University of Virginia Library


169

THIRD MOVEMENT. Wedding Music.

If in melody
Pure truth were spoken,
If on harps of glee
All dark-eyed falling rays to shimmering stars were broken,
Then were things
Flames with wings
Lightly in one another floating, as a skylark sings.
Yes, each ripe morn
Blown from a silver horn
Would wreathe itself in harmony of love for souls new born;
Each heart-drop sorrow-drawn
Would melt
As crystal flute-notes felt
In pulse of dove-like flight o'er buoyant symphonies of dawn.
So star-browed angels fly
On wings of echoing notes
To some far Alpine call of a hero's horn that floats
Down blue-lit corridors of sky;

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Fly in wide sympathetic rings, and pause, and hark
To the new-strung chorded rim of the ocean's arc
Where three white ships like breathless swallows are skimming by.
As when moons
Through flooded heaven
Trail trumpet-petalled tunes
In silver tendrils o'er the diamond trellis of the astral seven,
So this flight
Of a tragic night
Flashes a radiant message to the farthest nebulæ of light;—
Yea, unseen spheres
Sweeps in its song of years
For crested choral hosts aflame with their organ-pipes of spears,
Spears of auroral rose
That quiver
Like sunsets on a river,
Or the crimson-hearted song that bursts when a lotus blossom blows.
O listening silver sphere,
What do you hear
When the round blue shell of the universe is curled at your ear?

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What have the comets done
To the lips of the sun?
What whispers
Of penitent meek lispers
Steal to your far confessional like the sigh of a dove-eyed nun?
Low bells
Now twinkle through the sky like stars from dimpled wells.
Fair white-winged maidens stand
Who fling the trailing gauze of their torches wide
O'er the delicate fern-like limbs of a virgin land,
Of an innocent dreaming bride.
O, unkissed cheek of a moon that the pillows of spaces hide!
O golden tresses of autumn leaves outspread!
O spicy breeze that sighs from a maiden heart,
They smile as they beckon a strange white prince to part
The foaming lace of thy bed.
Dear patient bride of Time,
For thee the unborn planets dream they chime;
As Orphic melody
That floats upon an unsuspected harmony;
As a babe's eye uncloses
In wonder at a waving mystery of clustered roses;

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As if sighs
Of sense first won in losing Paradise!
As if stars
With hearts were throbbing,
As if silver bars
In quivering minor melody of love were sobbing,
So the curve
Where white ships swerve
Sweeps with a tremulous moon-edged kiss to the lips of a naked nerve;
And startled miles
Dreaming of love's strange smiles
With a shiver twang the emerald harp of their thousand isles;—
And bridal torches burn
Like eyes
O'er jewelled lawns of skies
Where laughing angels dance as light as the tiptoe dew on a fern.
O dance as light
As a fawn, sweet night!
And let the starlight bring
The echo of the melody you sing.
The liquid metre
Of wind-swept pearl
Where cloud-nymphs bathe
In an upland tarn

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Is clear as the ripple
Of nights that swathe
The rounded limbs
Of a white moon-girl.
Sweet as the twitter
Of Pleiad swallows
That build gold nests
In the purple eaves,
The placid hours
With dove-like breasts
Their love are cooing
In dark cool hollows.
And nebulous milk
Of blue-veined skies
That feeds twin orbs
In the lap of dawn
Is pure as the fire
The soul absorbs
From the love-lit font
Of the virgin's eyes.
Ah, hero, drink thy fill
Of the fiery breath of God's will!
Upon thine ears
Converge
Through whispering galleries of the years
The murmurs of the surge

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Where swooning lipless voices
Clamor for rebirth.
Like a waked god rejoices
This captain of yon caravel of earth.
He leaps upon the rainbow bridge of hope, and scans far seas
Through star-lensed mysteries.
No spirit realm
Is stranger to his helm.
The peal
Of his trumpet cry
Cuts like a keel
Upon Eternity.
Bring scarlet lilies
That wander breathless
O'er Martian meadows
In fluted fire!
And kneel in the hush
Of Lunar shadows;
And spin gold crowns
For a hero deathless!
Where leaping shuttles
Of meteors pattern
The pale brocade
Of the astral film
Now tangle his hair
With diamond braid,

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And twine his fingers
With rings of Saturn!
And soft as feathers
Of suns that hover
O'er milky waters
Where star-maids hide,
Now bare your bosoms,
Uranian daughters,
To pillow the brow
Of your sleeping lover!
So shall we set him on a polar throne,
And lay his hand upon earth's loosened zone.—O bliss
Of a martyr's wedding-kiss!
Hath not each Christ who whispers down the years
Seen triumph blurred through halo-crowns of tears?
As if a truth-swept burning glass should melt
With the concentrated agony it felt?
O agony of tears, now blessed as wine!
Immortals drink thee with a sob divine.
And Bodhisattwa, clad with tainted flesh,
Crowned with the sting of blood-warm sins that mesh
Their diamond-hearted wills, o'ertop the world.
Like unseen germs in pulp of fruit-cells curled
Their thoughts swell rooted in the brains of kings.
The very heavens are stirring with their wings
Of rosy-hued idea. The Easts and Wests

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Are held in their two hands; and on their breasts
Lie child-eyed prophecies of faiths and creeds;
And new-born worlds are twined like crystal symphonies of beads.
Ah, play on the sorted reeds
Of plaintive years that slip
Like yearning beads
Of deep unutterable prayer
From a holy lip!
And dance
O'er crystal slabs of air
As light as the gossamer trip
Of million-footed Chance!
Come, play on the flutes
Of tempered eons!
Come, dance on the pebbles
Of time-worn suns!
Let young moons pipe
With their silver trebles!
Let comets prance
To the earth's proud pæans!
Shoot hymns of lightning,
O maids with torches,
Through unploughed tracks
Where the planets race!

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Bow down, ye Lords
Of the Zodiacs,
While thunder rolls
Through your pillared porches!
To the silken tent
The bridegroom flashes
As a star-kiss throbs
In the earth's warm breath.
Now close it with curtains
Of silver sobs;
And pin it with diamonds
That slip from your lashes!—
O sweet veiled virgin land that lies like a leaf
In the cup of the seas, in the lap of the drifting skies,
Drink softly thy draught of dreams, for the night is brief,
For the cool still touch of the morn on thy shoulder lies!
Lay bare the bud-like founts of thy bridal grief!
Like a widowed nun with tears thou shalt wash the pearls of thine eyes.
As a tragedy leaps from its germ of deed, when a star
Is born of the clash of suns in a fate-swept path,
So souls like steeds are spurred by the gilded car

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To the plunging doom of their death, or in foaming wrath
Are whirled by the charioteer in a circle far
Down haggard face-browed lanes of a hero's aftermath.—
Must the liquid metre break
On a storm-swept lake?
And mar with its wailing bitter
The Pleiads' placid twitter?
Shall not the hero's diamond-hearted will
O'ertop all ill?
Then let the piping eons
Dance to the earth's proud pæans!
For if in trailing tunes
Heaven shall vibrate to the pang of new-born moons,
If discord only strengthens
The Titan-hearted harmony it lengthens,
Shall not these blood-notes quiver
As if a million ruby blossoms floated on a tranquil river?
As if some new melodic sense
Were born of senses;
As if the sun-burst of omniscience
Were shot from the seven-hued ray that a crystal soul condenses;
So an immortal ear
The pure white truth shall hear

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As if it filtered through a soundless, formless, stainless atmosphere.
How can it race
O'er broken strings of place,
For everywhere is omnipresent in one burning focal point of space?
How can it rhyme
O'er rhythmic lapse of time,
For God hath swept etherial pulses into one limpid lake of love sublime?
As bubbling springs where tear-eyed nymphs have rule,
The soul wells up with insight clear and cool.
Each diamond-hearted brother
Shoots rays into another;
And all things lie about on one another's breast like lotus petals in a pool.
So the pure motive of the bridegroom speeds
As if an opal bird had dropped to an emerald nest of reeds.
But what if he bear the sting
Of a mortal thing,
And bind with the silken chain of a self the bride's unconscious wing?
What if he stain with a tear the virgin lace of her bed?—

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Ah, Psyche, thy bed is the vast white ocean of human suffering;
And his the awful kiss of a soul with its own true freedom wed!
When out of the calm cool gray of the primal night
God's thoughts, breathed light,
Like clouds on the pearly wing of the morning flew,
No sense-refracted ray,
No tear-stained dream of a separate self they knew.
Like babes they lay,
Or folded petals asleep in the soft white arms of a dew.
As tender flocks of tune
Carol upon symphonic interludes of glee;
As if a single dimpled moon
Showered a million diamond kisses on the crescents of the sea;
So in a nesting mood
Shall selfless spirits brood,
Cooing to one another in the ecstasy of dove-like brotherhood.
To stand upon the brink!
In crystal depths to sink
Where saints in clear community of purpose think!
Not as a mere drop lost;
But as a new note tossed
Into the overwhelming organ-floods of Pentecost!

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O white baptismal font of impersonal fire!
We dip in thee
Our helpless naked individuality,
And fling our separate beaded wills like pearls on a funeral pyre!
He who seeks
Shall find;—
Whether on mountain peaks,
Or in the desert wind;
Whether with white dumb hands he shrieks
To the future deaf and blind;
Whether on wasted knee bespeaks
The lonely God of his mind.
But where shall the soul aghast
Woo its true self in fierce immortal agony of passion?
Upon what deserts of the haggard crowd, in what gray garb of penitential fashion
Shall it invoke the purity of its long-forgotten past?
Bathed in the sweet virginity
Of this young land that rises like a shell-nymph from the sea
Behold, O man, the perfect crisis of thy opportunity!
By bitter balm of conflict purified,
Alone shalt thou be worthy of thy starry bride.

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Not as the lawless denizen of Greed;
But as the loving citizen self-freed
Pouring his life-stream into the ocean of the common need.
O fertile prophecies that laugh on a wedding morn!
O dispensation newly born!
For thee the systems waited, for thee the planets floated
Like smoke-wreaths ruby-noted
From the molten core of Time outblown through the lips of his silver horn.
If on wing of melody
The past reborn came flying;
If in burst of prophecy
The future sang its heart out in one note, like a skylark dying;
And if the sweet-lipped themes
Of these twin sister streams
Were pressed into the single rosy petal of an angel's dreams;—
Then the whole fronded world
Into this downy seedling moment furled
Would sing to itself, like God before one gossamer thought uncurled.
So, night without a parallel,
Sing on, sing well,
As with the bursting heart of Nature prisoned in thy sapphire shell!

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As if the very blisses of the bride
Were charged with all the motherhood of ages to be crucified!
As if the bridegroom heard
The pinion of a Dove
Whirring amid the boundless transports of his love,
And brooding with the very impregnation of the Primal Word!
O bridal night
Veiled in thy spirit robe of white!
O panting wave
Of sea-green goddess in a glassy cave!
O sky atune!
O perfect-breasted moon
Cold with the splendor of a marble slave!
O braided stars upon the brow of Dawn!
And Pleiads' nests
Under the purple Wests!
And dove-eyed Lyra brooding on the lawn!
And thy keen sword, Orion!
And thou, O sun-tamed Lion!
And thou, again, great polar heart
That pinn'st the wingéd universe's spiral chart!—
All ye, and millions more
That teem in violet life upon the farthest astral shore!
Whirr up in one transcendent blast of wings;
And fill the jasmine melody that swings

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From the pale yellow of magnetic stems,
And flings the cup-like magic of its hems
O'er the soft naked wilderness of things!—
Now in one last ecstatic canticle, ye moments, blend,
That mote-like rush upon the flaming end;
One perfect note of wedding bells to rise and sink
Upon the drum-like brink
Of steel-blue corded hemispheres,
Where now the mortal signal of the years
Is sounded for the fainting, dying world in elegies of tears!