 | On Viol and Flute |  |
1
AD AUDITOREM.
Take
hands with me, dear unknown friend, and find
Some downy hollow, sheltered from the wind,
Where summer meadows overlook the sea,
And let us, in the grass at length reclined,
Some downy hollow, sheltered from the wind,
Where summer meadows overlook the sea,
And let us, in the grass at length reclined,
Hold converse, while the melting air around
Is full of golden light and murmuring sound,
And let your soul shine frankly upon me,
And I will tell the best my heart has found.
Is full of golden light and murmuring sound,
And let your soul shine frankly upon me,
And I will tell the best my heart has found.
But first hold up against the light your wrist,
Where blue veins hide like unhewn amethyst,
And let me feel that you have bodily fire
And purple that the sacred sun has kissea.
Where blue veins hide like unhewn amethyst,
And let me feel that you have bodily fire
And purple that the sacred sun has kissea.
2
Else, if your blood be chilly, go your way,—
I have no song to sing to you to-day;
The goal to which our lyric hearts aspire
Must be the very core of life in May.
I have no song to sing to you to-day;
The goal to which our lyric hearts aspire
Must be the very core of life in May.
The wind that glows about your cool brown throat,
The mists that in the violet distance float,
The sun that dips into the rippling waves,
All chant the lesson I have learned by rote.
The mists that in the violet distance float,
The sun that dips into the rippling waves,
All chant the lesson I have learned by rote.
I clasp, as bees do flowers, with amorous wings,
The spirit of life in moving joyous things;
Where'er desire receives the boon it craves,
A new Athene from my forehead springs.
The spirit of life in moving joyous things;
Where'er desire receives the boon it craves,
A new Athene from my forehead springs.
When on the rose-stock a fresh blossom blows,
I live within the young triumphant rose;
I stretch my plumes with new-born butterflies,
And with the yearling linnet's my voice grows.
I live within the young triumphant rose;
I stretch my plumes with new-born butterflies,
And with the yearling linnet's my voice grows.
But most I find the answer to my mind
Where men and women live as God designed,
With natural aims, warm loves and sympathies,
By no court-rules or uncouth laws confined.
Where men and women live as God designed,
With natural aims, warm loves and sympathies,
By no court-rules or uncouth laws confined.
3
Lovers behind the hay-stacks out of sight,
And peasants dancing in a barn at night,
Rough fishers chanting as they haul the net,
And whistling mowers in the fading light,
And peasants dancing in a barn at night,
Rough fishers chanting as they haul the net,
And whistling mowers in the fading light,
Slim country girls that chatter hand in hand,
Men singing homewards through the harvest-land,
The fiddler scraping, when the moon has set,
A may-pole ditty for a laughing band,—
Men singing homewards through the harvest-land,
The fiddler scraping, when the moon has set,
A may-pole ditty for a laughing band,—
All these are more than my own life to me;
I haul the moon-shot fishes from the sea,
I fiddle on the village-green, I dance,
I thrill with others in their honest glee.
I haul the moon-shot fishes from the sea,
I fiddle on the village-green, I dance,
I thrill with others in their honest glee.
And this is what I choose, and, if you will
To call it higher, I reach higher still;
Whatever joyous gift design or chance
Has given our little round of years to fill,
To call it higher, I reach higher still;
Whatever joyous gift design or chance
Has given our little round of years to fill,
Is mine by love of it; and when I stand
To watch the fingers of a master's hand,
And taste the rich arpeggios, and, ablaze
With florid chords, hear how the fire is fanned;
To watch the fingers of a master's hand,
And taste the rich arpeggios, and, ablaze
With florid chords, hear how the fire is fanned;
4
Or by some sweet entablature discern
Old stories at a painter's beck return
And shed their dewy light on our dark days,
I throb with joy, and as I look I learn.
Old stories at a painter's beck return
And shed their dewy light on our dark days,
I throb with joy, and as I look I learn.
And these make up my sum of life's desire,—
To live for ever in the sun's broad fire,
To know and love strong men and shapely girls,
And nobly working till the end aspire.
To live for ever in the sun's broad fire,
To know and love strong men and shapely girls,
And nobly working till the end aspire.
With colour, verse, and harmony to frame
A house of beautiful delights, whose name
May stir the world with pleasure like fine pearls,
Strung on a gold thread gleaming as a flame.
A house of beautiful delights, whose name
May stir the world with pleasure like fine pearls,
Strung on a gold thread gleaming as a flame.
There have been sage philosophers who found
That pleasure was a dream, and song mere sound;
They passed, and left us poorer; now, ah me!
I wonder what they dream of underground!
That pleasure was a dream, and song mere sound;
They passed, and left us poorer; now, ah me!
I wonder what they dream of underground!
For lying in the narrow earth they miss
All consolations of remembcred bliss,
The scent of wine, blown air and glowing sea,
The songs we sing, the kisses that we kiss.
All consolations of remembcred bliss,
The scent of wine, blown air and glowing sea,
The songs we sing, the kisses that we kiss.
5
For us no learning is worth half the lore
Of knowing what the breakers tell the shore;
No science half so wise as what the bee
Is murmuring while he feels the lily's core.
Of knowing what the breakers tell the shore;
No science half so wise as what the bee
Is murmuring while he feels the lily's core.
So listen while I tell you my delights
On sunny afternoons and starry nights,
What secrets Love has whispered low to me,
And what I know of Nature's mystic rites.
On sunny afternoons and starry nights,
What secrets Love has whispered low to me,
And what I know of Nature's mystic rites.
And though the sunset, with her warm red flesh,
And blown hair tangled in a golden mesh,
Wind all along the west her mute caress,
Yet turn and let our hearts commune afresh.
And blown hair tangled in a golden mesh,
Wind all along the west her mute caress,
Yet turn and let our hearts commune afresh.
Yes! go not till the amorous night suspires
From heaven her stars, from earth her glow-worm fires,
And I will sing my songs to you, and press
Your shoulder with my head till day expires.
From heaven her stars, from earth her glow-worm fires,
And I will sing my songs to you, and press
Your shoulder with my head till day expires.
| On Viol and Flute | |