PROLOGUE
In the tomb of vanished ages sleep th' ungarnered truths of Time,
Where the pall of silence covers deeds of honor and of crime;
Deeds of sacrifice and danger, which the careless earth forgets,
There, in ever-deep'ning shadows, lie embalmed in mute regrets.
Would-be-gleaners of the Present vainly grope amid this gloom;
Flowers of Truth to be immortal must be gathered while they bloom,
Else they pass into the Silence, man's neglect their only blight,
And the Gleaner of the Ages stores them far from human sight.
Yet a perfume, sweet and subtle, lingers where each flower grew,
Rising from the shattered petals, bathed and freshened by the dew;
And this perfume, in the twilight, forms a mist beneath the skies,
Out of which, like airy phantoms, legends and traditions rise;
For the Seeds of Truth are buried in a legend's inmost heart,
To transplant them in the sunlight justifies the poet's art.
THE SEEDS OF TRUTH
ROANOAK, 1587
Shimmering waters, aweary of tossing,
Hopeful of rest, ripple on to the shore;
Dimpling with light, as they waver and quiver,
Echoing faintly the ocean's wild roar.
Locked in the arms of the tremulous waters
Nestles an island, with beauty abloom,
Where the warm kiss of an amorous summer
Fills all the air with a languid perfume.
Windward, the roar of the turbulent breakers
Warns of the dangers of rock and of reef;
Burdened with mem'ries of sorrowful shipwreck,
They break on the sands in torrents of grief.
Leeward, the forest, grown giant in greenness,
Shelters a land where a fervid sun shines;
Wild with the beauty of riotous nature,
Thick with the tangles of fruit-laden vines.[A]
From fragrant clusters, grown purple with ripeness,
Rare, spicy odors float out to the sea,[B]
Where the gray gulls flit with restless endeavor,
Skimming the waves in their frolicsome glee.