 | Poems |  |
164
A PARABLE, AND ITS INTERPRETATION.
With limbs at rest on the green Earth's breast
In a solemn wood and deep,
A proud form lay through a summer's day,
In mood to dream and sleep;
A streamlet slow in the brake below
Went sadly wailing on,
With murmurs wild like a gentle child
That seeketh something gone.
In a solemn wood and deep,
A proud form lay through a summer's day,
In mood to dream and sleep;
A streamlet slow in the brake below
Went sadly wailing on,
With murmurs wild like a gentle child
That seeketh something gone.
The Dreamer rose from his vain repose
With stern and sullen look,
And the storm of his wrath came bitterly forth
As he cursed the simple brook;
“Thy murmurs deep disturb my sleep,
“Be still, thou streamlet hoarse;
“Small right hast thou of voice, I trow,
“To tell thy foolish course.”
With stern and sullen look,
And the storm of his wrath came bitterly forth
As he cursed the simple brook;
“Thy murmurs deep disturb my sleep,
“Be still, thou streamlet hoarse;
“Small right hast thou of voice, I trow,
“To tell thy foolish course.”
165
The waters stirred, for a spirit heard—
The spirit of the stream,
And a voice replied with a breath that sighed,
Like the breath of a broken dream;
“If the sleeper fear my wail to hear
“Let him stir each rocky stone
“Whose cruel force impedes my course,
“And makes my waters moan.”
The spirit of the stream,
And a voice replied with a breath that sighed,
Like the breath of a broken dream;
“If the sleeper fear my wail to hear
“Let him stir each rocky stone
“Whose cruel force impedes my course,
“And makes my waters moan.”
Oft in my heart strange fancies start,
And a voice with plaintive wail
Sings, sadly sings, that Earthly things
Shadow in such a tale;
That wealth and birth on God's free Earth
Oft curse the noise of strife
Which poor men make, as they seek to break
Through the rugged stones of life.
And a voice with plaintive wail
Sings, sadly sings, that Earthly things
Shadow in such a tale;
That wealth and birth on God's free Earth
Oft curse the noise of strife
Which poor men make, as they seek to break
Through the rugged stones of life.
The sad voice sings that ermined kings
Dream on in stately halls,
With curses deep for their broken sleep
When an anguished people calls;
And when sharp stones wake human moans,
They hear, but never move,
Nor lend men strength to win at length
The Liberty they love.
Dream on in stately halls,
With curses deep for their broken sleep
When an anguished people calls;
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They hear, but never move,
Nor lend men strength to win at length
The Liberty they love.
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