Poems (Spofford)/Flower Songs
FLOWER SONGS.THE VIOLET.
Soar, solemn skies, your splendid height,
And then in flashing darkness bend,
Wrap the sweet earth about with night,
And wide dim fields from end to end,
Lying far off and low,
Serenely with your brooding mystery blend.
And then in flashing darkness bend,
Wrap the sweet earth about with night,
And wide dim fields from end to end,
Lying far off and low,
Serenely with your brooding mystery blend.
Slumber, sweet earth! Thy lofty shade
Glows with the shining phantom dreams
That haunt thee nightly. Music made
By burdened boughs and rustling streams,
Now falling hushed and slow,
Remotely lapped in dewy silence seems.
Glows with the shining phantom dreams
That haunt thee nightly. Music made
By burdened boughs and rustling streams,
Now falling hushed and slow,
Remotely lapped in dewy silence seems.
And ever blow between, faint air,
Blow with light, hesitating breath
From melancholy places where
Perpetual fragrance wandereth.
O'er grave and garden blow,
Over warm life, and over lonely death.
Blow with light, hesitating breath
From melancholy places where
Perpetual fragrance wandereth.
O'er grave and garden blow,
Over warm life, and over lonely death.
And while the murmur rang, the sudden stir
Of branches tost in a tumultuous gust
Of showers and sweetness, darkling, swept the brow
And passed. And through the fluted melody
There breathed that sound that silence listens to—
The crickets chirping their unbroken strain
On th' hill-side, in the black warm summer night,
Thrill of ethereal tone, as if were heard
The rustle of the great orb's wings through space,
What time the brede of stars its lustre floats
In self-poised circles, and the dusk is deep.
Of branches tost in a tumultuous gust
Of showers and sweetness, darkling, swept the brow
And passed. And through the fluted melody
There breathed that sound that silence listens to—
The crickets chirping their unbroken strain
On th' hill-side, in the black warm summer night,
Thrill of ethereal tone, as if were heard
The rustle of the great orb's wings through space,
What time the brede of stars its lustre floats
In self-poised circles, and the dusk is deep.
And then, as when across one's rarest dream,
Just drawing off from the rich dregs of sleep,
A cheery cry comes, and a broken tune,
And in the covert of their odorous depths
The robins shake their wild wet wings and flood
The shallow shores of dawn with music, till
The world is rosy,—so another voice
Stole toward me, and I saw the hyacinth
With its white helmet part the sun-soaked sod.
And heard, as if from out the bells that wreathe
Its spire of piercing perfume dropped the tones
Like rain-drops tinkling in a way-side pool.
Just drawing off from the rich dregs of sleep,
A cheery cry comes, and a broken tune,
And in the covert of their odorous depths
The robins shake their wild wet wings and flood
The shallow shores of dawn with music, till
The world is rosy,—so another voice
Stole toward me, and I saw the hyacinth
With its white helmet part the sun-soaked sod.
And heard, as if from out the bells that wreathe
Its spire of piercing perfume dropped the tones
Like rain-drops tinkling in a way-side pool.
THE HYACINTH.
On topmost twigs when morning burns
And lights his trembling fires,
When from his wing the glad bird spurns
The gray, and with his carol yearns
And to heaven's gate aspires,—
The Maker looks upon his world
That puts her beauty bare,
All freshly, fragrantly impearled
Beneath the tender air,—
Looks on his soft and gleaming world
And smiles to find her fair.
And lights his trembling fires,
When from his wing the glad bird spurns
The gray, and with his carol yearns
And to heaven's gate aspires,—
The Maker looks upon his world
That puts her beauty bare,
All freshly, fragrantly impearled
Beneath the tender air,—
Looks on his soft and gleaming world
And smiles to find her fair.
Then waken, waken,
The earth has taken
Into the sunshine her wondrous way;
Then waken, waken,
The showers are shaken
Loose from the leaves and melt away,
Lost in the beautiful light of day!
The earth has taken
Into the sunshine her wondrous way;
Then waken, waken,
The showers are shaken
Loose from the leaves and melt away,
Lost in the beautiful light of day!
Here the clear singing of the joyous sprite
Startled the echoes of that underworld
Where buds lie sleeping: straight the silent bush
Beside me quivered in the happy light;
The red sap mounted along stem and spray,
In countless hurried convolutions whirled
To break at once into the perfect flower—
The perfect flower—proud was the song she sung.
Startled the echoes of that underworld
Where buds lie sleeping: straight the silent bush
Beside me quivered in the happy light;
The red sap mounted along stem and spray,
In countless hurried convolutions whirled
To break at once into the perfect flower—
The perfect flower—proud was the song she sung.
THE ROSE.
I am the one rich thing that morn
Leaves for the ardent noon to win;
Grasp me not, I have a thorn,
But bend and take my being in.
Leaves for the ardent noon to win;
Grasp me not, I have a thorn,
But bend and take my being in.
The dew-drop on my bosom gives
The whole of heaven to searching eyes,
Only he who sees it lives,
And only he who slights it dies.
The whole of heaven to searching eyes,
Only he who sees it lives,
And only he who slights it dies.
Ah, what bewildering warmth and wealth
Gather within my central fold!
Love-lorn airs of happy health
Hive with the honey that I hold.
Gather within my central fold!
Love-lorn airs of happy health
Hive with the honey that I hold.
This dazzling ruddiness divine
Shrouds spicy savors deep and dear,
Passion's sign and countersign,
The inmost meaning of the sphere.
Shrouds spicy savors deep and dear,
Passion's sign and countersign,
The inmost meaning of the sphere.
Petal on petal opening wide,
My being into beauty flows—
Hundred-leaved and damask-dyed—
Yet nothing, nothing but a rose!
My being into beauty flows—
Hundred-leaved and damask-dyed—
Yet nothing, nothing but a rose!
And shaking off a sudden passionate tear
The rose ceased warble, and in an ecstasy
Shed all her lovely leaves around my feet
And stood discrowned.
Then gently was I ware
Of a pure breath from that delicious hour
When day sweeps all her glory after her
To fresh horizons,—rapt and holy tone
Where lingered yet the note that haply fell
From seraphs leaning o'er the battlements
Of shining tower and rampart far above,
And ever in their idlesse singing praise.
The rose ceased warble, and in an ecstasy
Shed all her lovely leaves around my feet
And stood discrowned.
Then gently was I ware
Of a pure breath from that delicious hour
When day sweeps all her glory after her
To fresh horizons,—rapt and holy tone
Where lingered yet the note that haply fell
From seraphs leaning o'er the battlements
Of shining tower and rampart far above,
And ever in their idlesse singing praise.
THE LILY.
Lift thine eyes, against the deepening skies
All the sacred hills like altars glow,
Waiting for the hastening sacrifice
Ere the evening winds begin to blow.
All the sacred hills like altars glow,
Waiting for the hastening sacrifice
Ere the evening winds begin to blow.
Lift thy heart, and let the prayer depart
To meet the heavenly flame upon the height,
Till all thy shadows to effulgence start,
And the calm brain grow clear with still delight!
To meet the heavenly flame upon the height,
Till all thy shadows to effulgence start,
And the calm brain grow clear with still delight!