Golden Histories, etc :: :: University of Virginia Library

One day, my darling lake beside,
In a low reedy marsh I walk'd,
Where swans, like snowy shadows glide,
And as with wildering thoughts I talk'd,
With scornful wail the swans replied.

It was a dull still afternoon,
No human voice was in the air,
Nor warbled note nor whistled tune,
Nor shout of one that hath no care,
From sunrise till eve's mellow moon.

The reeds stood round me, stiff and lank,
The green-gold beetle on a stone
Lay motionless, and rank on rank,
Red hips and ruby berries shone,
Yet shook not on their mossy bank.

201

The elm-trees crost their arms of green,
And stood erect, like men resign'd
To see what never should be seen,
And bear their fate with equal mind,
Both what will be, and what hath been.

There were no shadows in the grass,
No spots of brightness near the trees,
No birds to pass me or repass;
There was no motion, was no breeze:
All lifeless stretcht the whole morass.

Dense, grey, and sullen o'er me spread
The low near level of the sky,
No cloud was sailing overhead;
But here and there I saw on high,
Blue breaks, yet blue of greenish dye.

There was a smell of mild decay,
Of withering fragrance, mouldering wood.
But how or whence it came that way
I know not; in my strange wild mood
I did not know the hour of day.

To me it seemed there were no hours,
Was neither After nor Before,
Were neither men nor heavenly powers,
And never would be any more,
That God was dead, and all was o'er.

202

It was the last, last day I thought,
Here ended all our bliss and pain,
What God and man had wrought was wrought,
And nothing could be changed again,
Nothing be either lost or sought.

All is eternal now, I said.
The swans will ever wail and scream,
The flat grey sky still o'er me spread;
And life, one fixed and endless dream,
Shall bring no change to heart or head,