I HEARD a song upon the wandering wind, A song of many tones -- though one full soul Breathed through them all imploringly; and made All nature as they passed, all quivering leaves And low responsive reeds and waters, thrill As with the consciousness of human prayer. -- At times the passion-kindled melody Might seem to gush from Sappho's fervent heart, Over the wild sea-wave; -- at times the strain Flowed with more plaintive sweetness, as if born Of Petrarch's voice, beside the lone Vaucluse; And sometimes, with its melancholy swell, A graver sound was mingled, a deep note Of Tasso's holy lyre. Yet still the tones Were of a suppliant -- "@3Leave me not!@1" was still The burden of their music; and I knew The lay which Genius, in its loneliness, Its own still world, amidst the o'erpeopled world, Hath ever breathed to Love. "They crown me with the glistening crown, Borne from a deathless tree; I hear the pealing music of renown -- O Love! forsake me not! Mine were a lone, dark lot, Bereft of thee! They tell me that my soul can throw A glory o'er the earth; From thee, from @3thee@1, is caught that golden glow! Shed by thy gentle eyes, It gives to flower and skies A bright, new birth! "Thence gleams the path of morning Over the kindling hills, a sunny zone! Thence to its heart of hearts the rose is burning With lustre not its own! Thence every wood-recess Is filled with loveliness, Each bower, to ring-doves and dim violets known. "I see all beauty by the ray That streameth from thy smile; Oh! bear it, bear it not away! Can that sweet light beguile? Too pure, too spirit-like, it seems, To linger long by earthly streams; I clasp it with th' alloy Of fear 'midst quivering joy. Yet must I perish if the gift depart -- Leave me not, Love! to mine own beating heart! "The music from my lyre With thy swift step would flee; The world's cold breath would quench the starry fire In my deep soul -- a temple filled with thee! Sealed would the fountains lie, The waves of harmony, Which thou alone canst free! "Like a shrine 'midst rocks forsaken, Whence the oracle hath fled; Like a harp which none might waken But a mighty master dead; Like the vase of a perfume scattered, Such would my spirit be -- So mute, so void, so shattered, Bereft of thee! "Leave me not, Love! or if this earth Yield not for thee a home, If the bright summer-land of thy pure birth Send thee a silvery voice that whispers '@3Come!@1' Then, with the glory from the rose, With the sparkle from the stream, With the light thy rainbow-presence throws Over the poet's dream; With all th' Elysian hues Thy pathway that suffuse, With joy, with music, from the fading grove, Take @3me@1, too, heavenward, on thy wing, sweet Love!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVULET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT VANITAS VANITATUM, FR. THE DEVIL'S CASE LAW by JOHN WEBSTER THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 36. FEAR HAS CAST OUT LOVE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ON HIS HEAD WERE MANY CROWNS by MATTHEW BRIDGES THE MUSIC STRAIN by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE VIRGIN MARTYR by ADA CAMBRIDGE PREFIXED TO THOMAS RAVENSCROFT'S 'DISCOURSE...' by THOMAS CAMPION |