 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
250
FOREST HOME
O Forest-Mother, I have stayed
Too long away from thee;
Let me come home for these few hours
That from the world are free.
Too long away from thee;
Let me come home for these few hours
That from the world are free.
Oh! mother, they have saddened me
With all their foolish din;
Lowly I knock at thy green gate;
Dear mother, let me in.
With all their foolish din;
Lowly I knock at thy green gate;
Dear mother, let me in.
Down where the tumbled towers of rock
Their perilous stairs have made,
Holding the tough young hemlock boughs
For slender balustrade,
Their perilous stairs have made,
Holding the tough young hemlock boughs
For slender balustrade,
I find my pleasant home, far off
From all men say and do—
Far as the world from which we flash
When some swift dream breaks through.
From all men say and do—
Far as the world from which we flash
When some swift dream breaks through.
Again the grave old hemlock trees
Stretch down their feathery palms,
And murmur up against the blue
Their solemn breath of psalms;
Stretch down their feathery palms,
And murmur up against the blue
Their solemn breath of psalms;
251
And here my little brothers are,
The sparrow and the bee,
The wren that almost used to dare
To perch upon my knee;
The sparrow and the bee,
The wren that almost used to dare
To perch upon my knee;
The dust of sunshine under foot,
The darkness over head,
The sliding gleam that swings along
The unseen spider's thread;
The darkness over head,
The sliding gleam that swings along
The unseen spider's thread;
The low arched path beneath the boughs,
And half-way down it laid
A falling fringe of sun-lit leaves
Against the roof of shade;
And half-way down it laid
A falling fringe of sun-lit leaves
Against the roof of shade;
The sunshine clasping round both sides
A broken cedar old,
Rimming its shaft so dark and wet
In green and massy gold,
A broken cedar old,
Rimming its shaft so dark and wet
In green and massy gold,
In hollows where the evening glooms
Rest drowsily all day,
In the blue shadows of the pines,
Sprinkled with golden spray.
Rest drowsily all day,
In the blue shadows of the pines,
Sprinkled with golden spray.
Dimpled red cheeks of berries hid
A wary eye discerns,
And timid little pale-faced flowers
Peep through the latticed ferns.
A wary eye discerns,
And timid little pale-faced flowers
Peep through the latticed ferns.
252
O Mother, they are proud and blind
Who from all these would stay;
Yet do not scorn them unforgiven,
But woo them day by day.
Who from all these would stay;
Yet do not scorn them unforgiven,
But woo them day by day.
Let all sweet winds from all fair dells,
And whispering breath of pine,
Pursue and lure the wanderer
Back to thy rest divine.
And whispering breath of pine,
Pursue and lure the wanderer
Back to thy rest divine.
If I must build in Babel still
Till that last summons come,
Oh! call me when the hour is near,
And let me die at home.
Till that last summons come,
Oh! call me when the hour is near,
And let me die at home.
'T were sweet, I know, to stay; but so
'T were sweetest to depart,
Thy cool, still hand upon my face,
Thy silence in my heart.
'T were sweetest to depart,
Thy cool, still hand upon my face,
Thy silence in my heart.
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |