1. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
2. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
23. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
23. |
24. |
25. |
26. |
27. |
28. |
29. |
30. |
31. |
32. |
33. |
34. |
35. |
36. |
37. |
38. |
39. |
40. |
41. |
42. |
43. |
44. |
45. |
46. |
47. |
48. |
49. |
50. |
51. |
52. |
53. |
54. |
55. |
56. |
57. |
58. |
59. |
60. |
61. |
62. |
63. |
64. |
65. |
66. |
67. |
SECOND SIGHT |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
The poems of Madison Cawein | ||
111
SECOND SIGHT
They lean their faces to me through
Green windows of the woods;
Their cool throats sweet with honey-dew
Beneath their leafy hoods—
No dream they dream but hath been true
Here in the solitudes.
Green windows of the woods;
Their cool throats sweet with honey-dew
Beneath their leafy hoods—
No dream they dream but hath been true
Here in the solitudes.
Star trillium, in the underbrush,
In whom Spring bares her face;
Sun eglantine, that breathes the blush
Of Summer's quiet grace;
Moon mallow, in whom lives the hush
Of Autumn's tragic pace.
In whom Spring bares her face;
Sun eglantine, that breathes the blush
Of Summer's quiet grace;
Moon mallow, in whom lives the hush
Of Autumn's tragic pace.
This one hath heard the dryad's sighs
Behind the covering bark;
That one hath felt the satyr's eyes
Gleam through the bosky dark;
And one hath seen the Naiad rise
In waters all a-spark.
Behind the covering bark;
That one hath felt the satyr's eyes
Gleam through the bosky dark;
And one hath seen the Naiad rise
In waters all a-spark.
112
I bend my soul unto them, stilled
In worship man hath lost:—
The old-world myths that science killed
Are living things almost
To me through these whose forms are filled
With Beauty's pagan ghost.
In worship man hath lost:—
The old-world myths that science killed
Are living things almost
To me through these whose forms are filled
With Beauty's pagan ghost.
And with new eyes I seem to see
The world these live within,—
A shuttered world of mystery,
Where unreal forms begin
Real forms of ideality
That have no unreal kin.
The world these live within,—
A shuttered world of mystery,
Where unreal forms begin
Real forms of ideality
That have no unreal kin.
The poems of Madison Cawein | ||