THERE is a song the great Musician made, So brief, so brave, one smile and all was said: A full tide from the far untravelled main, Landward it drew, rose, shone and sank again. Brief song, bright wave, what crimson weeds are these Dropt at our feet, fragrant of gauzy seas? What waking wonder of the dazzled eyes? What lark-notes thrilled, blue drops of liquid skies? In one deep chord the song was perfected: "We live a little while," the bright voice said, Breaking, -- still brave: "Mother, I did my best." And then they knew the fluttered heart had rest. Such rest is sleep: the waking fawn would roam Fresh pathless moors, green wonder-vales his home, Still quaffing loveliness from lakelets pale, Mirrors of Morning in her purple veil: Infinite loveliness, not rest he craves: Fawn of the fells, wing'd swallow of the waves, Glad elf of dawn, child-mariner was he: Lo, there his barque, white on the glittering sea! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CROSS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO THE MEMORY OF INEZ MILHOLLAND by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VENUS IN A GARDEN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON A FLORIDA SUNDAY by SIDNEY LANIER STREET CRIES: 6. TO RICHARD WAGNER by SIDNEY LANIER A CERTAIN POET ON THE DEBATES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |