In from the terraced garden blows
The spicy soul of the tuberose,
As if 't were the odor of strains that pour
From the nightingale's throat as never before;
For he sings not now of wounding thorn,
He sings as the lark in the golden morn,
A song of joy, a song of bliss,
Passionate notes that clasp and kiss,
Perfect peace and perfect pride,,
Love rewarded and satisfied,
For I see you, darling, at my side.
I see you, darling, at my side :
I clasp you closer, in sacred pride.
I shut my eyes, my senses fail,
Becalmed by Night's ambrosial gale.
Softer than dews the planets weep,
Descends a sweeter peace than sleep;
All wandering sounds and motions die
In the silent glory of the sky;
But, as the moon goes down the West,
Your heart, against my happy breast,
Says in its beating: Love is Rest.
IS not the dropping of the flower, The blush of fruit upon the tree, Though Summer ripens, hour by hour, The garden's sweet maternity:
"T is not that birds have ceased to build,
And wait their brood with tender care;
That corn is golden in the field,
And clover balm is in the air;
Not these the season's splendor bring,
And crowd with life the happy year,
Nor yet, where yonder fountains sing,
The blaze of sunshine, hot and clear.
In thy full womb, O Summer! lies
A secret hope, a joy unsung,
Held in the hush of these calm skies,
And trembling on the forest's tongue.
The lands of harvest throb anew
In shining pulses, far away;
The Night distils a dearer dew,
And sweeter eyelids has the Day.
And not in vain the peony burns
In bursting globes, her crimson fire,
Her incense-dropping ivory urns
The lily lifts in many a spire:
And not in vain the tulips clash
In revelry the cups they hold
Of fiery wine, until they dash
With ruby streaks the splendid gold!
Send down your roots the mystic charm
That warms and flushes all your flowers,
And with the summer's touch disarm
The thraldom of the under powers,
Until, in caverns, buried deep,
Strange fragrance reach the diamond's home, And murmurs of the garden sweep
The houses of the frighted gnome!
For, piercing through their black repose,
And shooting up beyond the sun,
I see that Tree of Life, which rose
Before the eyes of Solomon:
Its boughs, that, in the light of God,
Their bright, innumerous leaves display,— Whose hum of life is borne abroad
By winds that shake the dead away.
And, trembling on a branch afar,
The topmost nursling of the skies,
I see my bud, the fairest star
That ever dawned for watching eyes.
Unnoticed on the boundless tree,
Its fragrant promise fills the air;
Its little bell expands, for me,
A tent of silver, lily-fair.
All life to that one centre tends;
All joy and beauty thence outflow;
Her sweetest gifts the summer spends,
To teach that sweeter bud to blow.
So, compassed by the vision's gleam,
In trembling hope, from day to day,
As in some bright, bewildering dream,
The mystic summer wanes away.
BThe clouds, fast-flying, chase
LOW, winds of midnight, blow!
Across the pallid face
Of yonder moon,
Sweep, as ye list, the land:
Hurl down the heavy corn,
And wrench the trees forlorn
That struggle where they stand!
Though mighty to destroy,
To me ye bring no fear;
But in your voice I hear
An echo of my joy.
Life-life to me ye bring:
The precious soul, that takes
Its life from mine, awakes,
And soon will crown me king.
I stand with silent breath,
To hear one little cry
Ring through the roaring sky,
And worlds of Life and Death.
Wake, timid soul, and be!
Two Fathers wait thy birth:
The love of Heaven and Earth
Stands by to welcome thee!
Tnd stretched his threatening hand in vain,
HE fateful hour, when Death stood by
Is over now, and Life's first cry
Speaks feeble triumph through its pain,
But yesterday, and thee the Earth
Inscribed not on her mighty scroll:
To-day she opes the gate of birth,
And gives the spheres another soul.
But yesterday, no fruit from mẹ
The rising winds of Time had hurled: To-day, a father, can it be
A child of mine is in the world?
I look upon the little frame,
As helpless on my arm it lies:
Thou giv'st me, child, a father's name,
God's earliest name in Paradise.
Like Him, creator too I stand:
His Power and Mystery seem more near;
Thou giv'st me honor in the land,
And giv'st my life duration here.
But love, to-day, is more than pride;
Love sees his star of triumph shine,
For Life nor Death can now divide
The souls that wedded breathe in thine:
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