 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
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THE SUNSET-BIRD OF DOMINICA.
Dominica's fire-cleft summits
Rise from bluest of blue oceans;
Dominica's palms and plantains
Feel the trade-wind's mighty motions
Swaying with impetuous stress
The West Indian wilderness.
Rise from bluest of blue oceans;
Dominica's palms and plantains
Feel the trade-wind's mighty motions
Swaying with impetuous stress
The West Indian wilderness.
Tree-ferns wave their fans majestic,
Mangoes lift white-blossomed masses
Bright against the black abutments
Of volcanic mountain-passes;
Carrying with them up the height
Many a gorgeous parasite.
Mangoes lift white-blossomed masses
Bright against the black abutments
Of volcanic mountain-passes;
Carrying with them up the height
Many a gorgeous parasite.
Dominica's crater-cauldron
Seethes against its lava-beaches,
Boils in misty desolation:
Seldom foot its border reaches;
Seldom any traveler's eye
Penetrates its barriers high.
Seethes against its lava-beaches,
Boils in misty desolation:
Seldom foot its border reaches;
Seldom any traveler's eye
Penetrates its barriers high.
Over hidden precipices
Falls the unseen torrent's thunder;
Windy shrieks and sibilations
Fill the pathless gorge with wonder;
And the dusky Carib hears,
Cowering with mysterious fears.
Falls the unseen torrent's thunder;
Windy shrieks and sibilations
Fill the pathless gorge with wonder;
And the dusky Carib hears,
Cowering with mysterious fears.
“Hark!” The Northern hunter listens:
Down the jungles of the highland
Steals a melody unearthly,
Wavering over sea and island;
Can that tender music start
From the crater's hollow heart?
Down the jungles of the highland
Steals a melody unearthly,
Wavering over sea and island;
Can that tender music start
From the crater's hollow heart?
Floats the weird note onward, downward,
Flute-like, eloquent, complaining;
As of one afar off crying,
“Night is coming! Day is waning!”
Toward the voice the hunter glides,
Up the thorny mountain sides.
Flute-like, eloquent, complaining;
As of one afar off crying,
“Night is coming! Day is waning!”
Toward the voice the hunter glides,
Up the thorny mountain sides.
“Stay thee, stranger!” called the Carib;
“Vain to track a wandering spirit,
Bodiless as breeze of sunset.
'T is no living creature! hear it!
‘Day is waning!’ Without woe
None upon his track may go.”
“Vain to track a wandering spirit,
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'T is no living creature! hear it!
‘Day is waning!’ Without woe
None upon his track may go.”
Wailed along the hills the echo,
“Stay thee! stray not into danger!”
Smiling back from splintered ledges,
Up the beetling cliff the stranger
With the slanting sunbeam sped,
Lost in dark woods overhead.
“Stay thee! stray not into danger!”
Smiling back from splintered ledges,
Up the beetling cliff the stranger
With the slanting sunbeam sped,
Lost in dark woods overhead.
“Will he come again?” They shudder,
Into lengthening shadows peering;
Through the sudden veil of nightfall
Joyfully his footfall hearing;
There the dark-eyed hunter stands,
Sheltering something in his hands!
Into lengthening shadows peering;
Through the sudden veil of nightfall
Joyfully his footfall hearing;
There the dark-eyed hunter stands,
Sheltering something in his hands!
“Look! a gray bird is your spirit!
On his breast the sunset lingers,
Golden as the hour he sings in:
Touch him! stroke him with light fingers!
Still a spirit, though with wings
Shaped like other birds, he sings.”
On his breast the sunset lingers,
Golden as the hour he sings in:
Touch him! stroke him with light fingers!
Still a spirit, though with wings
Shaped like other birds, he sings.”
Need we sail to Indian islands,
That through turquoise oceans glisten,
For strange misinterpretations
Wherewith men to nature listen?
Throbs the air we breathe with good,
By dull hearts misunderstood.
That through turquoise oceans glisten,
For strange misinterpretations
Wherewith men to nature listen?
Throbs the air we breathe with good,
By dull hearts misunderstood.
Dearer is the voice from heaven
Warning us that life is waning,
When we know its accents human,
Joy of all the years remaining.—
So, across the seas, I heard
Dominica's sunset-bird.
Warning us that life is waning,
When we know its accents human,
Joy of all the years remaining.—
So, across the seas, I heard
Dominica's sunset-bird.
One of many new species of birds discovered in the Carribean Islands by Mr. Frederick A. Ober, of Beverly, Massachusetts, and added to the collection in the Smithsonian Institution. The cry of this bird, just before nightfall, which sounds like the words “Soleil coucher!” is supposed by the Caribs to be the voice of a spirit; and they believe that whoever tries to follow it will be led into some dreadful calamity.
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |