 | Poems |  |
135
RÊVE DU MIDI.
When o'er the mountain steeps
The hazy noontide creeps,
And the shrill cricket sleeps
Under the grass;
When soft the shadows lie,
And clouds sail o'er the sky,
And the idle winds go by,
With the heavy scent of blossoms as they pass;
The hazy noontide creeps,
And the shrill cricket sleeps
Under the grass;
When soft the shadows lie,
And clouds sail o'er the sky,
And the idle winds go by,
With the heavy scent of blossoms as they pass;
Then, when the silent stream
Lapses as in a dream,
And the water-lilies gleam
Up to the sun;
When the hot and burdened day
Stops on its downward way,
When the moth forgets to play,
And the plodding ant may dream her toil is done;
Lapses as in a dream,
And the water-lilies gleam
Up to the sun;
When the hot and burdened day
Stops on its downward way,
When the moth forgets to play,
And the plodding ant may dream her toil is done;
Then, from the noise of war,
And the din of earth afar,
Like some forgotten star
Dropt from the sky;
With the sounds of love and fear,
All voices sad and dear
Banish to silence drear,
The willing thrall of trances sweet I lie.
And the din of earth afar,
Like some forgotten star
Dropt from the sky;
With the sounds of love and fear,
All voices sad and dear
Banish to silence drear,
The willing thrall of trances sweet I lie.
136
Some melancholy gale
Breathes its mysterious tale,
Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs:
And o'er my thoughts are cast
Tints of the vanished past,
Glories that faded fast,
Renewed to splendor in my dreaming eyes.
Breathes its mysterious tale,
Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs:
And o'er my thoughts are cast
Tints of the vanished past,
Glories that faded fast,
Renewed to splendor in my dreaming eyes.
As poised on vibrant wings,
Where his sweet treasure swings,
The honey-lover clings
To the red flowers:
So, lost in vivid light,
So, rapt from day and night,
I linger in delight,
Enraptured o'er the vision-freighted hours.
Where his sweet treasure swings,
The honey-lover clings
To the red flowers:
So, lost in vivid light,
So, rapt from day and night,
I linger in delight,
Enraptured o'er the vision-freighted hours.
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