WELCOME, rippling sunshine! Welcome, joyous air! Like a demon shadow Flies the gaunt despair! Heaven, through heights of happy calm, Its heart of hearts uncloses, To win earth's answering love in balm, Her blushing thanks -- in roses! Voices from the pine-grove, Where the pheasant's drumming, Voices from the ferny hills Alive with insect humming; Voices low and sweet From the far-off stream, Where two rivulets meet With the murmur of a dream; Voices loud and free From every bush and tree, Of sportive forest bards outpouring songs of gladness; But over them still With its passionate trill, The mock-bird's jocund madness! Deep down the swampy brake Even the poison-snake, Uncoiled and basking in the noontide splendor, May feel, perchance on this auspicious day (All dark clouds rolled away), Through his stagnant blood, Warmed by the sunlight flood A faint, far sense, Coming he knows not whence, Of dim intelligence, -- The thinnest conscious thrill that human is, and tender! Look! where on luminous wing The ether's stately king, The lone sea-eagle, circling proud and slow, Towers in the sapphire glow; From out whose dazzling beam, His resonant scream; Heard even here, -- a note of fierce desire, -- Hushes to silent awe the sylvan choir, Till bird and note in airy deeps updrawn Are melting toward the dawn! And hear! O! hear! No longer wildly terrible and drear, But as if merry pulses timed their beating, The frolic sea-waves near, Dancing along like happy maidens playing When blithe love goes "a-Maying," And wreaking on the shore their panting blisses In coy impulsive kisses; Whilst he -- poor dullard -- cannot catch nor hold them, Nor in his massive, earthen arms enfold them, The laughing virgin waves, so archly, swiftly fleeting! This subtle atmosphere, So magically clear, Melts, as it were upon my eager lip; From some invisible goblet of delight Idly I sip and sip A wine so warm and golden (From some enchanted bin the wine was stolen), A wine so sweet and rare, Methinks a nobler birth Illuminates the earth, And in my heart I hear a fairy singing; Yet well I know 'tis but my soul renewed, Reborn and bright, From grief and grief's malignant solitude! Yet well I know, Joy is the Ganymede, Who in my yearning need, Turns to a cordial rich the balmy air; And 'tis but Hope's, divinest Hope's return, Which makes my inmost spirit throb and burn, And Hope's triumphant song, So sweet and strong, That all creation seems with that weird music ringing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEW-MADE HONOUR (IMITATED FROM MARTIAL) by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE ODYSSEY: THE GARDENS OF ALCINOUS by HOMER HERE LIES A LADY by JOHN CROWE RANSOM SUFFRAGE MARCHING-SONG by LOUIS JAMES BLOCK TAKE YOUR CHOICE: AND BLISS CARMAN by BERTON BRALEY |