Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ODE OF YOUTH: 2. MAIDENHOOD, by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE ODE OF YOUTH: 2. MAIDENHOOD, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: But lo! Another form appears
Last Line: Your mingled streams along.
Subject(s): Girls; Youth


But lo! another form appears
Upon Life's glass. Oh, pure and white!
Oh, delicate and bright!
Oh, primal growth of Time!
Sweet maidenhood! that to a silvery chime
Of music, and chaste fancies undefiled,
And modest grace and mild,
Comest, best gift of God to men,
As fair to-day as when
The first man, waking from his deep
And fancy-haunted sleep,
Found his strength spent, and at his side
His fair dream glorified;
High-soaring note, leading harmonious song
Through secular discords long.
Oh, lily of Life's garden! fair of hue
And sweet of scent, watered with heaven's own dew;
Fair being, holding hidden motherhood
And undeveloped good;
Implicit in thee, even as white blooms hold
Their fragrant globes of gold,
Men know no praise they can withhold from thee,
Oh, sweet virginity!
Since Artemis first trod the youngling earth.
Thou glorious and surpassing birth!
The Vestal fires were thine, the convents cold
Are thine as those of old.
To thee, when strong sweet flowers of Life and Sense,
Scent gross, we turn, oh white and gracious innocence!

Yea, still, while life flows fast and free,
To thee we turn a world-worn eye.
Throbbing delights are youth's and pulses high;
Yet these at last will ebb, and then to thee
We turn, oh fair pale lily, clothed with purity!

For sure it is indeed
Two streams through Life's ground flow, and both are good --
The one whose goal is gracious motherhood;
The other in the cloister pale and dim
Finding sufficient meed
In pure observance, rite, and soaring hymn.
We may not blame nor hold them wrong
Who through their lives their liturgies prolong,
Even though the prize of motherhood be great.
But always thine, oh, blest estate!
Thine it is, under youth's hot sun, to keep
Celestial snows and pure abysses deep.

I see thy fair expanding mind,
A precious blossom parcel-blown,
Not with the young man's noble rage,
But with a gentler radiance all thy own,
Fixed now on history's fabled page,
Now on the bard's diviner thought,
And now by some deep music stirred,
Deeper than any spoken word,
Or sweet love-story soft as southern wind.

Dear flower and fair to mortal eye,
Whatever be thy age, thy clime, thy race,
Whether the gentle curve of thy young breast
Be hidden in white lawn or stand confest
In innocent brown nakedness and grace,
Thou art the high and unattained prize
Of all the generations that have been;
Upon Life's throne thou sittest as a Queen,
And at thy gracious feet
The ages kneel to thy eternal Truth.
Thy pure and spotless innocence,
And free from stain of Time and Sense,
Thy undefiled youth.

White flower of Life's tree,
Love like a wanton bee,
Shall fly to thee, and from thy deep cold cells
Rifle the honey. Tranquil stream,
That from the chill heart of the untrodden snow,
So calm and clear dost flow;
Spring wakes beneath the gleam
Of a new sun which swells
A warm and rapid torrent strong,
Soon in the sunny balmy weather,
To break its banks and bear together
Your mingled streams along.





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