Beneath thy shade we live; thy trunk is world To us; thy crown, a star-spun sky, our sky!

If thou art a G.o.d merciless, reveal Thyself! If not, but nod and give us calm!

Either cease slaying us one by one, or pour On us at once a flood to drown us all!

Our pain is as reward and treasure found!

The golden seal of harmony has stamped us, And while Death touches us, we glory, victors!

We tremble; hail O rhythm's thrice-sacred tremor!

A worm may live sunless beneath the earth That a new b.u.t.terfly of silken wings May live an hour of perfect life and die.

The wound's gash turns into a living fountain!

Things gray, things crystal, myriad hues of green, Gushings of fountains clear, and caterpillars, Earth's things immovable, air-sailing ships, And little worms, and bees, and b.u.t.terflies, Sweet flower-grails and censers, fondling gra.s.s, The moss-down's countless kisses, echoes from Below, and mandolins ethereal, Leaves quivering and lilies languor-bringing!

The turtle-doves know not what you know, blossoms, The chosen things of beautiful loves, you!

Kisses and starts and wooings of the boughs!

The birth of each of you is a world's dawn!

You know, O little tearful short-lived things, You know pleasure's and joy's eternities!

We, the gold garlands wreathed about thy root, Are like celestial and thoughtful eyes!

Blithe flowers, boughs that hang with blossoms full, From dandelions to the chamaemele, You may be like the glowing coals or gems, Or like a maiden's rosy cheeks and lips.

Though you, like hands, may open full or empty, And though you be dawn's smiles or evening's candles, Or the fair palaces of Fairy Dew, The gazing eyes are we! We are the eyes!

Though small we are, a great world hides in us; And in us clouds of care and dales of grief You may descry; the sky's tranquility; The heaving of the sea about the ships At evenings; tears that roll not down the cheeks; And something else inexplicable. Oh, What prison's kin are we? Who would believe it?

One, d.a.m.ned, and G.o.dlike, dwells in us; and she is Thought!

Frolick, and form, and wanton playfulness, And some unspoken radiant vanity, And some enrapturing bewitching charm, And perfect virgin beauty are your own!

Fading like G.o.ds' pale images, you seem!

Even the bird sometimes bows to your grace!

And Nereids wind-footed fan your faces, O roses with a thousand smiles divine!

A G.o.d commanded it, the flower-haired April!

"O flowing fragrance, change to brilliancy!"

Thus you are scentless, roses of Bengal; All others' perfume is bright light in you.

And thou, O lily, king among the flowers, From what far world hast thou been led astray?

Was it from fragrance's own womb, or from The whitest star? And we, O Palm? Who knows!

River ethereal of fragrance, stay!

Thou hast not flowed nor watered us at birth.

We said to fragrance: "Cease thy flowing course; Well not from us; nor be our breath! Sink deep Into our heart's recesses; close thyself Regardless of thy perfume in our soul!

Then seek to find our thought and live with it And flow from it as honey from the bee!"

"Bring forth from the rich treasures of the sun All colors, flowers, and deck yourselves with them!"

We said unto our little brothers: "Make Robes of the heaven's rainbow for your raiment!"

And to ourselves we said: "Soul, I Shall let aside all brilliance! I need not Sunset or dawn; enough would be something Of the great sea and of the heaven's smile!"

Become a cloud, O great Desire, and speak With lightnings and with thunders! Rise, a lark, And sing and soar towards a new starry garden!

Turn all thy flooding music into love, Mingle with it all children's innocence And all the beauty that is thine; still thou Wilt have love's shadow only but not love.

For love shines, burns, illumines quenchlessly!

The garden draws life from a triple soul, A soul that spreads creeping upon the earth With roots beneath and wings above. A city, The caterpillar builds in its great depths; The bird builds love towards heights ethereal!

About all green things live to be thy slaves And tr.i.m.m.i.n.g ornaments, O palm! How high Skyward thou raisest thy grace-moulded body!

No ivy limits and no offshoot mars Thy trunk's unchained and chiseled nakedness; And yet, though naked, with a charm dream-wrought Thou coverest the alleys of the garden.

And as an emblem of thy reign, a crown Of beams pearl-born and silver-born shines bright As it hangs trembling from thy top, O palm.

Oh what a rhythm governs thy form divine!

So beautiful is not the cypress young As it waves towards the sky, moved by the breeze!

So beautiful is not the mossy fountain That sings like bard and nourishes like mother!

So beautiful is not sunrise or sunset!

Another world's day hangs from thy high crest!

So beautiful is not the tranquil lake!

G.o.ds and their hymns G.o.d-sung are at thy feet!

Neither an angel's shade in a hermit's cave, Nor harmony's voice in Night's deep silence, Nor the great maker's thought just as it dawns In his wide-fronted heaven, and is still A maiden dream unyoked before it finds A dwelling in the form of word or music, Color or marble! None of these is like Thine image caught and mirrored in our thought!

Is it transparent and immortal blood That flows in thee, or sap too weak to wake thee From thy long spell of blind and voiceless sleep Into a crystal life's fair revelry?

Is thy head's crown another's counterfeit, Or thine own locks that smitten by the wind Become stringed lyres to sing in murmurs sweet Of the world's symphony and of thy beauty?

Neither thy boughs nor locks they are, but wings That thou wouldst ply with gentle flutterings!

Wings? They are not, though they become; and ever A hunger tortures thee, and ever thou Strugglest to enter a sublimer world!

Right, left, high, far, thou seekest a fair city, Some sunlit Athens, and standest bent on flying With swans and cranes towards the azure heavens.

Art thou a relic of a dead age and great, Or the first dew of a becoming life?