dove to the firmament soaring,
In ecstasy rises my spirit, itself like a fountain outpouring.
With you, at the hour
Of the summer noon-sleep,
When heavy with heat is the plain
And you, like to shepherds amidward their slumbering sheep,
You wake, when all else 'neath the scourge of the sun-tyrant cower
From his rutilant rain
And you only stand fast, his oppression rebating,
My soul with you shares in your vigil of solitude, watching and waiting.
Of the summer noon-sleep,
When heavy with heat is the plain
And you, like to shepherds amidward their slumbering sheep,
You wake, when all else 'neath the scourge of the sun-tyrant cower
From his rutilant rain
And you only stand fast, his oppression rebating,
My soul with you shares in your vigil of solitude, watching and waiting.
How sore to you, hills,
As you glow on heaven's verge
In the gloaming, as sentinels stern,
As you thrust through the storm-clouds of evening and tower o'er the surge
And the surf of the sunsetting ocean, unstirred, like the sills
Of cathedrals etern,
On whose altars the fire of the phantasy burneth,
My heart through the haze of the heat and the dream of the distance out-yearneth!
As you glow on heaven's verge
In the gloaming, as sentinels stern,
As you thrust through the storm-clouds of evening and tower o'er the surge
And the surf of the sunsetting ocean, unstirred, like the sills
Of cathedrals etern,
On whose altars the fire of the phantasy burneth,
My heart through the haze of the heat and the dream of the distance out-yearneth!
118
With you, in the dead
And the stillness of Night,
When the moon in the welkin shines wide,
When, under the sorrowful spell of her life-numbing light,
Earth lies without stir, white and cold, on her couch silverspread,
As a death-stricken bride,
And you alone live in the death-sheen are shining,
My thought over Life and Death soars to the regions of Peace unrepining.
And the stillness of Night,
When the moon in the welkin shines wide,
When, under the sorrowful spell of her life-numbing light,
Earth lies without stir, white and cold, on her couch silverspread,
As a death-stricken bride,
And you alone live in the death-sheen are shining,
My thought over Life and Death soars to the regions of Peace unrepining.
| Flower o' the thorn | |