The Battle-Day and Other Poems By Ernest Jones |
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THE POET'S PARALLEL. |
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 | The Battle-Day and Other Poems |  |
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THE POET'S PARALLEL.
Down the hillside tripping brightly,
O'er the pebbles tinkling lightly,
'Mid the meadows rippling merrily, the mountain-current goes;
By the broken rocks careering,
Thro' the desert persevering,
Flowing onward ever, ever singing as it flows.
O'er the pebbles tinkling lightly,
'Mid the meadows rippling merrily, the mountain-current goes;
By the broken rocks careering,
Thro' the desert persevering,
Flowing onward ever, ever singing as it flows.
But oh! the darksome caves
That swallow up the waves!
Oh! the shadow-haunted forest and the sandy shallows wide!
Oh! the hollow-reeded fen,
Like the stagnant minds of men,
A desert for the silver foot of mountain-cradled tide!
That swallow up the waves!
Oh! the shadow-haunted forest and the sandy shallows wide!
Oh! the hollow-reeded fen,
Like the stagnant minds of men,
A desert for the silver foot of mountain-cradled tide!
And oh! the withered leaves
From the fading forest-eaves,
Pressing on its forehead like the signet of decay;
And the cold cloud's troubling tear
On its crystal waters clear,
Like a haunting sorrow gliding down the future of its way.
From the fading forest-eaves,
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And the cold cloud's troubling tear
On its crystal waters clear,
Like a haunting sorrow gliding down the future of its way.
Oh! the quick, precipitous riot
That breaks upon its quiet,
When lingering by some shady bank in dream-engendering rest!
Oh! the stormy wind that mars
The image of the stars,
When they nestle, heavenly lovers! on their earthly wooer's breast!
That breaks upon its quiet,
When lingering by some shady bank in dream-engendering rest!
Oh! the stormy wind that mars
The image of the stars,
When they nestle, heavenly lovers! on their earthly wooer's breast!
But the wild flowers love thy side;
And the birds sing o'er thy tide;
And the shy deer from the highlands confidingly descends;
And to thee, the son of care,
With a blessing and a prayer,
From life's great wildernesses in a thirsting spirit wends.
And the birds sing o'er thy tide;
And the shy deer from the highlands confidingly descends;
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With a blessing and a prayer,
From life's great wildernesses in a thirsting spirit wends.
And the fairies never seen,
Come tripping o'er the green,
To gaze into thy mirror the live-long summer night;
And the glory of the skies
That the blind earth idly eyes,
Fills the pulses of thy being with the fulness of its light.
Come tripping o'er the green,
To gaze into thy mirror the live-long summer night;
And the glory of the skies
That the blind earth idly eyes,
Fills the pulses of thy being with the fulness of its light.
| The Battle-Day and Other Poems | |