POEMS
Vol. I

BY GEORGE MEREDITH

SURREY EDITION

LONDON
THE TIMES BOOK CLUB
376–384 Oxford Street, W.
1912

p. ivEdinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers for the King

Chillanwallah, Chillanwallah!
Where our brothers fought and bled,
Oh, your name is like a natural melody
And a lament for the dead!
Even though we haven't lost,
Even though we can’t be beaten,
Still, whenever your name is mentioned,
I wish that sorrow could be silenced.

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
It’s a name that’s both sad and strange,
Like a breeze through midnight harp strings
Sounding many a mournful change;
But the wildness and the sorrow
Hold their own meaning—
Oh, where no bright tomorrow
Can lighten the dismal tone!

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
   It’s a village dark and low,
By the bloody Jhelum river
   Bridged by the threatening enemy;
p. 2And across the icy water
   He’s prepared to pull back,
When the bloodshed and the killing
   Will have settled his loss.

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
   It’s a wild and gloomy plain,
Covered with patches of dense jungle,
   Stained with blood.
There the killer guns,
   In the deadly ambush,
Created the roar of their betrayal
   Against the skeleton brigade.

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
When night fell with rain,
The ruthless, looting devils
Got to work among the fallen;
And the wounded and dying
Coldly faced the same fate
As their comrades lying around them,
Stiff in the dark, endless gloom.

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
You will be a sad tune,
And a haunting note of grief
That won't need any words;
And that heart will ache with pain
Who may understand you best;
But everyone’s hopes will fade
Until your memory finds peace.

And—‘Look over there! Yo ho! Yo ho!
Nancy is off!’ the farmer shouted,
Walking along the riverbank,
With his red kerchief and brown coat;—‘So,
My girl, who else could jump like that?
So gracefully! Like a lady! ‘Wow!
Look at how she guides the hounds!’
And waving his dusty top hat,
He cheered across the chase-filled water,
And wrapped his arm around his daughter,
And gave Joan a polite hug,
And a kiss that, like a stubborn plug
From generous barrels in wide containers,
The inner richness and spirit echoed:
Eagerly pointing south, where, look,
The daintiest, quickest-footed doe
Leaped over the fields and through the bushes
Beyond: her lively, delicate ears
Pricked up straight, and following her track
A dappled, long-striding pack.

Hardly had they laid eyes on her,
When every heart was put on the line for her,
Half in fear and half in joy,
They watched her beautiful, bounding flight;
Now across the bright green,
p. 4And now beneath the grand trees,
And now far away in the valley,
She moved ahead with graceful ease:
Leaping high with bent knees,
Sometimes over a hedge or gate;
And slowing down gradually,
As if to let the leading opponent wait.
Picking up speed once more
Whenever the eager pursuers got close,
By garden walls and fenced estates,
Where climbing spectators yelled and cheered.
Here winding under elm and oak,
And heading up the sunny hill:
Splashing the water like mist
Among the mill-holms around the mill.

And—‘Let her go; she’s showing her true colors,
My Nancy girl, my pet and treasure!’
The farmer sighed: his eyes filled with joy
Brimming: ‘That’s my daughter’s name,
My second daughter lying over there.’
And Willie’s gaze began to wander,
And instantly caught, with moist eyes,
The white gleams of a gray churchyard.
‘Three weeks before my girl had left,
And while she lay propped up on her pillows at dusk;
The frail fawn—
It still seems like a fawn just dropped
A week ago—to my Nancy’s bed
I brought it as a gift for her:
Both their mothers had passed away:
And my intention was to bless them both,
By giving each a friend; not realizing
How quickly my girl was fading.
And I remember how, to pet
p. 5Its neck,
She stretched out her weak hand,
And its cold nose pressed fondly against her cheek:
I brought the mat
To make a little couch by her side,
Where she could lie during the lonely dark hours:
For neither dear old nurse nor I
Would deny her a single wish.
And there it stayed until the end;
And in the meadows, it hardly played,
Only there for its meals
And milk that I brought: even now
The creature feels such affection
For that old room that, strangely enough,
It sneaks and hides away
To get there, and spends all day in concealment.
And once, when the nurse who since then,
Has been looking after me, was very sick,
Waking at the midnight chime,
And listening to the clock’s ticking,
I heard a rustling, somewhat uncertain,
Right by the dark bed-curtain:
And while I stretched out my leg to kick,
And touch the phantom with my feet,
A loving tongue began to lick
My left hand resting on the sheet;
And warm, sweet breath blew over me,
And that it was Nancy, I knew.
So, for love of her, I had good reason
To name the creature “Nancy.”’

He paused, and in that moment,
His eyes and Willie’s oddly shone.
Joan came closer, and Bessy hung
With her face turned away, close enough
To listen and cry silently; the young
p. 6And carefree ones had dashed off
Meanwhile, and searched for the highest spot
To signal the oncoming chase.

‘Every day in the meadows to graze,
Nancy goes with those dairy cows
You see behind the clematis:
And she’s such a favorite,
That when she’s tired and in a rush,
Hiding from her pursuers,
She bolts when the chase is done,
They’ll gather around and keep her safe,
And lower their horns against the hounds,
And moo, keeping them away!
She fears no harm from the house dogs,
And gets along with everyone on the farm,
Man, and bird, and beast, even though
Their natures seem so different.
And she is known for many miles,
And recognized for her amazing style,
For her clear jumps and quick, light hooves;
She’s welcome in many homes.
And if I say I love her, truly!
That’s just a small part: her beautiful eyes,
Full of memories of my girl, during Yule
And May-time, make her dearer than
Any dumb animal to men, I think.
So dear, I don’t find her dumb.
I know her ways, her littlest glance,
So well; and she’ll come to my hand,
Sideways, for food or a pat,
Just like a loving human might.
And I can’t help but feel, I admit,
A touch of human sorrow
To think there might be such a worry
p. 7That from
the next world she’ll be excluded,
And separated from me! And I remember
How, when my girl’s last moments came,
Her soft eyes, very gentle and kind,
She joined her hands and prayed the same,
That she “might meet her father, mother,
Sister Bess, and each dear brother,
And with them, if possible, one
Who was her last companion.”
Referring to the fawn—the doe you notice—
Because my bay mare was just a foal then,
And time has passed since then:—but listen!’

For like the screaming of a soul
Trapped in a tomb, a dark cry
Of internal wailing agony
Caught them off guard, and all eyes on each
Fixed in the silent, pleading language
Of self-reproachful worry:
Not knowing what to think or do:
But Joan, recovering first, broke through
The sudden pause,
And knelt on the ground, and guessed
The bitterness at a glance, and pulled
Into the comfort of her chest
The trembling figure that drooped
In misery’s stubborn torment,
Before the farmer as he bent,
Touched with accusing alarm:
Soothing her as she cried out:—
p. 8‘Not me! not me! Oh, no, no, no!
Not me! God will not take me in!
Nothing can erase my sin!
I won’t see her: you will go;
You and all that she loves so:
Not me! not me! Oh, no, no, no!’
Pale, her long black hair,
Like seaweed tossed in a storm,
Tangling wildly, to Joan’s care
She surrendered like a lost creature:
Surrendered, drooping toward the ground,
Like something half an hour drowned,
And pulled from the sea with mast and spar,
All dark without its guiding star.
And on that tender heart, hardened
To flatter the lowest grief, and fight
Despair on the edge of night,
She let herself sink, relying
On refuge; and her ear leaned
To comfort; and her thoughts surrendered
To guidance; her wild hair brushed
From her weeping brows; and trembled
With many small sobs that took
Deeper breaths, until into sighs,
Long sighs, they sank; and to the ‘hush!’
Of Joan’s gentle scolding, she tried
Childlike to control them as she should,
Looking up at her innocently.
And Willie, watching them both,
Shivered with joy throughout his body and mind,
To see the love of his life
Like a maternal angel stretch
The sinful and the sinless child
At once on either side, and there
In peace and promise reconciled
Unite them: nor could Nature’s care
With subtler, sweeter kindness
Have nourished the roots of repentance,
Still keeping true, though tested harshly,
The vital support of human pride.

What is the name of King Ringang’s daughter?
Rohtraut, beautiful Rohtraut!
And what does she do all day,
Since she can’t just knit and spin all the time?
Oh, hunting and fishing is always her game!
And, oh! how I wish I could be her huntsman!
I’d hunt and fish so happily!
Be quiet, heart!

And it happened that, after a while,—
Rohtraut, beautiful Rohtraut,—
The boy in the castle has gained entry,
And he has a horse and a huntsman's outfit,
To hunt and fish with the cheerful princess;
And oh! how I wish I could be a king's son!
I love beautiful Rohtraut so dearly.
Hush! hush! my heart.

Under a grey old oak they sat,
Beauty, Beauty Rohtraut!
She laughs: ‘Why are you looking at me like that?
If you’re brave enough, come kiss me.’
The breathless boy exclaimed, ‘Kiss you?’
But he thinks, lucky fate has smiled on my youth;
And three times he has kissed Beauty Rohtraut’s lips.
Down! down! crazy heart.

p. 10Then slowly and quietly, they rode home,—
Rohtraut, beautiful Rohtraut!
The boy was completely enchanted:
‘And if you were Empress this very night,
I wouldn’t care or feel the sting;
Those thousand leaves of the wild woods knew
How I kissed the lips of beautiful Rohtraut.
Hush! hush! wild heart.’

A dove (the bird) flew with an Olive Branch;
It crossed the sea and reached the shore,
And on a ship about to launch
Dropped down the happy sign it carried.

‘An omen!’ rang the joyful cheers!
The Captain bent down and picked it up,
‘Let the Olive Branch be her name,’
Cried the one who threw the christening cup.

The boat danced with the playful waves;
It was a joyful celebration
To watch her glide from her sides
The harsh, salty kisses of the ocean.

And out into the crashing waves
She unfurled her sail and took off,
The rolling surf her endless home,
Her scent mingles with the splashing spray.

Far away, where the chaotic waves
Mix together in restless crowds,
She danced over a thousand graves,
And listened to a thousand salty songs.

Her mission with her strong crew,
Her flag raised high, her name declared,
She brought the Old World to the New,
And carried the New World back to the Old.

p. 12Confident in the warmest welcomes,
She glided through the shining harbors;
Safe on her joyful white wings,
She danced in the ocean breeze.

To her, the fortified castle
No longer shot out its dark flames;
From bay to bay, from port to port,
Everyone longed for her arrival.

And though the storm beat against her often,
And though the rocks had sharp edges,
And lightning struck the masts above,
And thunder shook the boards below,

And though the storm, stubborn and
blind,
Ripped her fearless sail to shreds,
And all the chaos of the wind
Was unleashed on her, she did not falter;

But boldly she sailed the sea,
And wonderfully her welcome rang,
And brilliantly shone to sky and land
The fine goods her decks displayed;

Brought from the fertile Eastern lands
Where the winds carry sweet scents and spice,
Or where the dark, trapped hulls
Are stuck among eerie fleets of ice,

Or where on the rolling hills
Glow groups of bright-eyed grapes,
Or where the laborer's hand digs
To shape the stubborn earth;

p. 13Abundant crops and valuable seeds,
And handmade goods and well-crafted items,
And the spinning of silkworms,
And fruits that thrive near lions’ dens.

Come, read the meaning of the deep!
Learn the ways of winds and waters!
It's not to make the mother cry
For sons who will never come back;

It’s not to make the nations display
Disdain for everyone the seas separate;
It’s not to indulge in war and suffering,
Nor to fuel traditional pride;

It’s not to make the floating mass
Hide death on its slick surface,
Itself eventually a broken wreck,
A horrifying raft, a bleeding disaster.

It is to connect with affectionate words
The interests of one land to another;
To unite in a distant friendship
The tropical and polar shores.

It is to create that bubbling Strength
Whose rebellious forces still struggle
Through all its defined width and length
To become a servant to our will.

It’s to create the different skies,
And all the different fruits they brag about,
And all the treasures of the earth we value,
To serve our home needs.

p. 14And more, because knowledge enriches the experience
Of connecting with other people,
And Wisdom's journey is never wasted
As it crosses the vastness of the poles.

The wild Atlantic's churning darkness,
Seas surrounding the North and South,
The Baltic with its amber foam,
The Caspian with its icy shore;

The wide Pacific, shining bright,
Encircling lands of vibrant growth,
Huge continents and islands of light,
Silent areas of undiscovered laziness;

She visits each of them;
They grow under the same sun;
Through various forms and different languages,
All of humanity is one.

O may her voice have the power to say
How soon the destructive discord ends,
When every wandering wave is happy
With golden fleets of peace!

Now when the ark of human fate,
Long confused by the unpredictable wind,
Is floating with its crowded load,
A safe haven on the heights to find;

Safe haven from the drowning muck
Of wicked actions and flood's rage;—
To stand once more on the foot of Time
On a cleaner, stronger path;

p. 15It's time to check the ground,
To gaze at the sky, to say the word,
To explore the depths,
And send out the tasked messenger,

On strong wings forever,
Let Science, as fast as she can,
Fly across the sea from shore to shore,
And connect the bonds between people;

And just like that beautiful, helpful Dove
Bring good luck to future fleets about to set sail;
Let every cargo be a load of love,
And every ship be an Olive Branch.

Love in the lover’s heart
Burns like the evening star,
Over the sun's remnants,
Until day and night are finished;
Then when dawn arrives—
Look! It’s the morning star.

Love! your love falls on me
Like sunlight on the vine,
Like snowmelt in the valley,
Like the salty breeze in the sail;
Like a song to the bird,
Your name is on my lips.

As a dewdrop on the rose
My passion shines in your heart,
Like a skylark to the sky
I soar into your heart;
Like a sea-shell from the sea
I will always sing of you.

The Snowdrop is the messenger of flowers;
It thrives and fades upon its snowy bed;
And like a thought of spring, it appears and disappears,
Drooping its head beside our bare trees.
The sun’s loving kiss it never feels,
Nor the vibrant joy of golden rain;
But always in a calm, pure rest,
More like a spirit with its peaceful gaze,
Bows its pale cheek lined with tender green.

Queen of her sisters is the sweet Wild Rose,
Born from the warm sun and the youthful June;
The year’s own favorite and the Summer’s Queen!
Shining like the new-crowned crescent moon.
She has that early prophetic look, you know,
Mixed with her lovely glowing blush,
As if her fairy blood is visible;
Like a gentle evening over sunset snows,
Half twilight violet hue, half crimson glow.

Twin-born are both so beautiful and fair
In everything that delights the eye and charms the air;
In everything that stirs feelings in the mind
And spreads sweet connections for humankind.
Twin-born, even though their times are separate,
They flourish together in the thoughtful heart;
Lovely symbols of the wonders of our condition,
Quiet messengers of fate's predictions!

p. 18For each, following nature's law, fulfills
Itself and its own pure desires;
Living and dying; trusting faith to ensure
New life when eternal Spring touches the hills.
Each perfect in its place; and each satisfied
With that perfection which its existence means:
Not divided by the months that come and go,
But connected by all the flowers that bloom between.
Forever smiling through its brief season,
One in glory and the other in sorrow:
Forever showing to our creative sight,
How simplicity and beauty come together.

Born from the earth's first blind desire
To be a mother and give joyful birth,
Before the northern sun brings such joy,
Look, from her untouched breast the Snowdrop rises;
And before the snows have melted from the grass,
And there's not a patch of green to be seen,
Except for the faint sign on her cheeks,
Alone, unkissed, unloved, watch it pass!
While in the lush peak of the year,
The breeze whispers, and marries the rich air
With her sweet, delightful bridal breath,—
Fragrant and exquisite beyond compare,
And sprinkled with dewdrops on her clear forehead,
Fresh and lively like a Maiden Queen should be
Who accepts the land's devotion as her fee,—
The Wild Rose blooms, all summer for her gift,
Nature's most beautiful and perfect flower.

When April, with her bright blue eye
Comes dancing over the grass,
And all the shy crimson buds
Peek out to see her pass;
As lightly she shakes out her shower of hair
And flutters her rainy wings;
Laughing, she leans
Over the stream,
And loosens and loops
Her hair in the gleam,
While all the young villagers, cheerful as flocks,
Go frolicking around in circles;—
Then Winter, who tamed the fly,
Turns on his back and gets ready to die,
For he can’t stay alive any longer under the sky.

Down the shimmering green valleys,
Down from the snowy hills,
He melts into the shining edge
   And jumps over the blooming edges!
He can't help but brighten their colors,
And even though he wants to move slowly, he has to jump,
   Because the lively Spring spirit pushes him on.
Down the valley and down the path
He jumps and shines, until his moments fade,
Buried in red and pale blossoms,
   While the lovely birds sing his farewell!

p. 20Oh Winter! I would embrace your life,
With a chilly forehead and a tongue like ice,
And never a song my entire life long,—
If such a delightful resting place could be mine!
To die and be buried, and stay that way
As a wandering brook in April’s wake,
Setting my dying eyes forever
On the blooming face of young May.

The moon stands alone in the sky
      Just like you in my soul;
   The sea reflects her image to rest
      Where the white waves roll
         All night in a dream,
         With the light of her beam,
Softly, sadly, hazily reaching the shore.
         The pebbles whisper low
         In the ebb and the flow,
Just like I did when your voice came in moments, tuned to admire:
         Nothing else moved
         Except my heart all unheard
Pounding for happiness that is gone forever.

A awesome man is bad enough on earth;
But oh, the devastating glow of a leader
Once committed to tyranny! Oh, star of emptiness
Darkly shining a light on a nation’s sorrow!
How many men have worn you on their heads!
Alas for them and us! God’s precious
Gift of gracious providence stolen—
The cursed form of false, unholy vows!
The thief of God and man must pay his price:
And you, John Lackland, despicable prince—
Lowest of England’s curses before or since!
Thrice traitor, coward, thief! Oh, you shall be
The historical warning, trampled and hated
Who dared to steal and tarnish the symbols of the Lord!

A Princess in the eastern tale
Walked through a pale marble city,
And saw in eerie stone shapes
The sculpted life she lived by herself;

Saw, wherever her eye could see,
She was the only one who changed;
And she heard her echoed footsteps sound
Between Forgetting and Time;

And in the squares where fountains splashed,
And up the spiral railing,
Through the sleepy hallways,
Even to the deepest sleeping areas,

Surveyed in awe, filled with fear
The appearance of Death, not truly gone;
Life's illusion but without its chaos,
And silence covering everything;

Crowned figures, cold and gathering slaves,
Like suddenly stopped waves
About to sink, about to rise,—
Strange meaning in their troubled eyes;

And fabrics and sofas are alive with fire
Of fierce leopards and gentle lions,
And hunters in the jungle grass,
Cast out by dark, glowing scenes;

p. 23Quiet rooms layered with folds,
And heavy splendor of gold;
White windows above decorated chairs,
Overlooking empty streets,—

On palaces and columned towers,
Unaware of the stony hours;
Harsh gateways startled by a sound,
With burning lamps all polished around;—

Surveyed in wonder this wealth and condition,
Touched by the hand of Fate,
And felt with a gradually rising fear
The seriousness of the atmosphere;—

And slowly, with quieter steps,
She turned into something as silent,
And listened,—while with quick fear
Her unfamiliar heart recoiled from the allure;

Yet as her thoughts expanded and grew,
Took pride in the peaceful view,
And over every poised shape
Spread like lava and warmed the landscape,—

And focused on every frozen face
Saw the record of its lineage,
And in each carved feature recognized
The turbulent life that once flowed through;—

The constant presence of the past
There it's written; everything that shone bright,
Love, pain, hope, sickness, despair,
Beauty and anger, all captured there;—

p. 24Enchanted Passions! whose pale fate
Is never brightened by decay or growth,
But watched over by silent stars,
Whose light the colorless scene absorbs.—

Like someone like that, I walk through
This City with its sleeping crowd;
Like her, filled with fear and wonder, that shifts
To excitement, and deeply longs;—

For now, the quiet stars look down
On lights as calm as their own;
The streets that used to be filled with traffic show
As if silenced and paved below;

The latest partiers are at peace,
The signs of indoor chaos stop,
From lively bar and shady spot,
Not a single murmur or report comes:

The loud chariot doesn't roll by,
The windows reveal no waking eyes,
The houses don't smoke, and the air
Is clear, and everything's peaceful at midnight.

The center of the striving world,
Around which human fate revolves,
To which the future cries out wild,—
Is cradled like a sleeping child.

The palace roof that protects a crown,
The mansion wrapped in soft dreams,
Shack, estate, and back alley,
Rest in the stillness of the dead.

p. 25Now while the heart with many desires
Is quiet—by the fireplace and in the busy market,
And human heartbeats play the rhythm
That captivates the serene, cold ear of the moon.

Whose yellowing crescent in the West
Leans in to listen, now when every heart
Its lowest or its highest beats,
The soul that rejoices, the soul that mourns;—

While Fame is celebrating joyful people
That day will thoughtlessly ignore, while promises
Of painful love, long kept secret, express
From a trembling tongue and blushing cheek

The language only known to dreams,
Rich eloquence of rosy themes!
While on the beauty’s closed lips
Disdain just creases youthful beauty;

While poverty gives out charity
To outcasts, food, and healing remedies;
While old Mammon recognizes himself
As the biggest beggar for his wealth;

While noble things feel their way in the dark,
The Statesman's goal, the Poet's dream;
The Patriot's drive sparks with passion,
And the seeds of future success reach for the light;—

Now while simple nature has its connections,
And drinks from one shared source,
I feel like I see all around me
This image of Eternity;—

p. 26A marbled city set in place
With all its celebrations and sorrow;
A quiet crowd, a Death that’s not fully gone,
But frozen by Medusa’s gaze;—

And in the Gorgon’s stare forever
The lifeless immortality
Shows in carved stillness all
Its most recent life that can’t be remembered.

Gray with all the honors of age! but fresh-faced and rosy
Like dawn when the sleepy farmyard has heard the rooster crow three times.
Tender to the point of tears—childlike, yet strong, and nurturing;
Here beats true English blood, filled with joy on sweet English soil.

Lakes where the sunlight shines beautifully with brilliance and warmth;
Valleys where sweet life feels like eternal Summer filled with golden romance:
Forests that sparkle with twilight around vibrant palaces;
Here in our youthful energy we wander, roaming among ladies and knights.

Image an island smiling green in the white-foaming ocean;—
Full of ancient woods, leafy wisdoms, and playful fairies;
Passions and celebrations; sweet love singing like a bird above it;
Life in all its forms, goals, and destinies, is there warmed by one great human heart.

Like to some deep-throated instrument whose grand inspiration,
   Serenely majestic in its sound, lofty and calm,
   Translates to humans with a melody as great as its weight
The mystical harmonies ringing out forever through the bright spheres.

Excited like an eagle soaring toward the distant sky
Unafraid of hard work or exhaustion, it proudly glides!
Dressed in the vast, soft colors of the soothing East
Look! The great story unfolds, revealing the deepest truths about humanity.

A stream shimmering under green leaves, happy and joyous,
And full of a constantly refreshed gurgling melody—
Renewed through all the changes of the sky, constantly in sunlight,
Constantly in moonlight, but quiet in the light of the holier orb.

Do you see? a skylark whose shining wings rising
tremble like beats beneath the cheerful dawn?
Deep in the longing distance of the sky it flutters—
Wisdom, beauty, and love are the gifts it brings down at night.

A breath of the mountains, newly formed in the majestic regions,
   That gaze with their eye-catching peaks deep into the sky.
   The voice of great Nature; elevated with her grand ideas,
Yet sincere and simple like any sweet child of the green, gentle valley.

The song of a nightingale echoed through a sleepy valley,
Heavy with twilight, and entranced by the sorrowful sound,
Captivated by a gentle magic; the desire of passion
That achieves immortality even while gasping in a frenzy with death.

Violets, shy violets!
How many hearts are like yours!
Who hide themselves in the densest green,
And from there, unseen,
Captivate the enthralled air
With sweetness, dewy fresh and rare!

Violets, shy violets!
Human hearts to me will be
Invisible violets in the grass,
And as I walk by,
Scents and sweet images
Will follow me and bring me joy!

Heavenly love that stoops with heavenly lips
To meet its earthly mate;
Heroic love that can face its sphere’s eclipse
And dare to join its fate
With one devoted human heart, And share with it the passion and the pain, The undying bliss
Of its most fleeting kiss;
The fading grace
Of its sweetest embrace:—
Angelic love, heroic love!
Whose birth can only be above,
Whose wandering must be on earth,
Whose haven where it first had birth!
Love that can part with everything but its worth,
And find joy in every sacrifice
That beautifies its Paradise!
And gently, like a vine with golden fruit,
With earnest tenderness it entwines,
And climbing up, deliriously embraces
Its dear delicious arms
Round the beloved being!
With fair unfolded charms,
All-trusting and all-seeing,—
Grape-laden with bunches of young wine!
While to the panting heart’s dry yearning thirst
Buds the rich dewy mouth—
p. 33Tenderly lifted,
Like two rose leaves drifting
Down in a long warm sigh of the sweet South!
Such love, such love is yours,
Such heart is mine,
O you of mortal visions most divine!

Do you know the gentle breeze
               That softly sings
   In the shivering leaves of twilight trees,
As if the wind were dreaming on its way?
   And have you noticed their quiet tones
   Of fading melody, like the strings
Of a silver harp played by a spirit’s hand
      In some mysterious land,
               Among flowing springs,
               And glimmerings
Of waters and of stars, wild and grand?
   And have you noticed in that calm time
   The shining rides of those bright cars
   Light up the quiet dark,
               And paused to listen
To that Voice, among the poplar and the lime,
   Stop in the expanding glow
               Of the starry cluster;
   Pause just to renew its sweetness, deep
As dreams of heaven to souls that sleep!
   And felt, despite life’s harsh wars,
               When day is done
               And the sun has set,
   Still a divine voice can sing,
   Still is there sympathy to bring
               A whisper from the stars!
Ah, with this feeling you will quickly know
p. 35How I tremble like a tree at the sounds
               Of your sweet voice!
               How deeply I rejoice
   When within me, with gentle motions slow,
The spiritual music ebbs and moans—
Lives in the shine of those heavenly eyes,
Dies in the light of its own paradise,—
Dies, and comes back to life from its death,
Immortal melodies in each deep breath;
Flows through my being, lifting to you
Myself, the weight of its eternity;
Till, strengthened by its fiery trial,
It unites music with the human heart,
Blending divine joy with the loveliest desire.

Where's it at? faces are pale, where eyelids are dry,
Where passion is quiet and hearts never yearn;
Where thought has no subject, and where sleep has no dreams,
In patience and peace you have gone—to your grave!
Gone where no call can wake you to morning,
Dead even though a thousand hands reach out to save.

You came to us sighing, singing, and dying,
How could it be any different, as beautiful as you were?
Calmly fading, sinking, and fading away
At last into that shadow, the final desert;
Wasting and diminishing, but still, still remaining.
Alas for the hand that could deliver the death-blow!

The summer that brings warmth, the winter that covers everything in white,
   The world and its sounds, the ocean and the sky,
The beauty of creation, the bond of connection,
   Everything—it's all meaningless to your ear and your eye;
The ear can't hear, the eye can't shine,
   Never again stirred by a smile or a sigh.

The tree that has no roots will always be fruitless;
And you are alone in your death and your birth;
No final loving token of a broken wedding love,
No sign of your uniqueness, sweetness, and value;
Lost like the flower that gets washed away in the rain,
Fallen like a snowflake to melt into the earth.

Grab your lute and sing
By the crumbling castle walls,
Where the rushing water falls,
And long weeds sway:
   Grab your lute and sing,
Over the old family grave!
   Daughter of a King,
      Play your tune.

Sing of happy times,
In the rush of passing days;
Till all the echoes sound
For the times long past;
Sing of fleeting moments
To the always-present sky;—
Cry—and let the rain
Wake your flowers.

Sing of glories lost:—
No more the decorated banner
From the flag is unfurled;
The golden sun has set.
Sing of his glory gone,
For your voice might still enchant him;
Daughter of the dawn,
He is gone!

p. 38Let all your sorrow flow!
Play the strings passionately,
Combine them trembling with your words;
Fierce words of lament!
Let go of your dried-up grief—
But don’t cling to Autumn in your despair;
The swirling of the leaf
Must be short-lived!

Sing up to the night:
It's hard for streaming tears
To see the calmness of the skies;
They shine coldly;
Sing up to their light;
They have insights you can perceive—
Gain prophetic vision
From their light!

On the windy hills
Look, the little harebell leans
On the grass that it rules,
With a blue bonnet;
Trusting love brings
True love and respect;
Learn what love brings
On the hills!

By the side of the road
Calm snowdrops hang their heads,
Gently marked with pale green lines,
Soon, soon, to fade;
On the covered hedgeside
Groups of rosy beauties compete,
In their promised
Summer splendor.

p. 39Learn from the snowdrop;
She doesn't exist in her pale life,
But in her vibrant promise.
So let your hopes be,
   Alive just to long
For the unseen possibilities;—
   Even in the urn
      Let them glow!

Heroes of your race—
Warriors with golden crowns,
Ghostly figures with marble frowns
Stare you to stone;
   Matrons of your race
Walk by you, mourning;
   Full of solemn grace
      Is their pace.

Their despair is so tragic!
Their faces are so hopeless!
Their ghostly scorn is so awful!
Still, hold on tight;—
Don't pay attention to their despair!—
You are your future, not your past;
Let them stare and glare
Through the air.

You, the bud of the ruin,
Don’t be that damp, sweet-smelling weed
With its tapestry-like patterns,
And the stalk that haunts the ruins;
You, the bud of the ruin,
Stay the rose that brightens the path,
Blend your fragrant essence
With the flood!

Never, oh never,
Since fresh and lovely Flora
Was swept away by Zephyr,
Has anything like this been heard
            In the hollow valleys!
Until rosy Aurora,
Rising as always,
Bright Phosphor to follow,
Pale Phoebe to break apart,
Was captured like a bird
            In the arms of Apollo!

Wildly she flutters,
And blushes all over
With passionate murmurs
Of shame in the quiet
Of his romantic whispers:
But oh, such a lover
Must succeed when he speaks,
Through rosy red lips,
The pains that reveal
The desires that flow
From the lights of Hesperus.

One finger lightly touching
The Eastern room,
Released the rushing
p. 41Of light that illuminated
            All her radiant reveal.
On clouds of golden glow,
Her limbs vividly blushing,
She lay softly crying,
In fragrances that darkened
On the God as he thrived
            Over her beauty fading.

Great Pan in his hiding place
Saw the rare glistening,
The cry of the heartbroken,
The sigh and the kiss
Of the latest close embrace;
But love, he thought, listening,
Will not hurt a dove,
I know,—and a tingling,
Filled with bliss,
Pricked through him, I know,
For the Nymph he was focusing on.

The silence before the song—
A gentle quiet fills the woods;
Each tree a harp, its leafy strings
Awaiting the master’s touch
To unleash storms of joy,
Stands still and whispers nothing; the birds
Remain quiet in their anxious nests,
Except for an occasional chirp or tweet,
That expresses fear or nervous love,
Or when the ouzel sends a quick
Half warble, pulling back again
His golden beak, or when the storm-cock
Calls out to the dusking hills
And surrounding villages and valleys:
For look, beneath those ragged clouds
That border the opening west, a stream
Of yellow light and windy flame
Spreads longer southward, and the sky
Begins to darken, and across the ground
A low moan of approaching winds
Creeps and rustles through the crisping grass;
Until suddenly with massive arms
Stretched out, reaching to the horizon,
The great South-West sweeps across the land,
And unleashes all his roaring power
Behind him, over heath and moor.
He comes on the edge of night,
p. 43Like one
That leaps on a fiery steed
Whose sharp black flanks gleam
With eagerness and speed, that needs
No spur to make the dark miles fly!
Whose eyes are meteors of speed;
Whose mane is like flashing foam;
Whose hooves are rumbling thunder-claps;—
He comes, and while his growing gusts,
Wild messengers of his reckless path,
Whistle through the thorny gorse,
And rush over fern and broom,
Midway, far off, he pretends to pause
And gathers in his flowing train.

Now, whirring like an eagle's wing
Getting ready for a wide blue flight;
Now, flapping like a sail that tacks
And scolds the confused, wet mast;
Now, screaming like a tormented thing
Pursued closely by some heavy beak;
Now, wailing like a breaking heart,
That won’t fully break but still hopes
With a hope that knows it’s in vain;
Now, threatening like a stormy cloud;
Now, cooing like a forest dove;
Now, up again in roar and rage
High soaring and wide sweeping; now,
With sudden fury crashing down
Full-force on the waiting woods.

Long waited there, for fragile aspens
That tinkled with a silver bell,
To signal the Zephyr of their love,
When danger approached, and awake
The nearby branches, giving up all
p. 44Their prophet harmony of leaves,
Had caught his earliest thoughts carried by the wind,
And shared it trembling; bare birch
Down showering her messy hair,
And like a beauty surrendering
Her fate to all the elements,
Had swayed in response; hazels close,
Thick brambles and dark brushwood clumps,
And thorny thickets that line the valleys
With rugged, looming brows, had sung
Shrill music, while the torn winds
Rushed over them, and now the whole
Chaotic symphony, seized all at once
With wild inspiration,—pine,
And larch, and beech, and fir, and thorn,
And ash, and oak, and small oak, rave
And shriek, and shout, and whirl, and toss,
And stretch their arms, and split, and crack,
And bend their trunks, and bow their heads,
And grind, and groan, and roar like a lion
To the echo-filled hills
And hungry wilds, and call out like a crake
With harsh joy, and resonate like a cave
With hollow tones, and thrill
With powerful melodies, sublime,
From clusters of columned pines that sway
A lofty anthem to the sky,
Perfect music for a prophet’s soul—
And like an ocean gathering strength,
And murmuring deep, while down below
Calm reigns profound;—not trembling now
The aspens, but like refreshing waves
That crash upon a shingle beach;—
And around the oak a solemn wave
Of organ harmony rises,
p. 45And in the upper leaves sounds
A symphony of distant seas.

The voice of nature is out tonight;
She fills the air with soothing scents;
Her mystery is everywhere;
And anyone who listens now and surrenders
Their being to her yearning sounds,
And lets their soul ride on her wings,
And expands over the wind-swept world
With her, will gain in the journey
More understanding of her secrets, more
Joy in her kindness,
Than hours of contemplation, or the knowledge
That humans possess could ever provide!
And it won’t fade when morning
Shines on the calming leaves,
And woodland sunshine, paradise-sweet,
Dreams over the peaceful paths in shade;—
For every basic power
Is connected to our hearts, and once
Acknowledged, united, once embraced,
Once brought into the free senses,
Once entwined with the raw life,
The bond is eternal.

Follow me, follow me,
Over the brakes and under the trees,
Through the tangled woods,
Brushwood and brambles!
Follow me, follow me,
Laugh, leap, and scramble!
Follow, follow,
Hill and hollow,
Ditches and burrows,
Marshes and furrows,
Down into the bulrush beds,
Among the reeds and willow heads,
In the soggy, rushy damp,
Where the mists set up their camps,
Follow me, follow me,
For a midnight stroll!
Oh! what a thick fog,
What a fun night, oh ho!
Follow, follow, closer, closer—
Over banks, ponds, and thorn bushes,
Down into the croaking ditches,
Rotten log,
Spotted frog,
Bright beetle
With its glowing light,
What a joy, oh ho!
Deep into the purple bog—
What a joy, oh ho!
p. 47Where like groups of wrinkled witches
All the shivering fevers sit
Warming hands and rubbing feet,
By the blue hovering oils of the marsh:
Oh, the fools with all their moans!
Not a forest crazy with fire
Could warm their bones or stop their shaking,
Or free them from their chilly coils.
What a racket,
How they chatter!
Shrink and huddle,
All in a mess!
What a joy, oh ho!
Down we go, down we go,
What a joy, oh ho!
Soon I’ll be down below,
Plunging with a fat grey friar,
Hither, thither, to and fro,
Breathing fogs and swishing lights,
Splashing in the shiny swamps;
While my cousin Lantern Jack,
With big ears and clever eyes,
Turns himself around on his back,
Dabs himself in muddy green and black,
Sits on his rolling side,
Where he lies, where he lies,
Groaning full of drink—
Staring with his big round eyes!
What a joy, oh ho!
Sitting in the swamps
Breathing fogs and swishing lights!
What a joy, oh ho!
Such a guy is Lantern Jack,
When he rides the dark nightmare
Through the marshes, and gives a glare
p. 48In the friar’s path.
What a playful lad, good gracious!
To turn a friar onto his back,
Trip him, clip him, whip him, nip him.
Lay him sprawling, smack!
What a lad is Lantern Jack!
Such a tricky lad, good gracious!
What a joy, oh ho!
Follow me, follow me,
Where he sits, and you shall see!

Just and false! No dawn will welcome
your waking beauty like before;
The little flower beneath your feet
is unfamiliar with your cold smile;
The cheerful bird that has flown up to greet
Young morning from its nest in the wheat
spreads its joy to the woods and fields,
but looks down on the arrogance of gold.

False and fair! I hardly know why,
But standing in the lonely air,
And under the blessed sky,
I plead for you in my despair;—
For you are cut off, both heart and eye
From living truth; your spring completely dry;
For you, that heaven may share my thoughts,
Forget—how false! and think—how fair!

Two married lovers watched the rising moon,
Which, with her strange, mysterious beauty glowing,
Over misty hills and flowing waters,
Crowned the long twilight beauty of June:
And so in me, and so in me, they spoke,
The serious secret of first love awoke.

Above the hills, the glowing sun rose;
Its shape surrounded by a bright arch,
In which the nightingale with magical
Sang enchantment over the quiet night:
And so in me, and so in me, they said,
Earth’s mists married with the sweet new spirit.

High in the sky with a brighter glow,
The moon sat on its throne of night,
And the shadows in the valley slowly faded,
And silver light spread across the open stream.
And just like that in me, just like that in me, they sighed,
Aspiring Love has blessed Passion’s flow.

I can't be apart from you for even a day,
But like a bird with restless wings,
My heart will seek you from far away,
And on your chest, I’ll fall and sing,
My home is here, my peace is here;—
And in the calm of wind and rain,
Fresh voices create a sweet refrain,
‘His peace is there, his home is there.’

With you, the wind and sky are clear,
But when we’re apart, both feel strange and dark;
And the calm air can be deceiving
As it keeps me singing like a lark,
O protect my love, strong arm above!
Until in the stillness of wind and rain,
New voices create a beautiful refrain,
‘The arm above will protect your love.’

Thinking about the fate of Daphne,
Many emotions stirred within me,
For the God who wanted her so badly,
And the Nymph who was so deeply troubled.

Never passed through the wooded valley
Images so beautifully bright!
He with youthful passion glowing,
She with rare, rosy pain.

Only even more sweet and lovely
For those worries on her forehead,
Those quick, wild, brilliant glances,
Those delightful, breathless promises.

Timidly the shy shoulders
Shrinking from the fiery hand!
Dark the tide of hair flowing back
From the blue-veined, calm temples!

Lovely too, divine Apollo
In the rush of his chase;
With his eye a bright blue shimmer,
And his voice a summer tune!

Looking like a shiny eagle
Hovering over a fluttering bird;
Not unnoticed by the silver Naiad,
And of the wistful Dryad heard!

p. 53Many mornings, the naked beauty
Watched her bright reflection fade
In the gently flowing river,
As the god descended, shining down.

Down from the bright Pindus, Peneus
Shares its melodious muse-filled source;
Its fountain birthplace is sacred,
And the East floods its course.

Many mornings the sunshiny darling
Watched the rising rays of the chariot,
From the winding river stretches,
Softening in amber mist.

Through the fiery mountain gorges
Look, the River jumps across the plain;
Like a wild god-driven horse,
Throwing up its foamy mane.

Then he swims through sunlit laurels,
Filled with all sweet sensations,
Misty with his morning incense,
To the mirrored maiden’s feet!

Wet and bright, the shimmering pebbles
Shine where she often paused and stood;
All her dreamy warmth swirling,
While the cold waters beckoned.

Like the rosy-fingered dawn,
Glowing brightly into sight,
When her uncertain foot steps
Out into the first cold morning light.

p. 54As white as that Thessalian lily,
The most beautiful flower in Tempe,
Look, the tall Peneian maiden
Stands under her bathing bower.

There the laurel wreaths overhead
Crowned the delicate, trembling girl;
There the dark, foresighted laurel
Touched her with its sister shade.

There the young green shiny leaves
Hushed with love their breezy sound;
There the little opening flowers
Blushed beneath her red heel!

There among the aware groves
Sounds of gentle, turbulent cries,
Mysteries of love, harmonious,
Appeared with the lyrical wind!

Breathings of a deep enchantment,
Effluence of immortal grace,
Flitted around her unsteady steps,
Spread a soothing balm on her face!

Witless of the enchanted presence,
Like a dreamy lotus bud
Drooping from its sleepy stem,
She gazed into the glowing water.

Softly sweet with a gentle hint,
She sensed that otherworldly feeling,
Savoring the intoxicating magic of love,
Harvesting the joy of deep affection!

p. 55All the air buzzed with the sunrise,
Birds sang songs of her name,
And the water, filled with divine presence,
Embraced her image before she arrived.

Richer for that unaware glance!
Dearer for that gentle surprise!
And the sudden confidence!
And the smile as bright as day!

Plunging through her tangled hair,
With her inviting blue eyes;
Look at her like a star coming down!
Like a rosebud, watch her bloom!

Like a rosebud in the morning
Wiping off its jeweled dewdrops,
Before releasing all its fragrance
It is picked by the muse!

Beautiful in the foamy laughter
Bubbling around her shrinking waist,
Look! From her hair, lips, and eyelids
Rain the glittering, pure pearl drops!

And about the young girl’s joy
Still the red ripples danced,
Fading in surprised circles
When her arms started to wade;

Moving in like tides drawn to
The glowing crescent shine!
Grasping her heavenly whiteness
Like an autumn-colored vine!

p. 56Feeling overwhelmed by love!
Using gazes and words
To imitate all of love's sweet tricks
In Cytherea's enchanting space!

Trembling with admiration
To the red daisy tip
Blooming from the white blossom—
Fainter than the rose-red lip!

Rising in a flurry of little waves,
That seek shelter, pretending to be scared,
Pressed to those two heaving ports,
Harbored there under her light;

Glistening in a swirl of currents
Around her clear throat and neck;
Swirling in a shine of dimples
Against her blooming cheek;

Bribing all the lively water
With rich warmth, the nymph to hold
In a self-imposed pleasure,
Tempting her from deep to deep.

Till at last, overwhelming passion
Thrilled the god to wild extremes,
And the intensity of a moment
Made divinity admit;

And he stood in all his glory!
But so radiant, being close,
That her eyes were locked on him
In a captivated fear!

p. 57All shining with radiant splendor,
All glowing with a rosy birth,
The golden god gleamed before her,
With his golden crescent bow.

Soon the dazzling light faded,
And he appeared as a beautiful young man,
Made to win the girl's whispers,
And to promise vows of truth.

Ah! how I wish he had stayed like that!
Oh, if only it could have been for her!
Poised with all divine beauty,
But so wonderfully calm and human!

Cheeks, and mouth, and soft curls,
Generous as the midday sun;
Pleading glances and longing shivers,
Gentle as a young girl's dream!

Palms that resemble a bird’s beating
chest
Pulsate with excitement,
Lips, the blooms of the roses,
Fresh and sweet from the touch!

Lips and limbs, and eyes and curls,
Swaying, praying to one prayer,
Like a lyre, played by a spirit,
In the calm, enchanted air.

Like a lyre in a distant valley,
Sharing divine melodies!
All its strings for unseen hands
Longing, subtle harmonies!

p. 58Longing with sweet intensity!
Like a beautiful maiden flower,
When the young love is just three steps away
From the wedding chamber.

Throbbing through the quiet of dawn!
Like a heart inside a chest,
As the young love walks in,
Shining bright towards the wedding nest.

O for Daphne! gentle Daphne
Ever warmer by the moment
Whispers full of dreams and visions
Buzz around her ears like honey bees!

Never before has a lonely flower
Been courted with such a sweet voice!
Never since has any woman
Focused on such divine choice!

Love-filled, she trembles, hesitates—
Hesitates, sighs, but never speaks,
All her rosy blood rushing
Overflows her flushed young cheeks.

Blushing, sweet with innocent flushes,
All her beauty aflame,
She stands in the eastern waters,
Overwhelmed with silent shame!

Ah! but more beautiful, always more beautiful,
As the color gets deeper,
And the honey-filled lily
Transforms into the sweet-smelling rose.

p. 59While the god with gentle hugs,
Whispering all his holy spells,
Softly wraps her, gently holds her,
In his pure, surrounding arms!

But, oh Diana! Don't completely
Hide your pale crescent from the morning!
Do not disappear, oh virgin goddess,
With that expression of pale contempt!

Still your pure protective influence
Shed from those beautiful watchful eyes!—
Look! her angry orb has disappeared,
And the bright sun rules the skies!

Voicelessly the forest Virgin
Vanished! but one look she gave—
Sharp as a Niobean arrow
Through the maiden’s heart it drove.

Thus toward that warm embrace
Where the whole earth feels the heat,—every place
Nurtured with autumn’s gifts—
Daphne was caught in a freezing chill.

Icy chill! but quick disgust
All her kinder side revived,
Just like icy Winter stirs
With warmth that opens up buds.

Even as a sluggish little stream,
That reflected the shining moon at night,
Glimmers with frozen looks in turn,
Melts on the warmth of noon.

p. 60But no more—Oh never, ever,
Does she turn to that shining heart,
Quickly all her senses advise,
All her nerves are ready to escape.

Over the peaks of bright Pindus
Rolls a shadow dark and cold,
And a sound of sorrow
Comes from its mournful depths.

Voice of the visionary Muses!
Call of a deep and foreboding song!
Every crack of startled Tempe
Vibrates with it sharp and long.

Over stream and thicket and glen,
Over rivers, over streams,
Runs the sorrowful, obedient Echo
Toward the faint blue distant hills!

And another and another!
It’s a cry more wild than all;
And the hills with hushed voices
Respond ‘Daphne!’ to the call.

And another and another!
It’s a cry so wonderfully sweet,
That her enchanted heart turns against
The instincts of her feet;

And she pauses for a moment;
But his arms have barely wrapped
Around her waist like soft belts,
And his sultry, inviting gaze

p. 61Lifted in supplication, and the sweetness
Of his lips for hers, craving hydration,
Ruby shimmering, lifted for a drink—
Like a flower bud waiting to bloom

In the gentle, loving rain—
And his tongue has barely started
With its unclear burden,
And the clouds hardly reveal the sun

As it breaks through a gap
In the mass that covered it,
When the terror strikes again—
And she runs away once more!

And once more over shining Pindus
Rolls the shadow, dark and cold,
And the sound of sorrow
Comes from its dark embrace!

And once more, the gentle winds tease her
As she quickly slips away from his arms—
And once more, the distant echoes
Share their news of the pursuit.

Loudly now and quickly, quickly,
Across the shining sands she rushes;
Wildly now like in the thickets
From the sharp thorns she suffers.

Deeply and with great sorrow,
As above each red drop
Passion stops the god Apollo,
And love makes him cry and pause.—

p. 62He hovers above each drop of red
Casting a shadow—like the laurel leaf
That looms over itself—
Shedding a timeless expression of sorrow.

Then with love's regretful conflict,
With its own desire in turmoil,
Sighing twists, while faintly fading
Daphne escapes the pursuit far away.

But all of nature is against her!
Pan, with all his woodland crew,
Through the open forest valleys
Blocks her path with shouts and whoops!

In the twilight of the woods
Trees lean down with their twisted branches,
Wild green leaves and low, curved boughs
Catch her hair and brush against her forehead.

Many thickets of brushwood,
Where cold darkness lies silent,
A shrub gets in her way,
A hand reaches out to grab her foot.

Glens and clearings of the greenest greenery
Work her in their brown tangle,
Wildly woven paths and alleys
Restrict her struggling limbs with a leash.

Feathery grasses, flowery mosses,
Knot themselves to trip her up;
Sprays and stubborn sprigs reaching out
Put a bridle on her lips;

p. 63Many winding paths reveal her,
Many a sudden leafy shoot,
And her knee causes many a trip
Over some hidden, damp old root,

Whose unique face peeks out, green and dark
Amongst the tangled growth of plants,
As she moves freely and wildly,
Rushing forward with heavy breaths.

Tangles of the wild red strawberry
Spread their spotted traps, so weak;
In the path, creeping brambles
Catch her in their thorny reach.

All the expansive green grass
Moves and flows from hill to hill;
Gray, rough-barked oak and elm trees
Nudge her along from trunk to trunk.

Lemon groves, citron groves,
Tall plane trees and palms,
Blooming myrtle, light blue olive,
Wave her back with gentle breezes.

Lethargic jasmine, climbing briony,
Walls of tightly woven vines,
Wrap themselves around her, mixing
With her floating glances, intercepted.

Twisting bindweed, sweet woodbine,
Cling to her, while, red and blue,
On her rounded shape ripe berries
Dash and die in bloody dew.

p. 64Dark running vines linger
Around her light limbs, they drag and twist;
Around her waist, with lazy tendrils,
The juicy vine reels and wraps.

Reining in the flying creature
With its arms around her mouth;
Bursting all its sweet bunches
To lure her thirsty desire;

Crowning her with loving clusters;
Pouring fresh wine down her sloping back
In sparkling streams,
Following her in a crimson trail.

Buried, soaked in fresh dew,
So she sparkles in the morning,
Observed by every forest animal,
Swift-footed Oread, playful Faun.

Silver-sandaled Arethusa
Not more quickly did the sands escape,
Escaped the plains and escaped the sunlight,
Escaped the whispering ocean shores.

Oh, how I wish the earth would open up!
Oh, how I wish the shadows would conceal!
Oh, how I wish the gods would protect!
Caverns lead and oceans separate!

Not more faintly soft-lowing Io
Panted in those starry eyes,
When the sleepless midnight meadows
Piteously begged the skies!

p. 65Still, she hurries, breathless in her escape
By the holy stream,
And the god, with a golden speed
Follows like a beam from the east.

Her the thick, confusing greenery
Darkens with its deepest green,—
He is welcomed by each little leaf,
Glowing with a bright sheen.

Thus he approaches, and now all Tempe
Rings with his beautiful call,
Paths and blue skies
Shine in his bright, gleaming eye!

All the branches burst into song!
As if from a hidden source
Thousands of sweet notes are flowing
In the nest and in the air.

Glistening and sparkling, the smooth river
And every lush valley;
But of all the vibrant beauty,
The brightest! highlighted by the sun!

Ivy wrapped around her shining ankle,
Vine adorning her glowing brow,
Never was a bride so beautiful,
Daphne, chosen nymph, like you!

Thus he comes closer! and now she feels him
Breathing hot on every limb;
And he hears her quick breaths—
Ah! that they might be for him.

p. 66Oh, that like the flower he steps on,
Bending under his golden feet,
Full of beautiful heavenly passions,
She would lower her bridal head.

O, if only, like the flower she holds,
Nodding from her gentle touch,
Light as the harmless breezes,
She would recognize the god for that!

See! the golden arms are around her—
To the air she reaches and clings!
See! his glowing arms have wrapped her—
To the sky she screams and jumps!

Look! the vibrant hunt of Tempe
Quivers with divine presence—
Look! green sprouts and buds are emerging
From those white arms lifted in prayer!

In the ground, her feet are planted!—
Breasts and limbs and lifted eyes,
Hair and lips and reaching fingers,
Fade away—and everlasting rise.

And the god whose passionate excitement
Holds her finds his tight embrace
Full of throbbing branches,
And new leaves that sprout quickly,

Bound his astonished forehead;
While in fading, gentle waves
Sounds of softly fading pulses
Pause and tremble, pause and flow;

p. 67Go, and return, and hover
On the edge of life,—then escape!
All the pure, heavenly beauty
Is a shining Laurel Tree!

Still in the intense pursuit of love
All its energy is heated;—
But from head to toe, the young woman
Is changed and transformed.

Changed!—yet the green Dryad nature
Is filled with human connections,
And above its suffering lover
Offers deep sympathy;

Sympathies of love and sorrow;
Joy in her divine escape;
Breathing through her overflowing leaves
Comfort to his leaning form.

Vainly now the floating Naiads
Try to find their way through the laurel maze,
Nothing but laurel meets their eyes,
Laurel shines as they look.

Nothing but bright prophetic laurel!
Laurel over eyes and brows,
Over limbs and over chest,
Laurel leaves and laurel branches!

And the listening Dryad tries in vain
To cup her hand to her ear!—
Everything is silent—except for the echo
Fading out in the dreary distance.

There stands a singer on the street,
He has a diverse and fitting audience;
The London night looms above him,
And the lamps around him are shining bright.

His music may be inappropriate—
It appeals to that mixed-up crowd,
And loud is the laughter he draws
From those unfortunate souls who revel in crude jokes.

But how unfortunate is the passerby
Who as they walk glances over
To see the divine human form
Transformed like Circe's into pigs!

Make up the total of either gender
That all our human hopes confuse,
With those unfortunate figures that know
The quiet streets and pale dawn.

And can I see in those lifeless eyes
Of cozy evenings or country skies?
And could those tired cheeks dare to recall
Memories of a springtime bloom?

Those damaged shapes have been
The pride of many blooming fields;
And still the pure heart rises
With fields of daisies and dewy leaves.

p. 69But deep darkness rules inside
The river of death from the sources of sin;
And one prophetic stream flows
Its gas-lit surface for their souls.

I won’t hide the heartbreaking scene—
Those drowned black hair, those lifeless white lips,
Will emerge from the slimy water,
And plead before God’s throne for justice!

Those stiff limbs, that swollen face,—
Pollution’s last and best embrace,
Will call, just like this image can,
For payback against humanity.

Listen! How their weak laughter echoes,
While the song seller still sings,
And flatters their troubled hearts
With harmful words and sharp jokes.

O how would every daisy blush
To see them in that earthy crowd!
O silent would be the evening thrush,
And gray would look the hawthorn bush!

The meadows of their childhood
Would turn away from them, and every tree,
And every little joyful place,
Would quiet down and not recognize them.

Precursor to what black despairs
Was that child’s face which once was theirs!
And O to what a world of deceit
Was heralded by that young angel’s smile!

p. 70That face that was a comfort to a father;
That smile that made a mother’s heart
Feel more at ease than a swift swallow’s flight!

O happy homes! that still they know
At times, with what a sorrow
Would you look at them, unclear and strange,
Enduring worse than winter's change!

And yet if I could move them there,
To breathe the pure air
Of their youth once more, and again make peace
Between their abandoned faces and nature’s smile;

Could I just give them one clear day
Of this delightful, loving May,
Free their souls from dark anguish,
And have them stand beneath the lark;—

I believe that Nature has the ability
To reattach her damaged flower
To the broken stem, bringing back
Some of its original color;—

The flood of tears flows freely,
More valuable than the holy stone;
At least brings a brighter vibe,
And restore their sense of womanhood.

Alas! how many lost souls seek
This refuge from their despair and shame!
How many, yearning for the light,
Sink deeper into the abyss tonight!

p. 71Oh, crying sin! Oh, shameful thought!
Not just to those who caused
The suffering and fatal curse;
But to those who have shunned them tonight!

O, the pain of grief! For who
Less delicate than his kind, will fight
So bravely for their human rights,
As to awaken this startled night?

Proclaim this wicked human era
Will always stain the Golden Age
That poets dream of and saints welcome,
If it remains unredeemed tonight?

This night of deep seriousness,
And lush calmness,
While over every fluffy field
The dew falls and scents arise.

This night of shining streams and waterfalls,
Of darkened woods and nature's calls,
Of starlight on the rocky brooks,
And twilight covering the surrounding hills.

This night! when from the paths of people
Gray mistakes rise like from a swamp;
As over this glowing City wraps
The dark cloud- mist that it exhales!

This night, from which a morning will emerge
Blooming on its eastern wing;
A morning to follow many others
Its ghostly waves on the twilight shore.

p. 72Morning! When the fate of all humanity
Is uncertain, and people are clueless.
His responsibilities for the day will feel like
The reality of life, and mine like a dream:

The fates that poets have praised,
Renewal for the young,
Echoes of the truth,
And good values for the youth!

Youth! in this time, let there be plenty
Of flowers and fruits scattered around,
Pleasurable joy where love agrees,
And health and happiness set up camp:

All joy and all pure happiness;
A garden untouched by destruction;
But never the unnatural sight
That crowds the shameless song tonight!

Under the branches of life-filled May,
During the gentle springtime I rested,
Alone, because I had no love;
      And the lovely birds all sang in sympathy,
   Cuckoo, lark, and dove.

Tell me, cuckoo, I cried,
Should I try to win and marry a bride?
I, like you, have no home-nest;
      And the twin notes sang their tune,—
   ‘Love knows best.’

Nor, warm dove with tender coo,
Do I have your soft voice to woo,
Even if there were a girl nearby;
      And the deep woods sang its tune,—
   ‘Love her first and give it a shot.’

Nor do I, wild lark, have your wing,
That from the bluest sky can bring
Joy, no matter what happens;
And the sky musician sang this
‘Love will give you everything.’

So it happened while June was new,
Courting nicely with passionate song,
I had won a shy girl;
      And the lovely birds that sang out of sympathy,
   Celebrated with joy.

How? sweet on sunny afternoons,
For those who travel light and carefree,
To hang out on a hilly slope
That conceals the view far ahead,
And imagine the entire landscape stretched out
         Beautiful and still;

Beneath a summer blue sky,
With fluffy clouds, soft and gentle,
They look down on the scene we’re waiting for
And reflect the calm they bring;
So peacefully leaning over the earth
         Float those loving shapes!

Like light brides, each choosing
A place to love and cherish,
Their soft chests glowing warmly,
Until distance ties them to the hills,
And with its final shine the river
         Sinks in their embrace.

And the river flows like silver,
And it creates many graceful breezes,
By fields where joyful flocks graze,
And hedgerows quieting pleasant paths,
The beauty of an English home mirrored
         In his bright eye:

p. 75Ancestral oak, wide-leaved elm,
Lush meadows bathed in sunlight and dotted with flowers,
The cottage exhaling gentle smoke
In the warm, golden atmosphere,
With views of an impressive mansion
         On a woodland sward;

And circling around, like a ring,
The distance spreading a warm haze,
Surrounding hills and sweet meadows;
A depth of soft and gentle light
That fills the heart with a sudden longing
         Aimless and calm!

No disillusionment happens here,
For nature’s creativity drives
The dream that she herself brings to life;
And he whose heart, like the warmth of a valley,
Rises with joy at scenes like this
         Will never be alone.

And oh, for any human soul
The joy of a broad view—
A valley stretching to the West,
With all its beautiful riches,
Is more than enough reward for days
         That taught us to endure.

That hillside over there that blocks the sun
Rising from its eastern depths,
And now set against the colors of dawn
A flat stretch of cultivated land stands;
The lined forehead of hard work and time;
To many, it’s just a stretch of land!

To others, it’s an Autumn trust,
But to me, it’s a mystery;—
A strange and swift influence like dreams;
A whisper of old romance;
A temple open to the clouds;
Or one of nature’s bosoms freshly revealed,

Heaving with adoration!
The work of farming is done,
And daily bread is earned every day;
It doesn’t seem like there’s anything to show
The feelings inside me that inspire these thoughts,
But from my heart, a spirit brings them to life.

All day under the open sky,
All night to the endless stars,
Forever both in morning and evening
People smooth out long distances,
And shadows stretch out in the twilight,
Across the sky it rolls its shining line!

When twilight settles from the dream-colored West
Sighs quiet down! and the whole land is still;
p. 77When, from the rich purpling East,
The twilight of the crowing rooster
Looks over the sleepy village roofs,
Across the sky, that shimmering line can be seen.

And now under the rising
sun,
Whose shining chariot looks down
Over the bright ridge, while deep in the rich
Soil his horses plunge—
How majestic in robes of light it appears!
How glorious with unique, inspiring beauty!