Classic Poem

" FREED from its tenement of clay
(So the prophetic legend ran),
As pure as dew, as bright as day,
Shall rise the Soul of Man.
I read; and in the shade by me
Sat golden-haired Euphrosyne.

Above our shaded orchard seat
The boughs stirred scented in the light.
And on the grass beneath our feet
Lay blossoms pink and white;
I held the book upon my knee,
Translating to Euphrosyne.

'Twas an old melancholy rune,
Writ by a Norseman long ago —
Sad with the sense of stars and moon,
Sea-wash, and frost, and snow —
A vision of futurity!
And wide-eyed heard Euphrosyne.

" Stately and slow the heart shall beat
To the low throb of Time's soft tide,
While, shaded from the solar heat,
The Shapes walk heavenly-eyed."
All round us burnt the starry lea,
And warmly sighed Euphrosyne.

" All shall be innocent and fair,
Dim as a dream the days shall pass —
No weed of shame shall blossom there,
No snake crawl on the grass." —
" How happy such a world will be!"
Sighed beautiful Euphrosyne.

" Flesh shall be fled, sense shall be still,
The old grey earth buried and dead;
The wicked world, with all things ill —
Stone, rock, and tree — be fled." —
" No earth, no world!" softly sighed she,
The little maid, Euphrosyne.

She clasped her hands, she cast her eyes
Over the landscape bright with May —
Scented and sweet, 'neath cloudless skies,
Smiled the green world that day —
Loud sang the thrush, low hummed the bee,
And softly sighed Euphrosyne.

" Sickness shall perish, grief and pain
Be buried with the buried life;
The aching heart, the weary brain,
At last shall cease their strife." —
The grey tonie trembled on my knee,
But happy sat Euphrosyne.

" The luminous house wherein we dwell,
The haunted house of shame and lust,
The callow spirit's fleshly shell,
Shall crumble into dust;
The flower shall fade, the scent fly free!" —
She trembled now, Euphrosyne.

Her warm, white bosom heaved with sighs,
I felt her light breath come and go,
She drank, with glorious lips and eyes,
The summer's golden glow;
She felt her life, and sighed " Ay, me!"
The flower of maids, Euphrosyne.

" And with the flower of flesh shall fade
The venom'd bloom of earthly love,
No passion-trance of man and maid
Shall taint the life above;
Flesh shall be fled, sex shall not be!" —
I paused, and watched Euphrosyne.

Her hands were folded round her knees,
Her eyes were fix'd in a half-dream;
She shared the flame of flowers and trees,
And drank the summer gleam;
" Kiss sweet, kiss sweet!" upon the tree
The thrush sang, to Euphrosyne.

A little maid of seventeen Mays,
A happy child with golden hair,
What should she know of Love's wild ways,
Its hope, its pain, and prayer?
" No love in heaven? — how strange 'twill be!"
Still musing, sighed Euphrosyne.

" No thoughts of perishable mould
Shall break the rule of heavenly rest,
But larger light, more still, more cold,
More beautiful and blest." —
Her heart was fluttering close to me,
And quickly breathed Euphrosyne.

" There shall be no more love! " — but here
I paused, for from my side she sprang,
And in her bird's voice, loud and clear,
Of love's young dream she sang —
" Oh, close the foolish book!" cried she,
The happy maid Euphrosyne.

I closed the book, and from my hold
She took it with her fingers white,
Then down the path of green and gold
She tripped with laughter light —
" The book, not the glad world, shall be
Deep-buried," said Euphrosyne.

Within an elm-tree's hollow bole,
Into the darkness damp and green,
She thrust it, closing up the hole
With sprays of lilac sheen —
Then, all the radiant flush of glee
Fast faded from Euphrosyne.

Pensively in the summer shine
Her blue eyes filled with tears of bliss;
She held her little mouth to mine
In one long heavenly kiss —
" I love the earth, and life, and thee! "
She whispered, my Euphrosyne.

Sleep, Book, within thy burial place,
With flowers and fruit for epitaph!
Kind Heaven, stoop down thy sunny face
To hear the Earth's glad laugh!
Smile, with your glorious eyes on me,
O child of joy! Euphrosyne!