 | Idyls of Norway and other poems |  |
[I. White, silent goddess, whose divine repose]
White, silent goddess, whose divine reposeShames the shrill ecstasies of later creeds,
What might is in thy presence that it breeds
This calm and deep delight that neither knows
Regret for past nor fear of coming woes!
I feel thee like a stately monotone,
Whose soundless waves against my spirit thrown
Make strong and pure. I feel the joy that flows
Like mild, unceasing rain upon my sense
From Nature's myriad fountains. In my soul
The lusty pagan wakes and roams the dense
Arcadian shades, and hears the distant roll
Of mingling echoes,—hears as in a dream
The cymbal's clash, the wild bacchante's scream.
| Idyls of Norway and other poems | |