3
But where now art thou? Watching with love's eye
The eve-star wander? Listening through dim trees
Some thrilled muezzin of the forest cry
From his leafy minaret? Or by the sea's
Blue brim, while the spectral moon half o'er it hangs
Like the faery isle of Avalon, do these
My yearnings speak to thee of days thy feet
Have never trod?—Sweet, sweet, oh, sealing sweet,
My own, must be our meeting's mystic pangs.
4
And will be soon! For last night near to day,
Dreaming, God called me thro' the space-built sphere
Of heaven and said, "Come, waiting one, and lay
Thine ear unto my Heart—there thou shall hear
The secrets of this world where evils war."
Such things I heard as must rend mortal clay
To tell, and trembled—till God, pitying,
Said, "Listen" ... Oh, my love, I heard thee sing
Out of thy window to the morning star!
[AVOWAL TO THE NIGHTINGALE]
Though thou hast ne'er unpent thy pain's delight
Upon these airs, bird of the poet's love,
Yet must I sing thy singing! for the Night
Has poured her jewels o'er the lap of heaven
As they who've heard thee say thou dost above
The wood such ecstasies as were not given
By nestling breasts of Venus to the dove.
Oft I have watched the moon orb her fair gold,
Still clung to by the tattered mists of day
And look for thee. Then has my hope grown bold
Till almost I could see how the near laurels
Would tremble with thy trembling: but the sway
Of bards who've wreathed thee with unfading chorals
Has held my longing lips from this poor lay.
None but the sky-hid lark whose spirit is
Too high for earth may vie for praise with thee
In aery rhapsody. And since 'tis his
To sing of day and joy as thou of sorrow
And night o'erhovering singest, thou'lt e'er be
More dear than he—till hearts shall cease to borrow
From grief the healing for life's mystery.