| |
| Glimmering meadows miles around, | |
| Drenched with dew and drowsy sound, | |
| Drink the moonlight and the dream. | |
| Veiled in mists the lowlands seem— | |
| Through wild ways and fragrant aisles | 5 |
| Of the country miles on miles | |
| Drifting cloudlike without will; | |
| And soft mist is on the hill. | |
| |
| Everywhere earth’s shrill delight | |
| Shakes and shimmers through the night; | 10 |
| Silver tides of music flow | |
| ’Round the world; the cricket’s low | |
| Harp, the starry ecstasy | |
| Of the keen cicada’s cry— | |
| With, “I love, I love, I love!” | 15 |
| To the cloudless moon above— | |
| Lifts the old, the endless song. | |
| And the firefly, frail among | |
| The low boughs and heavy leaves, | |
| His hushed flight in silence weaves: | 20 |
| Deeper than the love they sing, | |
| The unutterable thing— | |
| The sheer pang wherewith he glows— | |
| Burns his body as he goes. | |
| Now earth draws the trembling veil | 25 |
| From her bosom cloudy pale, | |
| And the messenger of night | |
| Flows to her in shadowed light— | |
| Memories of the absent sun | |
| Dreaming of his lovely one. | 30 |
| |
| From that fiery embrace | |
| Wearied out, with lifted face, | |
| Tangled hair, and dewy eyes, | |
| Drowsed and murmurous she lies | |
| In the bride-sleep, the deep bliss | 35 |
| After some exalted kiss, | |
| Swooning through the darkness dim. | |
| Still with memories of him | |
| Her hushed breath comes fierce and low, | |
| And the love that thrilled her so | 40 |
| Stirs her slumber; from her lips | |
| A deep sigh of longing slips. | |
| |
| Fragrant is thy flowery hair, | |
| O belovèd—everywhere | |
| Thy faint odor on the air | 45 |
| From dread arches of thy grace | |
| Wafted! What dark secret place | |
| Of dusk tresses in the wild | |
| Midnight of thy locks beguiled, | |
| Beckoning vistas of thy sheer | 50 |
| Maddening loveliness, the dear | |
| Curves of thy bright beauty, all | |
| Lure me to thy love! The call | |
| Of past lives is in my breast— | |
| Premonitions dimly guessed | 55 |
| Of seraphic solemn things, | |
| Mingled lips and murmurings | |
| On cool nights that gave me birth. | |
| Yet, O mother, awful Earth!— | |
| What stark mystery no less | 60 |
| Breaks the bosom that I press | |
| Close against thy carelessness. | |
| |
| Where the holy poem of night— | |
| In veiled music and moonlight, | |
| Shimmering cries and stars and dreams— | 65 |
| Onward in soft rhythm streams; | |
| With reluctant pulse and pause | |
| To its lovely ending draws | |
| Thy long passion, when unroll | |
| The starred heavens like a scroll— | 70 |
| The old parable and story, | |
| Some transcendent allegory— | |
| Mother, mother, yet I know | |
| Of cool nights that whispered so | |
| When I was not, long ago! | 75 |
| When thy beauty, murmuring low | |
| With abandon like a bride, | |
| Throws her glimmering veils aside, | |
| The dread love I dare not say | |
| Turns my trembling lips away— | 80 |
| Something deeper, something more | |
| Than I ever guessed before, | |
| A new homesickness at heart | |
| Hungering for the home thou art: | |
| As the rivers to the one | 85 |
| Sea with solemn longing run, | |
| So my being to thy breast, | |
| So my sorrow to thy rest. | |
| Thou art mother, thou art bride— | |
| By what dearer name beside | 90 |
| Must I name thee, must I call, | |
| Who art dearer far than all? | |
| |
| On thy heart I lay my head— | |
| Oh, what is it thou hast said! | |
| Secret beautiful and dread, | 95 |
| Lovely moment drawing near, | |
| Thought most terrible and dear: | |
| To be one with thy complete | |
| Dark sweet loveliness, my sweet, | |
| One with thy wild will again— | 100 |
| To descend in rushing rain | |
| To thy ravished breast, to pour | |
| Through the veins that I adore, | |
| Drink deep draughts of thee, and grow | |
| Through long love and longing so | 105 |
| Into the belovèd, flow | |
| In thy deepest pulse, at home | |
| In the dark and silent loam | |
| Drenched with thee, and tremble up | |
| In the lily’s lifted cup— | 110 |
| Odors, clouds, and starry haze, | |
| Breath of the wet country ways | |
| On cool, moon-clear, fragrant nights; | |
| Or where thy supreme delight’s | |
| Radiant passion draws aghast | 115 |
| Sobs of thunder through the vast— | |
| Shuddering breath and murmur of | |
| Thy fierce wrath of sullen love, | |
| Laughter of thy mingling heart— | |
| In thy lifted lightning’s dart | 120 |
| Through awed heaven’s glimmering bound, | |
| With bright laughter all around, | |
| With dark tears into the ground | |
| Glide, and slake with loving rain | |
| The parched caverns of thy pain! | 125 |
| |
| Rapturous bridal! O wild heart! | |
| To be part of thee, a part | |
| Of this holy beauty here— | |
| Sacred sorrow drawing near! | |
| Sweet surrender! O my sweet, | 130 |
| Longingly my pulses beat— | |
| Dazzling thought and fearful of | |
| The dear fury of thy love!— | |
| Even now that draws me down | |
| My faint body to thine own | 135 |
| Near and nearer yet, till I | |
| Tangled in thy being lie, | |
| Close and close, for sheer excess | |
| Wearied out with loveliness, | |
| All this little self, this me, | 140 |
| Soothed into the self of thee, | |
| Rendered up in ecstasy! | |
| |
| Almost now thou seem’st to steal | |
| From my breast the self: I feel | |
| How my being everywhere, | 145 |
| As in dream, upon the air | |
| Widens ’round me, till I grow | |
| All I look on, overflow; | |
| And into the life adored | |
| All the life of me is poured, | 150 |
| Through warm portals of thy heart | |
| Drifting gently where thou art | |
| Who art all things, in the breeze | |
| Stirring all the tangled trees | |
| To low whispers; how I pass | 155 |
| Through each tiny blade of grass, | |
| Tremble in moonlight, and rise | |
| Looking out of other eyes— | |
| Mystery of mysteries! | |
| Pang of self, and tragical | 160 |
| Birth into the enlightened all— | |
| O dark rapture!—to flow, press, | |
| Cease into thy loveliness, | |
| With exalted weariness | |
| Render up myself, and be, | 165 |
| Selfless, the dear self of thee, | |
| In divine oblivion | |
| One with the belovèd one! | |
| |
| Where I press my burning face, | |
| Weeds and grasses interlace: | 170 |
| Sweetheart, are these dewy, soft | |
| Tears for me, who must so oft | |
| Perish of thee to be thine? | |
| Deep I drink of them, divine | |
| Dizzy draught, bewildering wine! | 175 |
| |
| On the grass my head is bowed. | |
| The vague moon is in a cloud. | |
| From my breast I feel it stream, | |
| All I loved so, like a dream. | |
| Ah, I cannot understand, | 180 |
| But the wind is like a hand | |
| On my forehead in caress. | |
| And the earth is tenderness— | |
| Holy, grave, and very wise, | |
| The deep tears are in her eyes; | 185 |
| While around her sleeplessly | |
| Shrills the restless will-to-be. | |
| Passion for eternity | |
| Shakes in sound and floats in light | |
| Through the darkness. Through the night | 190 |
| Clouds, and dreams, and fireflies, | |
| And my songs of her arise. | |
| |
