« PreviousContinue »
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 at 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,
While 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 beneath
Its ardours of rest and of love,
From the depth of heaven above,
As still as a brooding dove.
That orbéd 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; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,
Like a swarm of golden bees,
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Are each paved with the moon and these.
I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, .
And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ;
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
Over a torrent sea,
The mountains its columns be.
With hurricane, fire and snow,
Is the million-coloured bow;
While the moist earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of earth and water,
And the nurseling of the sky:
I change, but I cannot die.
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
Build up the blue dome of air,
And out of the caverns of rain,
I arise and unbuild it again.
When I hear the the waters fretting,
When I see the chesnut letting All her lovely blossom falter down, I think, “Alas the day!"
Once with magical sweet singing,
Blackbirds set the woodland ringing, That awakes no more while April hours wear themselves away.
In our hearts fair hope lay smiling
Sweet as air and all beguiling, And there hung a mist of blue bells on the slope and down the dell,
And we talked of joy and splendour
That the years unborn would render, And the blackbirds helped us with the song, for they knew it well.
Piping, fluting, “Bees are humming,
April's here, and summer's coming, Don't forget us when you walk a man with men in pride and joy;
Think on us in alleys shady
When you step a graceful lady;
“ Laugh and play, O lisping waters,
Lull our downy sons and daughters, Come, O wind and rock their leafy cradles in thy wanderings coy,
When they wake, we'll end the measure
With a wild sweet cry of pleasure, And a 'Hey down derry, let's be merry, little girl and boy!"
I love to saunter out
And minstrels of the air,
When a brightly glowing gleam,