 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1390
A SOUTHERN SINGER
WRITTEN IN MADISON CAWEIN'S “LYRICS AND IDYLS”
Herein are blown from out the South
Songs blithe as those of Pan's pursed mouth—
As sweet in voice as, in perfume,
The night-breath of magnolia-bloom.
Songs blithe as those of Pan's pursed mouth—
As sweet in voice as, in perfume,
The night-breath of magnolia-bloom.
Such sumptuous languor lures the sense—
Such luxury of indolence—
The eyes blur as a nymph's might blur,
With water-lilies watching her.
Such luxury of indolence—
The eyes blur as a nymph's might blur,
With water-lilies watching her.
You waken, thrilling at the trill
Of some wild bird that seems to spill
The silence full of winy drips
Of song that Fancy sips and sips.
Of some wild bird that seems to spill
The silence full of winy drips
Of song that Fancy sips and sips.
Betimes, in brambled lanes wherethrough
The chipmunk stripes himself from view,
You pause to lop a creamy spray
Of elder-blossoms by the way.
The chipmunk stripes himself from view,
You pause to lop a creamy spray
Of elder-blossoms by the way.
1391
Or where the morning dew is yet
Gray on the topmost rail, you set
A sudden palm and, vaulting, meet
Your vaulting shadow in the wheat.
Gray on the topmost rail, you set
A sudden palm and, vaulting, meet
Your vaulting shadow in the wheat.
On lordly swards, of suave incline,
Entessellate with shade and shine,
You shall misdoubt your lowly birth,
Clad on as one of princely worth:
Entessellate with shade and shine,
You shall misdoubt your lowly birth,
Clad on as one of princely worth:
The falcon on your wrist shall ride—
Your milk-white Arab side by side
With one of raven-black.—You fain
Would kiss the hand that holds the rein.
Your milk-white Arab side by side
With one of raven-black.—You fain
Would kiss the hand that holds the rein.
Nay, nay, Romancer! Poet! Seer
Sing us back home—from there to here:
Grant your high grace and wit, but we
Most honor your simplicity.—
Sing us back home—from there to here:
Grant your high grace and wit, but we
Most honor your simplicity.—
Herein are blown from out the South
Songs blithe as those of Pan's pursed mouth—
As sweet in voice as, in perfume,
The night-breath of magnolia-bloom.
Songs blithe as those of Pan's pursed mouth—
As sweet in voice as, in perfume,
The night-breath of magnolia-bloom.
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |