Where shall we find her? how shall we sing to her,
Fold our hands round her knees, and cling?
O that man's heart were as fire and could spring to her, Fire, or the strength of the streams that spring!
For the stars and the winds are unto her
As raiment, as songs of the harp-player :
For the risen stars and the fallen cling to her,
And the Southwest-wind and the West-wind sing.
For Winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover;
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remember'd is grief forgotten;
And frosts are slain, and flowers begotten;
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the Spring begins.
The full streams feed on flower of rushes;
Ripe grasses trammel a traveling foot;
The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes
From leaf to flower and flower to fruit ;
And fruit and leaf are as gold and fire;
And the oat is heard above the lyre;
And the hoofed heel of a satyr crushes
The chestnut husk at the chestnut root.
And Pan by noon, and Bacchus by night,
Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid,
Follows with dancing, and fills with delight
The Mænad and the Bassarid;
And, soft as lips that laugh and hide,
The laughing leaves of the trees divide,
And screen from seeing and leave in sight
The God pursuing, the Maiden hid.
The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair
Over her eyebrows, hiding her eyes;
The wild vine slipping down leaves bare
Her bright breast shortening into sighs;
The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves,
But the berried ivy catches and cleaves
To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare
The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies.
A little marsh-plant, yellow green,
And prick'd at lip with tender red!
Tread close, and either way you tread
Some faint black water jets between,
Lest you should bruise the curious head.
A live thing, may be who shall know?
The Summer knows, and suffers it :
For the cool moss is thick and sweet
Each side, and saves the blossom so
That it lives out the long June heat.
The deep scent of the heather burns
About it; breathless though it be,
Bow down and worship! more than we
Is the least flower whose life returns,
Least weed renascent in the sea.
We are vex'd and cumber'd in Earth's sight
With wants, with many memories:
These see their Mother what she is,—
Glad-growing, till August leave more bright
The apple-colour'd cranberries.
Wind blows and bleaches the strong grass,
Blown all one way to shelter it
From trample of stray'd kine (with feet
Felt heavier than the moor-hen was),
Stray'd up past patches of wild wheat.
You call it Sundew: how it grows,
If with its colour it have breath,
If life taste sweet to it, if death
Pain its soft petal, no man knows :
Man has no sight nor sense that saith.
My Sundew! grown of gentle days,
In these green miles the Spring begun
Thy growth ere April had half done
With the soft secret of her ways,
Or June made ready for the Sun.
O red-lipp'd mouth of marsh-flower!
I have a secret halved with thee:
The name that is love's name to me
Thou knowest, and the face of Her
Who is my festival to see.
The hard sun, as thy petals knew,
Colour'd the heavy moss-water :-
Thou wert not worth green midsummer
Nor fit to live to August blue,
O Sundew! not remembering Her.
These many years, since we began to be,
What have the Gods done with us? what with me,
What with my love? They have shown me fates and fears, Harsh springs, and fountains bitterer than the sea,
Grief a fix'd star, and joy a vane that veers,
With her, my Love,—with her have they done well?
But who shall answer for her? who shall tell
Sweet things or sad, such things as no man hears?
May no tears fall, if no tears ever fell,
From eyes more dear to me than starriest spheres,
These many years!
But if tears ever touch'd, for any grief,
Those eyelids folded like a white-rose leaf,
Deep double shells where through the eye-flower peers,
Let them weep once more only, sweet and brief,
Brief tears and bright, for One who gave her tears
These many years!
THE THREE THAT SHALL BE ONE.
Love, on the earth alit
(Come to be Lord of it),
Look'd round and laugh'd with glee :
Noble my empery!
Straight ere that laugh was done
Sprang forth the royal sun,
Pouring out golden shine
Over the realm divine.
Came then a lovely May,
Dazzling the new-born day,
Wreathing her golden hair
With the red roses there,
Laughing with sunny eyes
Up to the sunny skies,
Moving so light and free
To her own minstrelsy.
Love with swift rapture cried-
Dear Life! thou art my bride :
Whereto with fearless pride—
Dear Love! indeed thy bride :
All the earth's fruit and flowers,
All the world's wealth, are ours;
Sun, moon, and stars, gem
Our marriage diadem.
So they together fare,
Lovely and joyous pair!
So hand in hand they roam
All through their Eden home,
Each to the other's sight
An ever-new delight:
Blue heaven and blooming earth
Joy in their darlings' mirth.
Who comes to meet them now?
She with the pallid brow,
Wreathing her night-dark hair
With the red poppies there,
Pouring from solemn eyes
Gloom through the sunny skies,
Moving so silently
In her deep reverie.
Life paled as she drew near,
Love shook with doubt and fear.
Ah, then (she said) in truth
(Eyes full of yearning ruth)
Love! thou wouldst have this Life,
Fair May, to be thy wife?
Yet at an awful shrine
Wert thou not plighted mine?
Pale, paler poor Life grew;
Love murmur'd-It is true!
How could I thee forsake?
From the brief dream I wake.
Yet, O beloved Death!
See how She suffereth:
Ere we from earth depart,
Soothe her, thou Tender-Heart!
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