« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »
See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
If it disdained its brother :
And the moonbeams kiss the sea ;-
If thou kiss not me?
I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
In their noon-day dreams.
The sweet buds every one,
As she dances about the sun.
And whiten the green plains under,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast ;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Lightning my pilot sits,
It struggles and howls by fits ;
This pilot is guiding me,
In the depths of the purple sea ;
Over the lakes and the plains,
The Spirit he loves remains ; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
When the morning star shines dead. As on the jag of a mountain crag,
Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit
In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea
Its ardours of rest and of love, And the crimson pall of eve may fall
Fronu the depth of heaven above,
As still as a brooding dove.
That orbed maiden, with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the moon,
By the midnight breezes strewn;
Which only the angels hear,
The stars peep behind her and peer;
Like a swarm of golden boes,
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Are each paved with the moon and these.
I bind the sun's throne with the burning zone,
And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
Over a torrent sea,
The mountains its columns be.
The triumphal arch through which I march,
With hurricane, fire, and snow, [chair, When the powers of the air are chained to my
Is the million-coloured bow;
While the moist earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of earth and water,
And the nursling of the sky:
I change, but I cannot die.
The pavilion of heaven is bare, [gleams, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex Build
the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain, [the tomb, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from
I arise and unbuild it again.
TO) A SKYLARK.
Hail to thee, blithe spirit !
Bird thou never wert,
Pourest thy full heart
Higher still and higher,
From the earth thou springest
The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Of the sunken sun,
Thou dost float and run;
The pale purple even
Melts around thy flight;
In the broad day-light
Keen as are the arrows
Of that silver sphere,
In the white dawn clear,
All the earth and air
With thy voice is loud,