Shifting Scenes and Other Poems By J. Stanyan Bigg |
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 | Shifting Scenes and Other Poems |  |
64
IX. WHERE ARE THEY?
Hayti alone in the Garden.
Dreams! dreams! dreams!
Ah! the gush of morning
Reddening all the streams;
Ah! the smoking mountains;
Ah! the leaping fountains
Drinking in the beams;
Ah! the golden tassels
Of the forest hoar;
Ah! the gush of glory
Breaking evermore
On the forest, with its gums
Pouring incense at the gate
Of the dawn, where, clad in state,
All the sumptuous menials wait
For the King who never comes!
Whither, whither
Goeth all this dance of light,
When the trembling lids of night
Shut upon the heavens? Ah! whither
Goeth all this dance of light,
All this marriage-robe of white,
Whither? Whither?
Ah for ever! Ah for ever!
They are dreams.
Ah! the gush of morning
Reddening all the streams;
Ah! the smoking mountains;
Ah! the leaping fountains
Drinking in the beams;
Ah! the golden tassels
Of the forest hoar;
Ah! the gush of glory
Breaking evermore
On the forest, with its gums
Pouring incense at the gate
Of the dawn, where, clad in state,
All the sumptuous menials wait
For the King who never comes!
Whither, whither
Goeth all this dance of light,
When the trembling lids of night
Shut upon the heavens? Ah! whither
65
All this marriage-robe of white,
Whither? Whither?
Ah for ever! Ah for ever!
They are dreams.
Dreams! dreams! dreams!
Ah! the ripple-silvered sea,
Ah! the blooms upon the tree,
Ah! the whirr of bird and bee,
And the music of the streams;
Ah! the plumed and painted play
Of the golden-robèd day
With his quiver full of beams;
Ah! the ripple and the shiver
Of the sleek and shining river,
Ah! the tremble and the quiver
Of the crimson flower-gauzes,—
Ah! the music and the pauses
Through the day;
Ah! the shimmer and the glimmer
Of the blossom-laden boughs;
Ah! the whimple and the dimple
Of the laughter-haunted brows,
Where are they—
And the crimson of the rose,
And the evanescent glows
Of the bud that never blows,
Where are they—
When, from out the black and riven
Tent o' the swirled and swinging heaven,
Leaps the Storm-King with his levin,
Where are they?
Ah! the ripple-silvered sea,
Ah! the blooms upon the tree,
Ah! the whirr of bird and bee,
And the music of the streams;
Ah! the plumed and painted play
Of the golden-robèd day
With his quiver full of beams;
Ah! the ripple and the shiver
Of the sleek and shining river,
Ah! the tremble and the quiver
Of the crimson flower-gauzes,—
Ah! the music and the pauses
Through the day;
Ah! the shimmer and the glimmer
Of the blossom-laden boughs;
Ah! the whimple and the dimple
Of the laughter-haunted brows,
Where are they—
And the crimson of the rose,
And the evanescent glows
Of the bud that never blows,
66
When, from out the black and riven
Tent o' the swirled and swinging heaven,
Leaps the Storm-King with his levin,
Where are they?
| Shifting Scenes and Other Poems | |