English

Aware of Wonder
were all immortal ...
Helios shines rejoiced
glares with new life;
Ares admires his armor,
Anadiomena her smile;
and decorum of her figure
Artemis topless.
Pan feels that the earth trembles;
Poseidon the sea is stirred
as when Aphrodite was born.
Sweet peace, strong in war,
appears to the Greek ideal,
before the spill under your
and on which your thanks rains
white and pure as snow
and blazing like flame.

Is she embodies the thought! ...

She speaks:

I DREAMED a dream of how the red sun fell,
And on the plain beyond the city spread
A joyous crowd, by Love and Laughter led;
When sudden came, but faintly audible,
A leper's voice, and then the warning bell:
Then passion paled — seized with a speechless dread,
They tarried not to spit at him, but fled,
As if that beggar were a thing from hell.

And so if once our love were known, O sweet!

It was in the days, in the days of the roses,
When under your kisses my sorrow was sped,
Now autumn blossoms the field encloses,
And autumn blossoms enwreath our head —
And Love and rejoicing and May are dead,
And the world is windy and waste and wide:
The days of the roses have long since fled,
And the scarlet flower of love has died.

Once thought I your lips with unperishing kisses

For peter Pan

Spring came carolling through the land,
Roses and laughter on every hand;
But I was gazing with steadfast eye
Where Christ was nailed on high.

Hawthorn blossoms were white and gay,
Promise of fruit in the laden spray —
Only the tree of the Cross bare naught
Save the ruin that death had wrought!

Spring passed on, and a breath of bloom
Swept through the casement, filled the room.

This is my singing season, and the dearth
Of music ended; I am pregnant thus
With sound and colour, and melodious
Mine unborn poems clamour after birth.
Perchance, arising from the tuneless earth
To bring sweet gifts of cadence unto us,
Some vocal brother to Theocritus
Inspires my lips with his diviner worth.

Or yet, some ghostly elder singer's breath
Is floating to me, and strange voices ring
On my soul's ear with sound that quickeneth:
" Build now or never, " say they, and they bring

I stood upon the threshold; musical
Reverberant footsteps ghostlike came and went,
And my lips trembled as magnificent
Before me rose a vision of that hall
Whereof great Milton is the mighty wall,
Shakespeare the dome with incense redolent,
Each latter singer precious ornament,
And Holy Writ the groundwork, bearing all.

" Lord, " sobbed I, " take Thy splendid gift of youth
For the one boon that I have craved so long:
Mould Thou my stammering accents and uncouth,
With awful music raise and make me strong;

Beyond the sea a land of heroes lies,
Of fairy heaths and rivers, mountains steep,
O'ergrown with vine — her memory I shall keep
Most dear, her heritage most dearly prize.
But lo, a lad, I left her, and mine eyes
Fell on the sea-girt mistress of the deep,
What time my boy's heart heard as in a sleep
The choral walls of rhythmic beauty rise.

O lyric England, thee I call mine own;
With lyre and lute and wreath I come to thee;
The realm is thine of song and of the sea,
And thy mouth's speech is heard from zone to zone:

Spain's num'rous fleet, that perish'd on our coast,
Could scarce a longer line of battle boast,
The winds could hardly drive 'em to their fate,
And all the ocean labour'd with the weight.
Where'er the waves in restless errors roll,
The sea lies open now to either pole;
Now may we safely use the northern gales,
And in the Polar Circle spread our fails;
Or deep in southern climes, secure from wars,
New lands explore, and sail by other stars;
Fetch uncontroll'd each labour of the sun,
And make the product of the world our own.

When now the bus'ness of the field is o'er,
The trumpets sleep and cannons cease to roar,
When ev'ry dismal echo is decay'd,
And all the thunder of the battle laid,
Attend, auspicious Prince! and let the Muse
In humble accents milder thoughts infuse.
Others, in bold prophetic numbers skill'd,
Set thee in arms, and led thee to the field;
My Muse, expecting, on the British strand
Waits thy return, and welcomes thee to land:
She oft' has seen thee pressing on the foe,
When Europe was concern'd in ev'ry blow,

G IFTS

Unto Brahmans gave Yudhishthir countless nishkas of bright gold,
Unto sage and saintly Vyasa all his realm and wealth untold,

But the bard and ancient rishi who the holy Vedas spake,
Rendered back the monarch's present, earthly gift he might not take!

" Thine is Kuru's ancient empire, rule the nations of the earth,
Gods have destined thee as monarch from the moment of thy birth,

Gold and wealth and costly present let the priests and Brahmans hoard,