Whose is the speech
That moves the voices of this lonely beech?
Out of the long West did this wild wind come--
Oh strong and silent! And the tree was dumb,
    Ready and dumb, until
The dumb gale struck it on the darkened hill.

    Two memories,
Two powers, two promises, two silences
Closed in this cry, closed in these thousand leaves
Articulate. This sudden hour retrieves
    The purpose of the past,
Separate, apart--embraced, embraced at last.

    "Whose is the word?
Is it I that spake? Is it thou? Is it I that heard?"
"Thine earth was solitary; yet I found thee!"
"Thy sky was pathless, but I caught, I bound thee,
    Thou visitant divine."
"O thou my Voice, the word was thine."
    "Was thine."

Of a thousand things that the Year snowed under -
    The busy Old Year who has gone away -
How many will rise in the Spring, I wonder,
    Brought to life by the sun of May?
Will the rose-tree branches, so wholly hidden
    That never a rose-tree seems to be,
At the sweet Spring's call come forth unbidden,
    And bud in beauty, and bloom for me?

Will the fair, green Earth, whose throbbing bosom
    Is hid like a maid's in her gown at night,
Wake out of her sleep, and with blade and blossom
    Gem her garments to please my sight?
Over the knoll in the valley yonder
    The loveliest buttercups bloomed and grew;
When the snow has gone that drifted them under,
    Will they shoot up sunward, and bloom anew?

When wild winds blew, and a sleet-storm p...

I.

There are faeries, bright of eye,
Who the wildflowers' warders are:
Ouphes, that chase the firefly;
Elves, that ride the shooting-star:
Fays, who in a cobweb lie,
Swinging on a moonbeam bar;
Or who harness bumblebees,
Grumbling on the clover leas,
To a blossom or a breeze
That's their faery car.
If you care, you too may see
There are faeries. Verily,
There are faeries.

II.

There are faeries. I could swear
I have seen them busy, where
Roses loose their scented hair,
In the moonlight weaving, weaving,
Out of starlight and the dew,
Glinting gown and shimmering shoe;
Or, within a glowworm lair,
From the dark earth slowly heaving
Mushrooms whiter than the moon,
On whose tops they sit and croon,
With ...

I


How shall a maid make answer to a man
Who summons her, by love's supreme decree,
To open her whole heart, that he may see
The intricate strange ways that love began.
So many streams from that great fountain ran
To feed the river that now rushes free,
So deep the heart, so full of mystery;
How shall a maid make answer to a man?

If I turn back each leaflet of my heart,
And let your eyes scan all the records there,
Of dreams of love that came before I KNEW,
Though in those dreams you had no place or part,
Yet, know that each emotion was a stair
Which led my ripening womanhood to YOU.



II


Nay, I was not insensate till you came;
I know man likes to think a woman clay,
Devoid of feeling till the warming ray<...

What is there left for us to say,
Now it has come to say good-by?
And all our dreams of yesterday
Have vanished in the sunset sky -
What is there left for us to say,
Now different ways before us lie?

A word of hope, a word of cheer,
A word of love, that still shall last,
When we are far to bring us near
Through memories of the happy past;
A word of hope, a word of cheer,
To keep our sad hearts true and fast.

What is there left for us to do,
Now it has come to say farewell?
And care, that bade us once adieu,
Returns again with us to dwell -
What is there left for us to do,
Now different ways our fates compel?

Clasp hands and sigh, touch lips and smile,
And look the love that shall remain -
When severed so by many a mile -

Now the sun hath gone to rest,
Stars are coming faint and dim,
And the bird within his nest
Sweetly sings his evening hymn.

Have I tried mamma to mind?
Was I gentle in my play?
Have I been a true and kind,
Pleasant little girl to-day?

Then will God take care of me
Kindly, through the long dark night;
Bright and happy, I shall see
Once again the morning light.

Hist! once more!
Listen, Pausanias!—Aye, ’tis Callicles!
I know those notes among a thousand.    Hark!

CALLICLES

(Sings unseen, from below.)

The track winds down to the clear stream,
To cross the sparkling shallows; there
The, cattle love to gather, on their way
To the high mountain pastures, and to stay,
Till the rough cow-herds drive them past,
Knee-deep in the cool ford; for ’tis the last
Of all the woody, high, well-water’d dells
On Etna; and the beam
Of noon is broken there by chestnut boughs
Down its steep verdant sides; the air
Is freshen’d by the leaping stream, which throws
Eternal showers of spray on the moss’d roots
Of trees, and veins of turf, and long dark shoots
Of ivy-plants, and fragrant hanging bells
Of ...

One day, along the electric wire
His manly word for Freedom sped;
We came next morn: that tongue of fire
Said only, "He who spake is dead!"

Dead! while his voice was living yet,
In echoes round the pillared dome!
Dead! while his blotted page lay wet
With themes of state and loves of home!

Dead! in that crowning grace of time,
That triumph of life's zenith hour!
Dead! while we watched his manhood's prime
Break from the slow bud into flower!

Dead! he so great, and strong, and wise,
While the mean thousands yet drew breath;
How deepened, through that dread surprise,
The mystery and the awe of death!

From the high place whereon our votes
Had borne him, clear, calm, earnest, fell
His first words, like the prelude notes
Of some...

Shall Earth no more inspire thee,
Thou lonely dreamer now?
Since passion may not fire thee
Shall nature cease to bow?

Thy mind is ever moving
In regions dark to thee;
Recall its useless roving
Come back and dwell with me

I know my mountain breezes
Enchant annd soothe thee still
I know my sunshine pleases
Despite thy wayward will

When day with evening blending
Sinks from the summer sky,
I've seen thy spirit bending
In fond idolotry

I've watched thee every hour
I know my mighty sway
I know my magic power
To drive thy griefs away

Few hearts to mortal given
On earth so wildly pine
Yet none would ask a Heaven
More like this Earth than thine

Then let my winds caress thee
Thy comrade let...

The nations are in the proving;
Each day is Judgment Day;
And the peoples He finds wanting
Shall pass--by the Shadowy Way.

Here in this gold-green evening end,
While air is soft and sky is clear,
What tender message shall I send
To her I hold so dear?
What rose of song with breath like myrrh,
And leaf of dew and fair pure beams
Shall I select and give to her
The lady of my dreams?

Alas! the blossom I would take,
The song as sweet as Persian speech,
And carry for my lady’s sake,
Is not within my reach.
I have no perfect gift of words,
Or I would hasten now to send
A ballad full of tunes of birds
To please my lovely friend.

But this pure pleasure is my own,
That I have power to waft away
A hope as bright as heaven’s zone
On this her natal day.
May all her life be like the light
That softens down in spheres divine,
“As lovely as a Lapland nig...

You shall not be overbold
When you deal with arctic cold,
As late I found my lukewarm blood
Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood.
How should I fight? my foeman fine
Has million arms to one of mine:
East, west, for aid I looked in vain,
East, west, north, south, are his domain.
Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home;
Must borrow his winds who there would come.
Up and away for life! be fleet!--
The frost-king ties my fumbling feet,
Sings in my ears, my hands are stones,
Curdles the blood to the marble bones,
Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense,
And hems in life with narrowing fence.
Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,--
The punctual stars will vigil keep,--
Embalmed by purifying cold;
The winds shall sing their dead-march old,
...

I have a life that did not become,
that turned aside and stopped,
astonished:
I hold it in me like a pregnancy or
as on my lap a child
not to grow old but dwell on

it is to his grave I most
frequently return and return
to ask what is wrong, what was
wrong, to see it all by
the light of a different necessity
but the grave will not heal
and the child,
stirring, must share my grave
with me, an old man having
gotten by on what was left

when I go back to my home country in these
fresh far-away days, its convenient to visit
everybody, aunts and uncles, those who used to say,
look how hes shooting up, and the
trinket aunts who always had a little
something in their pocketbooks, cinnamon bark
or a penny or nickel, and uncles w...

The red sun stared unwinking at the East
Then slept under a cloak of hodden gray;
The rimy fields held the last light of day,
A little tender yet. And I remember
How black against the pale and wintry west
Stood the confused great army of old trees,
Topping that lean, enormous-shouldered hill
With crossing lances shivering and then still.
I looked as one that sees
Queens passing by and lovelier than he dreamed,
With fringe of silver light following their feet,
And all those lances vail'd, and solemn Knights
Watching their Queens as with eyes grave and sweet
They left for the gray fields those airy heights.
Nothing had lovelier seemed--
Not April's noise nor the early dew of June,
Nor the calm languid cow-eyed Autumn Moon,
Nor ruffling woods the greenest I ...

Bonny burd! aw'm fain to see thee,
For tha tells ov breeter weather;
But aw connot quite forgie thee, -
Connot love thee altogether.

'Tisn't thee aw fondly welcome -
'Tis the cheerin news tha brings,
Tellin us fine weather will come,
When we see thi dappled wings.

But aw'd rayther have a sparrow, -
Rayther hear a robin twitter; -
Tho' they may net be thi marrow,
May net fly wi' sich a glitter;

But they nivver leeav us, nivver -
Storms may come, but still they stay;
But th' first wind 'at ma's thee shivver,
Up tha mounts an flies away.

Ther's too monny like thee, swallow,
'At when fortun's sun shines breet,
Like a silly buzzard follow,
Doncin raand a bit o' leet.

But ther's few like Robin redbreast,
Cling t...

The star of love now shines above,
    Cool zephyrs crisp the sea;
Among the leaves the wind-harp weaves
    Its serenade for thee.
The star, the breeze, the wave, the trees,
    Their minstrelsy unite,
But all are drear till thou appear
    To decorate the night.

The light of noon streams from the moon,
    Though with a milder ray
O'er hill and grove, like woman's love,
    It cheers us on our way.
Thus all that's bright--the moon, the night,
    The heavens, the earth, the sea,
Exert their powers to bless the hours
    We dedicate to thee.

Vnto the World, to Learning, and to Heauen,
Three nines there are, to euerie one a nine;
One number of the earth, the other both diuine,
One wonder woman now makes three od numbers euen.
Nine orders, first, of Angels be in heauen;
Nine Muses doe with learning still frequent:
These with the Gods are euer resident.
Nine worthy men vnto the world were giuen.
My Worthie one to these nine Worthies addeth,
And my faire Muse one Muse vnto the nine;
And my good Angell, in my soule diuine,
With one more order these nine orders gladdeth.
    My Muse, my Worthy, and my Angell, then,
    Makes euery one of these three nines a ten.

When the clouds shake their hyssops, and the rain
Like holy water falls upon the plain,
'Tis sweet to gaze upon the springing grain
And see your harvest born.

And sweet the little breeze of melody
The blackbird puffs upon the budding tree,
While the wild poppy lights upon the lea
And blazes 'mid the corn.

The skylark soars the freshening shower to hail,
And the meek daisy holds aloft her pail,
And Spring all radiant by the wayside pale
Sets up her rock and reel.

See how she weaves her mantle fold on fold,
Hemming the woods and carpeting the wold.
Her warp is of the green, her woof the gold,
The spinning world her wheel.