Читать книгу The lost chimes, and other poems онлайн

4 страница из 41

And mystery of the immortal soul,

A love to which he gave himself and all,

With but one aim, to win her as his wife,

And realize his dream of Paradise.

But death did also mark her for his own,

With hectic flushes on the pallid cheek,

And growing languor in the sprightly limbs;

And as the day before night’s darkness dims,

So did her youthful buoyancy grow weak,

And like a vision fair, she soon was gone.

And sorrow, with its wintry blast did chill

His manly nature to the very core,

And many months he spent in utter woe;

But, like the flow’r which grows beneath the snow,

A life which he had never known before

Rose from submission to the Higher Will.

These elements did pass into his work,

His love and grief, his dreams and changing moods,

And all he was seemed mingle in the mold

Of molten metal, and was subtly told

By silver tonguéd bells in solitudes

Of monastery, or of country kirk.

ssss1

As one who summons all the latent pow’r

Within his soul, for one last great attempt