 | Verse in bloom |  |
115
THE INSPIRATION
Grown very weary of my work
Afar from brook and breeze,
How willingly I grant my brain
A little holiday again,
And spend it with the trees!
Afar from brook and breeze,
How willingly I grant my brain
A little holiday again,
And spend it with the trees!
Languidly musing in my chair,
I make the haughty wood
My servant here, and bid the throng
Of doves delight me with a song
To lull me while I brood.
I make the haughty wood
My servant here, and bid the throng
Of doves delight me with a song
To lull me while I brood.
Hinges of bark begin to stir,
And winds of Fancy toss
The Dryad's hair in disarray
As soon as she comes out to play
With friends upon the moss.
And winds of Fancy toss
The Dryad's hair in disarray
As soon as she comes out to play
With friends upon the moss.
Oaks tell me of the steadiness
My heart and spirit lack,
And teach me how to clench my hand
Upon the hilt of life, and stand
With shoulders pressing back.
My heart and spirit lack,
And teach me how to clench my hand
Upon the hilt of life, and stand
With shoulders pressing back.
116
How often, when my nature seems
Rebellious grown, and turns,
Without a thankful tear, aside
So quickly from the Crucified . . .
Beyond that home of ferns
Rebellious grown, and turns,
Without a thankful tear, aside
So quickly from the Crucified . . .
Beyond that home of ferns
Who trembles into outline there,
Escaped from heavenly bowers?
As noiseless as the air that flows
Along the glade, my Mother goes
In beauty, gathering flowers.
Escaped from heavenly bowers?
As noiseless as the air that flows
Along the glade, my Mother goes
In beauty, gathering flowers.
Vision refining, healing, blest!
Thou bringest me the flame
That burns me to the shape decreed
Till sounds my bell and there is need
To send me whence I came.
Thou bringest me the flame
That burns me to the shape decreed
Till sounds my bell and there is need
To send me whence I came.
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