The Flight of Helen: And Other Poems

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Elder & Shepard, 1901 - American poetry - 64 pages
 

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Page 7 - The woods are never silent. In the hush Of the high places solemnly there goes, In endless undertone, the stately rush Of music — windy melody that grows, And ebbs, and changes, in uncertain time; As if some pensive god tried here apart Vague snatches of the harmonies sublime, Before he played them on the human heart.
Page 15 - AT MORN. O PATIENT soul that throbs with bitter pain, And finds denied the boon of eyelids stirred By touch of tears; that hears no helpful word, Or bleeds anew to find it lost again ; That sees the laurel long pursued in vain Withered and dropped to dust through hope deferred, And every vision of fair living blurred By blind unreason of the clouded brain : It will not all thy days be dark with thee. His pale-leafed wreath of poppies Time will bind About thy bruised brow's pathetic scars ; And quietude...
Page 25 - ... Anon he took his lyre and let his hand Go wandering here and there among the strings, Touching long, dreamy chords of radiant sound. And each recalled Eurydice. This strain Had echoed her first kindling tones of love ; And that attuned their common hymn of praise At many a ruddy morning sacrifice. So, struggling in this net of vanished days — Ah, days forever sweet for her sweet sake — His feet went slower, and he did not heed How she drew nearer, dragging leaden feet, And weeping, half in...
Page 45 - О the sunny April weather! (Pull, heart, pull at sorrow's tether, To the winds gray trouble flinging.) In the fields, gay prince's feather And tall poppies flaunt together, Giddy with the warm wind's wine.
Page 24 - Orpheus felt the inclination growTo turn and look upon her following. For, through the crowded measure of his thoughts — The weary quest, the pride of end attained — The echo of her footsteps there behind, Crept always in and out like undertone In music. Ever and anon he heard The rustle of her garments ; saw before Upon the gloomy slope her shadow go Like frightened ghost fled from the fires behind, And trembling more with each step toward release. Once, where the way was dark and very steep,...
Page 59 - ... FATHER of light, if we could only know In surety that the little good we do Served in its way to help some other soul ; And that our piteous habit here below Of hoping what our aching hearts want true, Would some time bring us to the longed-for goal, — Then would our way seem hopeful, clear and sweet, And we should journey on with willing feet. Is it so much, this guerdon that we ask ? Now fear as heavy as new-broken wings Hangs on us, lest we do unconscious wrong. But if upon us groping at...
Page 15 - ... again; That sees the laurel long pursued in vain Withered and dropped to dust through hope deferred, And every vision of fair living blurred By blind unreason of the clouded brain. \ It will not all thy days be dark with thee. His pale-leafed wreath of poppies Time will bind About thy bruised brow's pathetic scars: And quietude of peace shall on thee be. Nay, more; at morn thou wilt look back and find .It was but dark that thou mightst see the stars. Over Charles de Kay's irregular sonnet, "The...
Page 22 - ... of pearl were closed again, And the transfigured earth no more gave back The splendid vision, in the downward track Plodded the awed Disciples, saddened men. What if the world showed its old fairness then, Since they at heart knew its supernal lack ! Having seen God, what but the drift and wrack Of prescience was the range of human ken ! And I, like them, go with but laggard feet, For discontent divine within me calls, That I must leave this peace and rest complete, To dream it only in restraining...
Page 43 - SMALL, kindling pulses in dry stems, Green carpets on the lanes ; Bold, little, sudden winds that whirl, And warm, sweet blustering rains — The earth is warm, the heart is warm, The gay acacia blows ; And lo ! the lovely march of flowers In glad procession goes.
Page 22 - YOSEMITE — GOING OUT [Written in the Register at the Guardian's Office, Yosemite.] BUT when the gates of pearl were closed again, And the transfigured earth no more gave back The splendid vision, in the downward track Plodded the awed Disciples, saddened men. What if the world showed its old fairness then, Since they at heart knew its supernal lack ! Having seen God, what but the drift and wrack Of prescience was the range of human ken ! And I, like them, go with but laggard feet, For discontent...

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