 | Poems (1867) |  |
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A FAREWELL TO YOUTH.
A MIDSUMMER DAY'S DREAM.
Thou fair and hurrying guest!
O Youth, in tears half-drowned,
And half with roses crowned!
Thou sweetness unpossessed!
I pine not for the sound
Of thy swift wings, thy sighs,
Thy whispers, nor thine eyes'
Soft, silent language seek, that sent around
So many a glance, caressing and caressed;
Nor grieve I for thy song,
Glad, sad, and sweet, so long
Remembered, though its cadence broke so soon:
A fond farewell, O Youth,
I take of thee! thy truth
Was sweet, and e'en thy falsehood scarce beguiled;
For thou, thyself a child,
Believing, hoping, loving, didst receive
And give with equal hand, and sweetly keep
And sweetly break thy troth, and wake and sleep
In peace through every change, unchilled, ungrieved;
Thy Waking and thy Dream
So sweet, so close did seem,
That thou wert blest, deceiving or deceived.
O Youth, in tears half-drowned,
And half with roses crowned!
Thou sweetness unpossessed!
I pine not for the sound
Of thy swift wings, thy sighs,
Thy whispers, nor thine eyes'
Soft, silent language seek, that sent around
So many a glance, caressing and caressed;
Nor grieve I for thy song,
Glad, sad, and sweet, so long
Remembered, though its cadence broke so soon:
A fond farewell, O Youth,
I take of thee! thy truth
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For thou, thyself a child,
Believing, hoping, loving, didst receive
And give with equal hand, and sweetly keep
And sweetly break thy troth, and wake and sleep
In peace through every change, unchilled, ungrieved;
Thy Waking and thy Dream
So sweet, so close did seem,
That thou wert blest, deceiving or deceived.
And thou wouldst not remain
To hear reproachings vain;
A print upon the grass, a line between
The rustling boughs of sudden-parted green,
And thou wert gone for ever! Truly fled?
I know not yet! methinks within my heart
Thou hidest still thy bright unsheltered head,
And dost remain, for evermore a part
Of all things fair, and from the violet's eye
Thy smile looks up, thy breath goes wandering by
In many a wild, warm, briery-scented sigh,
Linked with all lovely things that change and cannot die!
To hear reproachings vain;
A print upon the grass, a line between
The rustling boughs of sudden-parted green,
And thou wert gone for ever! Truly fled?
I know not yet! methinks within my heart
Thou hidest still thy bright unsheltered head,
And dost remain, for evermore a part
Of all things fair, and from the violet's eye
Thy smile looks up, thy breath goes wandering by
In many a wild, warm, briery-scented sigh,
Linked with all lovely things that change and cannot die!
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So come and go, dear Youth,
I will not chide with thee! for now the mist
Hath rolled all up the glittering hills sun-kissed,
And broad around me stretch the woods, the plains;
And still the landscape widens, still the sky
Bends over all with broad, unwinking eye,
Above an equal blue, an equal green
Below, and nought is hidden! all is seen
And all is known! But now methinks the lanes
Grow white and dusty, and no flower remains
With brimming cup, no descant wild and shrill
Of all that morn and eve were wont to thrill
My listening ear; the reapers work in bands,
But all is silent: where are now the hands
That sought for mine, the dances light and free?
The tales that seemed beginning still to be,
And pausing woke again, and still were sweet to me?
I will not chide with thee! for now the mist
Hath rolled all up the glittering hills sun-kissed,
And broad around me stretch the woods, the plains;
And still the landscape widens, still the sky
Bends over all with broad, unwinking eye,
Above an equal blue, an equal green
Below, and nought is hidden! all is seen
And all is known! But now methinks the lanes
Grow white and dusty, and no flower remains
With brimming cup, no descant wild and shrill
Of all that morn and eve were wont to thrill
My listening ear; the reapers work in bands,
But all is silent: where are now the hands
That sought for mine, the dances light and free?
The tales that seemed beginning still to be,
And pausing woke again, and still were sweet to me?
But now upon the clear
Calm summer air, I hear,
Far on the silence borne, a distant strain;
A tune that gives and takes,
That hushes while it wakes,
That loosens while it binds a gentle chain:
So sweetly on the sense
It falls, I ask not whence
It comes, nor know I whither goes that tune
More soft than summer dews—
Most like a hand that wooes
An arrow forth—and while I listen, seems
Far off and faint, like music heard in dreams,
To change and fade each dim, half-shrouded pain;
Each fond regret, each care
Is fled;—oh, tell me where,
Dear Shepherd, Thou dost feed Thy flocks at noon?
Calm summer air, I hear,
Far on the silence borne, a distant strain;
A tune that gives and takes,
That hushes while it wakes,
That loosens while it binds a gentle chain:
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It falls, I ask not whence
It comes, nor know I whither goes that tune
More soft than summer dews—
Most like a hand that wooes
An arrow forth—and while I listen, seems
Far off and faint, like music heard in dreams,
To change and fade each dim, half-shrouded pain;
Each fond regret, each care
Is fled;—oh, tell me where,
Dear Shepherd, Thou dost feed Thy flocks at noon?
Oh, tell me in what still
Fair meadows at Thy will
Thou leadest them? by what glad streamlet's flow?
Perchance upon the rocks
Thou sittest now, Thy flocks
With reedy murmurs soothing, while the low
Soft summer winds reply; or by the Well
Thou sittest now, perchance, as once befell
When Thou wert wearied with the noontide glare.
Oh, long-belovèd, let me find Thee there,
And there with Thee abide; the shadows soon
Will fall and darken o'er these pathways wide;
Oh, let me be no more as one aside
That turns unwilling! by Thy tents I dwell,
Thy dear companions know me! Shepherd, tell,
Where dost Thou make Thy flocks to rest at noon?
Fair meadows at Thy will
Thou leadest them? by what glad streamlet's flow?
Perchance upon the rocks
Thou sittest now, Thy flocks
With reedy murmurs soothing, while the low
Soft summer winds reply; or by the Well
Thou sittest now, perchance, as once befell
When Thou wert wearied with the noontide glare.
Oh, long-belovèd, let me find Thee there,
And there with Thee abide; the shadows soon
Will fall and darken o'er these pathways wide;
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That turns unwilling! by Thy tents I dwell,
Thy dear companions know me! Shepherd, tell,
Where dost Thou make Thy flocks to rest at noon?
| Poems (1867) | |