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33
Love's Eleusis
Love has a sacred nameWithout more touch of blame
Than glow-worm's lamp or trill
Of April black-bird's bill;
Yet not in tents of death
Love draws his native breath,
But roaming unconfined
The mountains of the mind;
For there with mystic mirth
High heaven and humble earth
Proclaim his sovereign birth!
But few may understand
The king-craft of his land,
Held far aloof from fate,
In governance and state;
For thither none may win
By saintliness nor sin;
In vain his votaries crowd
The valleys; wreathed in cloud,
Rise o'er the random throng
The hills he dwells among.
To that green mountain-side
Can poets only guide,
Where far on sun-lit steep
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Nor folly's praise nor blame
Attaints his sacred name,
But youths and maidens bring
Fresh chaplets to their king
And sing as sky-larks sing!
1896.
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