University of Virginia Library

As a pine-log prostrate lying,
Slowly thro' its knotted skin
Feels the warm revivifying
Spring-time thrill and tremble in;
As a pine-log, strong and massive,
Feels the light and lieth passive,
While a Sunbeam, coming daily,
Creeps upon its bosom gaily;
Warms the bark with quick pulsations,
Warms and waits each day in patience,
While the green begins to brighten,
And the sap begins to heighten,—
Till at last from its hard bosom
Suddenly there slips a blossom
Green as emerald!—then another!
Then a third! then more and more!
Till the soft green bud-knots smother
What was sapless wood before;
Till the thing is consecrated
To the spirit of the Spring,
Till the love for all things fated
Burns and beautifies the thing;—
And the wood-doves sit and con it,
And the squirrels from on high
Fluttering drop their nuts upon it,
And the bee and butterfly
Find it pleasant to alight there,
And taps busy morn and night there
Many a bird with golden beak;
Till, since all has grown so bright there,
It would cry (if Logs could speak),
‘Sunbeam, sunbeam, I'm your debtor!
I was fit for firewood nearly.
I'm considerably better,
And I love you, Sunbeam, dearly!’

. . . Thou, Eureka, wast the wood!
She, the Sunbeam of the Spring,
Vivifying thy dull blood
Past thy mind's imagining!
Till the passion of her loving,
Seething forth with ardours frantic,
Brought the buds forth, set thee moving,
Made thee almost look romantic.

‘O would some power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!’
Sang the wise ploughman in his power.
And yet, Eureka, had sweet Heaven
To thee her wondrous ‘giftie’ given
To see thyself as seen that hour,
To know thy features as she knew them,
To see thy shape as she perceived it;
To see thine eyes, and thro' and thro’ them,
Into thy Soul as she conceived it;
Either thy blood had run mad races,
And driven thee to some maniac action;
Or (what more likely in the case is)
Thy wits had frozen to stupefaction!

For never god in olden story,
When the gods had honour due,
Gather'd brighter guise and glory,
In an adoring mortal's view.
Let me own it, though thy nature
Was sedate and beaver-bred,
As a god thou wert in stature,
Fair of face and proud of tread;
And thine eyes were luminous glasses,
And thy face a glorious scroll,
And the radiant light that passes
O'er the dumb flowers and the grasses,
Caught thy gaze and look'd like Soul;
And the animal vibration
Throbbing in thee at her touch,
The wild earthly exaltation,
Beasts and birds can feel as much,
Radiating and illuming
Every fibre of thy flesh,
Made thee beautiful and blooming,
Great and glorious, fair and fresh;
Fit it seem'd for love to yearn to,
For a fairer Soul than thine,
Morning, noon, and night to burn to,
In a flash that felt divine.
Her tall white chief, whom God had brought her
From the far-off Big-Sea Water!
Her warrior of the pale races,
With wise tongues and paintless faces;
More than mortal, a great creature,
Soft of tongue, and fine of feature;
As the wind that blew above her
O'er the hunting-fields of azure,
As the stately clouds that hover
In the air that pants for pleasure,
Full of strength and motion stately,
Were thy face and form unto her;
And thy blue eyes pleased her greatly,
And thy clear voice trembled thro' her;
And for minute after minute
She did pore upon thy face,
Read the lines and guess within it
The great spirit of thy race;
And thou seemedst altogether
A great creature, fair of skin,
Born in scenes of softer weather,
Nobler than her savage kin!

As a peasant maiden homely
Might regard some lordly wooer,
Find each feature trebly comely
From the pride it stoops unto her;
Thus, Eureka, she esteem'd thee
Fairer for thy finer blood;
She revered thee, loved thee, deem'd thee
Wholly beautiful and good!
And her day-dream ne'er was broken,
As some mortal day-dreams are,
By a word or sentence spoken
In thy coarse vernacular.
For she could not speak a dozen
Words as used by the white nation!
And thy speech seem'd finely chosen,
Since she made her own translation,
Scarce a syllable quite catching,
Yet, upon thy bosom leaning,
Out of ever sentence snatching
Music with its own sweet meaning.

Powers above! the situation's
Psychological, I swear!
How express the false relations
Of this strange-assorted pair?
Happy, glorious, self-deluded,
On the handsome face she brooded,
Ne'er by word or gesture driven
From her day-dream sweet as heaven.
In her native language for him
She had warrior's names most sweet:
And she loved and did adore him,
Falling fawn-like at his feet;
More, the rapturous exultation
Struck him! blinded him, in turn!
Till with passionate sensation
Body and brain began to burn;—
And he yielded to the bursting,
Burning, blinding, hungering, thirsting,
Passion felt by beasts and men!
And his eyes caught love and rapture,
And he held her close in capture,
Kissing lips—that kiss'd again!