 | Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) |  |
I.—A Tulip-Bulb.
With care I scanned it in a wintry hour,
As though my steadfast look would search for signs
Of that mysterious transfiguring power
Whose charm its dull rotundity enshrines.
As though my steadfast look would search for signs
Of that mysterious transfiguring power
Whose charm its dull rotundity enshrines.
What hidden strength could dower this torpid plant
All sublety of conjecture dared not guess,
Chill, callous, earthy and insignificant,
Engirt with husks of swarthy brittleness.
All sublety of conjecture dared not guess,
Chill, callous, earthy and insignificant,
Engirt with husks of swarthy brittleness.
But now, when mellowing April's mirth or tears
Fill heaven with sweet caprice of storm and calm,
I watch how radiantly its outgrowth rears
A gorgeous chalice, brimmed with fragrant balm
Fill heaven with sweet caprice of storm and calm,
I watch how radiantly its outgrowth rears
A gorgeous chalice, brimmed with fragrant balm
Ah, little maid, beneath my window there,
Disdained by hurrying passers while you ply,
With ragged garments and with tangled hair,
Your shabby broom that keeps the crossing dry.
Of you, poor weary starveling, who shall say
What beauty and fragrance might not break control,
If love's dear luminous warmth once found its way
In through the dark of your neglected soul?
Disdained by hurrying passers while you ply,
With ragged garments and with tangled hair,
Your shabby broom that keeps the crossing dry.
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What beauty and fragrance might not break control,
If love's dear luminous warmth once found its way
In through the dark of your neglected soul?
| Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) | |