 | Poems of the day and year |  |
140
THE ELEVENTH OF SEPTEMBER
Sister, the Daystar, that hath brought me hither,
Once more thy birthday, shines on me and thee,
And by its welcome light I seem to see
The many years that we have sped together,
Winter and summer, still the selfsame weather.
Once more thy birthday, shines on me and thee,
And by its welcome light I seem to see
The many years that we have sped together,
Winter and summer, still the selfsame weather.
Tho' mountains sunder, and the wild sea flings
Its desert 'twixt our hearts—and on the wind
Thy voice is still, so musical and kind;
Tho' world-wide tumults drown, and Time's grey wings
Shadow the past, thy spirit to me sings!
Its desert 'twixt our hearts—and on the wind
Thy voice is still, so musical and kind;
Tho' world-wide tumults drown, and Time's grey wings
Shadow the past, thy spirit to me sings!
Thou art mine own self with a softer frame,
A clearer brow, and eyes more full of thought;
Thou art myself into an angel wrought,
Thy heart an altar, whence the purest flame,
Of hope ascends, for ever and the same.
A clearer brow, and eyes more full of thought;
141
Thy heart an altar, whence the purest flame,
Of hope ascends, for ever and the same.
Thou art my dearest and my first of kin:
The thoughts of man are riddles, but my heart
Tells me in all most truly what thou art:
Thou hast a secret loadstar deep within,
Whereto I thrill in spite of care and sin.
The thoughts of man are riddles, but my heart
Tells me in all most truly what thou art:
Thou hast a secret loadstar deep within,
Whereto I thrill in spite of care and sin.
When cruel passion tore me I could see
Thy pleading eyes, and hear thy tuneful tongue;
When crafty counsels flattered me to wrong,
Justice and Truth with voices clear and low
Spoke to me from the temple of thy brow.
Thy pleading eyes, and hear thy tuneful tongue;
When crafty counsels flattered me to wrong,
Justice and Truth with voices clear and low
Spoke to me from the temple of thy brow.
To thy pure, simple songs I loved to lend
My ear; at thy soft pity's healing word
My spirit sheathed at once its angry sword;
And to thy blessed meekness I could bend
A heart which many tyrants could not rend.
My ear; at thy soft pity's healing word
My spirit sheathed at once its angry sword;
And to thy blessed meekness I could bend
A heart which many tyrants could not rend.
142
The wise world looked, and, seeing dark and bright,
Deemed that in spirit we remained apart:
But we were but as adverse stars, that dart
Their beams into each other, and unite
Aspects of different omen in one light.
Deemed that in spirit we remained apart:
But we were but as adverse stars, that dart
Their beams into each other, and unite
Aspects of different omen in one light.
Thy beauty is the shrine where Mercy dwells;
Thy tongue Love's tender oracle below,
Whence his immortal inspirations flow;
Thine eyes the lightnings, whose soft glory quells
Pride that disdains, and Anger that rebels.
Thy tongue Love's tender oracle below,
Whence his immortal inspirations flow;
Thine eyes the lightnings, whose soft glory quells
Pride that disdains, and Anger that rebels.
As the sun-colour and the crystalline
Mingle together in the summer green—
Nature that shall be and hath ever been,
My heart's quick motions, and the peace of thine
Make one pure love eternal and divine!
Mingle together in the summer green—
Nature that shall be and hath ever been,
My heart's quick motions, and the peace of thine
Make one pure love eternal and divine!
| Poems of the day and year | |