No, there is no comfort, none. All the dewy tender breath Idly falls when life is done On the starless brow of death.
Though the dream of love may tire, In the ages long agone There were ruby hearts of fire-- Ah, the daughters of the dawn!
Though I am so feeble now, I remember when our pride Could not to the Mighty bow; We would sweep His stars aside.
Mix thy youth with thoughts like those-- It were but to wither thee, But to graft the youthful rose On the old and flowerless tree.
Age is no more near than youth To the sceptre and the crown. Vain the wisdom, vain the truth; Do not lay thy rapture down.
On me to rest, my bird, my bird: The swaying branches of my heart Are blown by every wind toward The home whereto their wings depart.
Build not your nest, my bird, on me; I know no peace but ever sway: O lovely bird, be free, be free, On the wild music of the day.
But sometimes when your wings would rest, And winds are laid on quiet eves: Come, I will bear you breast to breast, And lap you close with loving leaves.
A cabin on the mountain side hid in a grassy nook Where door and windows open wide that friendly stars may look. The rabbit shy can patter in, the winds may enter free, Who throng around the mountain throne in living ecstasy.
And when the sun sets dimmed in eve and purple fills the air, I think the sacred Hazel Tree is dropping berries there From starry fruitage waved aloft where Connla's Well o'erflows; For sure the enchanted waters run through every wind that blows.
I think when night towers up aloft and shakes the trembling dew, How every high and lonely thought that thrills my being through Is but a ruddy berry dropped down through the purple air, And from the magic tree of life the fruit falls everywhere.
A shaft of fire that falls like dew, And melts and maddens all my blood, From out thy spirit flashes through The burning glass of womanhood.
Only so far; here must I stay: Nearer I miss the light, the fire; I must endure the torturing ray, And with all beauty, all desire.
Ah, time long must the effort be, And far the way that I must go To bring my spirit unto thee, Behind the glass, within the glow.
The wonder of the world is o'er: The magic from the sea is gone: There is no unimagined shore, No islet yet to venture on. The Sacred Hazels' blooms are shed, The Nuts of Knowledge harvested.