Songs Of The Summer Days

    I.

    A glory on the chamber wall!
    A glory in the brain!
    Triumphant floods of glory fall
    On heath, and wold, and plain.

    Earth lieth still in hopeless bliss;
    She has, and seeks no more;
    Forgets that days come after this,
    Forgets the days before.

    Each ripple waves a flickering fire
    Of gladness, as it runs;
    They laugh and flash, and leap and spire,
    And toss ten thousand suns.

    But hark! low, in the world within,
    One sad aeolian tone:
    "Ah! shall we ever, ever win
    A summer of our own?"


    II.

    A morn of winds and swaying trees--
    Earth's jubilance rushing out!
    The birds are fighting with the breeze;
    The waters heave about.

    White clouds are swept across the sky,
    Their shadows o'er the graves;
    Purpling the green, they float and fly
    Athwart the sunny waves.

    The long grass--an earth-rooted sea--
    Mimics the watery strife.
    To boat or horse? Wild motion we
    Shall find harmonious life.

    But whither? Roll and sweep and bend
    Suffice for Nature's part;
    But motion to an endless end
    Is needful for our heart.


    III.

    The morn awakes like brooding dove,
    With outspread wings of gray;
    Her feathery clouds close in above,
    And roof a sober day.

    No motion in the deeps of air!
    No trembling in the leaves!
    A still contentment everywhere,
    That neither laughs nor grieves!

    A film of sheeted silver gray
    Shuts in the ocean's hue;
    White-winged feluccas cleave their way
    In paths of gorgeous blue.

    Dream on, dream on, O dreamy day,
    Thy very clouds are dreams!
    Yon child is dreaming far away--
    He is not where he seems.

    IV.

    The lark is up, his faith is strong,
    He mounts the morning air;
    Lone voice of all the creature throng,
    He sings the morning prayer.

    Slow clouds from north and south appear,
    Black-based, with shining slope;
    In sullen forms their might they rear,
    And climb the vaulted cope.

    A lightning flash, a thunder boom!--
    Nor sun nor clouds are there;
    A single, all-pervading gloom
    Hangs in the heavy air.

    A weeping, wasting afternoon
    Weighs down the aspiring corn;
    Amber and red, the sunset soon
    Leads back to golden morn.