XII.

That tear fell not on Thee, Beloved, yet thou stirrest in thy slumber!

THOU, stirring not for glad sounds out of number Which through the vibratory palm-trees run From summer-wind and bird, So quickly hast thou heard A tear fall silently?

Wak'st thou, O loving One?--

FOOTNOTES:

[7] It is a Jewish tradition that Moses died of the kisses of G.o.d's lips.

_AN ISLAND._

All goeth but G.o.ddis will.--OLD POET.

I.

My dream is of an island-place Which distant seas keep lonely, A little island on whose face The stars are watchers only: Those bright still stars! they need not seem Brighter or stiller in my dream.

II.

An island full of hills and dells, All rumpled and uneven With green recesses, sudden swells, And odorous valleys driven So deep and straight that always there The wind is cradled to soft air.

III.

Hills running up to heaven for light Through woods that half-way ran, As if the wild earth mimicked right The wilder heart of man: Only it shall be greener far And gladder than hearts ever are.

IV.

More like, perhaps, that mountain piece Of Dante's paradise, Disrupt to an hundred hills like these, In falling from the skies; Bringing within it, all the roots Of heavenly trees and flowers and fruits:

V.

For--saving where the grey rocks strike Their javelins up the azure, Or where deep fissures miser-like h.o.a.rd up some fountain treasure, (And e'en in them, stoop down and hear, Leaf sounds with water in your ear,--)

VI.

The place is all awave with trees, Limes, myrtles purple-beaded, Acacias having drunk the lees Of the night-dew, faint-headed, And wan grey olive-woods which seem The fittest foliage for a dream.

VII.

Trees, trees on all sides! they combine Their plumy shades to throw, Through whose clear fruit and blossom fine Whene'er the sun may go, The ground beneath he deeply stains, As pa.s.sing through cathedral panes.

VIII.

But little needs this earth of ours That shining from above her, When many Pleiades of flowers (Not one lost) star her over, The rays of their unnumbered hues Being all refracted by the dews.

IX.

Wide-petalled plants that boldly drink The Amreeta of the sky, Shut bells that dull with rapture sink, And lolling buds, half shy; I cannot count them, but between Is room for gra.s.s and mosses green,

X.

And brooks, that gla.s.s in different strengths All colours in disorder, Or, gathering up their silver lengths Beside their winding border, Sleep, haunted through the slumber hidden, By lilies white as dreams in Eden.

XI.

Nor think each arched tree with each Too closely interlaces To admit of vistas out of reach, And broad moon-lighted places Upon whose sward the antlered deer May view their double image clear.

XII.

For all this island's creature-full, (Kept happy not by halves) Mild cows, that at the vine-wreaths pull, Then low back at their calves With tender lowings, to approve The warm mouths milking them for love.

XIII.

Free gamesome horses, antelopes, And harmless leaping leopards, And buffaloes upon the slopes, And sheep unruled by shepherds: Hares, lizards, hedgehogs, badgers, mice, Snakes, squirrels, frogs, and b.u.t.terflies.

XIV.

And birds that live there in a crowd, Horned owls, rapt nightingales, Larks bold with heaven, and peac.o.c.ks proud, Self-sphered in those grand tails; All creatures glad and safe, I deem No guns nor springes in my dream!

XV.

The island's edges are a-wing With trees that overbranch The sea with song-birds welcoming The curlews to green change; And doves from half-closed lids espy The red and purple fish go by.

XVI.

One dove is answering in trust The water every minute, Thinking so soft a murmur must Have her mate's cooing in it: So softly doth earth's beauty round Infuse itself in ocean's sound.

XVII.

My sanguine soul bounds forwarder To meet the bounding waves; Beside them straightway I repair, To live within the caves: And near me two or three may dwell Whom dreams fantastic please as well.

XVIII.

Long winding caverns, glittering far Into a crystal distance!

Through clefts of which shall many a star Shine clear without resistance, And carry down its rays the smell Of flowers above invisible.

XIX.

I said that two or three might choose Their dwelling near mine own: Those who would change man's voice and use, For Nature's way and tone-- Man's veering heart and careless eyes, For Nature's steadfast sympathies.

XX.

Ourselves, to meet her faithfulness, Shall play a faithful part; Her beautiful shall ne'er address The monstrous at our heart: Her musical shall ever touch Something within us also such.

XXI.