 | Under Green Leaves |  |
I. PART I.—EARTH-SORROWS.
The melodies! the harmonies!
They fall from my fingers free,
Like rain where the tree-tops quiver,
Like hail on the rippling river,
Like sunbeams on the sea.
And there are thoughts within them,
And fancies fresh and young;—
But, alas! I cannot utter them
For failure of my tongue.
The melodies, the harmonies,
Unspoken and unsung!
I would I were a poet,
And that my thoughts could reach
The magic and the mystery,
And affluence of speech;—
That I might tell my secrets
And all that I could teach;—
Or that some kindly minstrel,
With thoughts akin to mine,
Would deign to sit beside me,
And help me to entwine
My music with his language
Into a chain divine,
That men might bind their hearts with,
Like a trellis'd vine.
They fall from my fingers free,
Like rain where the tree-tops quiver,
Like hail on the rippling river,
Like sunbeams on the sea.
And there are thoughts within them,
And fancies fresh and young;—
But, alas! I cannot utter them
For failure of my tongue.
The melodies, the harmonies,
Unspoken and unsung!
70
And that my thoughts could reach
The magic and the mystery,
And affluence of speech;—
That I might tell my secrets
And all that I could teach;—
Or that some kindly minstrel,
With thoughts akin to mine,
Would deign to sit beside me,
And help me to entwine
My music with his language
Into a chain divine,
That men might bind their hearts with,
Like a trellis'd vine.
But the melodies! the harmonies!
They die as they are born,
With none to understand them;—
So sweetly as I plann'd them,
In my joy forlorn!
The breath of an emotion
And a happy pain,
They drop on the wide, wide ocean,
Like the barren rain;
And when I would revive them,
I look for them in vain.
They die as they are born,
With none to understand them;—
So sweetly as I plann'd them,
In my joy forlorn!
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And a happy pain,
They drop on the wide, wide ocean,
Like the barren rain;
And when I would revive them,
I look for them in vain.
| Under Green Leaves | |