Far, far I sped
Down moonless lanes from doubt to doubt;
With hasting, hungry tread
Up slopes of frost unpitying
Where the last star went out;
There fell I in unlifting dark,
And lying while an æon's wing
Dragged o'er me bare, wind-stript and stark,
As leafless planets dream of Spring,
Dreamed she would hark.
Then by me bound,
Came one who wore my lost career
With star on star pinned round,
And stood him by my bones to stare.
With pity's ancient sneer
He mocked my bleachen nudity;
Then did she turn, then did she care,
And pausing where I might not see
She let the winds blow back her hair
And cover me.
SONG OF TO-MORROW
Sound, O Harp of Being, set
Deathless in the winds of time!
All thine ancient part forget,
Wailing lust, and strife, and crime!
Clouds of hate are now sweet rain:
Thou shall never moan again.
Harp of Being, O forget
Hesper dead that played on thee,
All her golden fingers wet
With the blood of misery!
Morning sweeps along thy strings;
Thou art done with yester things.
Bright thou art with drops that fell
Watering earth's long-buried Spring;
Thou hast quivered safe through Hell
Where Love found immortal wing;
Sound, while Life unfrenzied calls
Joy to hallowed Bacchanals!
Harp of Dawn, forget, forget!
Sound thee of the hours now come
When the vine and violet
Bind to earth the fallen drum.
Palsied as a dying star
Fails the shaken torch of war!
From each pennoned pinnacle
Of the cities of the free,
Clasped in time invisible,
Flows the wonder flown to thee;
Thou so swift to throb and start
With the singing earth's new heart!