O what a morn is this for us who knew The large, blue, summer mornings, heaven let down Upon the earth for men to drink, the crown Of perfect human living, when we grew Great-hearted like the Gods! Come, we will strew White ashes on our hair, nor strive to drown In faint hymn to the year’s fulfilled renown The sterile grief which is the season’s due. Lightly above the vine-rows of rich hills Where the brown peasant girls move amid grapes The swallow glances; let him cry for glee! But yon pale mist diffused ’twixt paler shapes,-- Once sovereign trees,--my spirit also fills, And an east-wind comes moaning from the sea.
Was it a lullaby the Sea went singing About my feet, some old-world monotone, Filled full of secret memories, and bringing Not hope to sting the heart, but peace alone, Sleep and the certitude of sleep to be Wiser henceforth than all philosophy?
Truth! did we seek for truth with eye and brain Through days so many and wasted with desire? Listen, the same long gulfing voice again: Tired limbs lie slack as sands are, eyes that tire Close gently, close forever, twilight grey Receives you, tenderer than the glaring day.
[_He sleeps, and after an interval awakes._]
Ah terror, ah delight! A sudden cry, Anguish, or hope, or triumph. Awake, arise,-- The winds awake! Is ocean’s lullaby This clarion-call? Her kiss, the spray that flies Salt to the lip and cheek? Her motion light Of nursing breasts, this swift pursuit and flight?
O wild sea-voices! Victory and defeat, But ever deathless passion and unrest, White wings upon the wind and flying feet, Disdain and wrath, a reared and hissing crest, The imperious urge, and last, a whole life spent In bliss of one supreme abandonment.
The gloom of the sea-fronting cliffs Lay on the water, violet-dark, The pennon drooped, the sail fell in, And slowly moved our bark.
A golden day; the summer dreamed In heaven and on the whispering sea, Within our hearts the summer dreamed; The hours had ceased to be.
Then rose the girls with bonnets loosed, And shining tresses lightly blown, Alice and Adela, and sang A song of Mendelssohn.
O sweet, and sad, and wildly clear, Through summer air it sinks and swells, Wild with a measureless desire, And sad with all farewells.