Classic Poem

I L B OSCO S ACRO

Ah, the sweet silence
Not a breath stirreth
Scarce a leaf moveth.

The Dusk, as a dream,
Steals slowly, slowly,
With shadowy feet
Under the branches
Here, in the woodland,
Hushfully seeking
The Night, her lover.

Sweet are the odours
Breath'd through the twilight,
Lovely spirits
Of lovely things.
One by One
Forth-shimmer white stars
Beyond the skiey
Boughs of chestnuts
Pale Phosphorescence
Gleaming and glancing
As in the wake
Of a windspent vessel
That, moonlike, drifts
With motionless motion.

Not a sound riseth
From where in the hollow
The town lies dreaming:
Not a cry from the pastures
That far below
Are drowsed in the shadows.
Only afar,
On the dim Campagna,
Peace, utter peace:
On the pastures, peace
Low in the hollows,
Deep in the woodlands,
High on the hill-slopes,
Rest, utter rest,
Utter peace.

Suddenly ... thrilling
Long-drawn vibrations!
Passionate preludes
Of passionate song
O the wild music
Tost through the silence,
As a swaying fountain
Is swept by the wind's wings
Far through the sunshine
A mist of flashing
And falling spray.
How the hush of the stillness
Deepeneth slow. . . .
Till never, never
Can paid and rapture
So wild a music,
So sweet a song,
List in the moonlight —
Listen again
O never, never!

O heart still thy beating
O bird, thy song!
Too deep the rapture
Of this new sorrow.
White falls the moonshine
Here, where we gather'd
The snow-pure blossoms,
The Flowers of Dream:
Here, when the sunlight
On that glad day
Flooded the mosses
With golden wine,
And deep in the forest,
Joy passed us, laughing;

Laughing low,
While ever behind her
Rose lovely, delicate,
Beautiful, beautiful,
The fadeless blossoms,
The Flowers of Dream.
Be still, O beating,
O yearning heart!
Here there is silence ...
Silence ... Silence ...
O beating heart!

Here, in the sunshine,
Together we gather'd
The perfect blooms:
And now in the gleaming,
Here, where the moonlight,
Lies like white foam on
The dark tides of night,
Here is one only,
Longing forever,
Longing, longing
With passion and pain.

Come, O Beloved!
O heart, be still!
Nay, through the silence
Cometh no answer,
But only, only
The sweet subsiding
Of this wild strain
Now lost in the thickets
Down in the hollows.

Hark ... rapture outwelling
O song of joy!
Glad voice of my passion
Singing there
Out of the heart of
The fragrant darkness!
O flowers at my feet,
White beautiful flowers,
That whisper, whisper
My soul's desire
O never, never
Lost though afar,
My joy, my Dream

Too deep the rapture
Of this sweet sorrow,
Of this glad pain
O heart, still thy beating,
O bird, thy song!