Or did the virgin Spring sweet vigil keep
In the white radiance of the midnight hour,
And whisper to the unwondering ear of Sleep
Some shy desire that turned into a flower?
THE NIGHT-HAWK
When frogs make merry the pools of May,
And sweet, oh sweet,
Through the twilight dim
Is the vesper hymn
Their myriad mellow pipes repeat
As the rose-dusk dies away.
Then hark, the night-hawk!
(For now is the elfin hour.)
With melting skies o’er him,
All summer before him,
His wild brown mate to adore him,
By the spell of his power
He summons the apples in flower.
In the high pale heaven he flits and calls;
Then swift, oh swift,
On sounding wing
That hums like a string,
To the quiet glades where the gnat-clouds drift
And the night-moths flicker, he falls.
Then hark, the night-hawk!
(For now is the elfin hour.)
With melting skies o’er him,
All summer before him,
His wild brown mate to adore him,
By the spell of his power
He summons the apples in flower.
THE HERMIT-THRUSH
Over the tops of the trees,
And over the shallow stream,
The shepherd of sunset frees
The amber phantoms of dream.
The time is the time of vision;
The hour is the hour of calm;
Hark! On the stillness Elysian
Breaks how divine a psalm!
Oh, clear in the sphere of the air,
Clear, clear, tender and far,
Our aspiration of prayer
Unto eve’s clear star!
O singer serene, secure!
From thy throat of silver and dew
What transport lonely and pure,
Unchanging, endlessly new,—
An unremembrance of mirth,
And a contemplation of tears,
As if the musing of earth
Communed with the dreams of the years!
Oh, clear in the sphere of the air,
Clear, clear, tender and far,
Our aspiration of prayer
Unto eve’s clear star!
O cloistral ecstatic! thy cell
In the cool green aisles of the leaves
Is the shrine of a power by whose spell
Whoso hears aspires and believes!
O hermit of evening! thine hour
Is the sacrament of desire,
When love hath a heavenlier flower,
And passion a holier fire!
Oh, clear in the sphere of the air,
Clear, clear, tender and far,
Our aspiration of prayer
Unto eve’s clear star!
THE WILD-ROSE THICKET
Where humming flies frequent, and where
Pink petals open to the air,