But wan memory weaves
Strange garlands, now, amongst the darkening leaves.
Strange garlands, now, amongst the darkening leaves.
George Lathrop - Dreams and Days
Too vast is the world for me;
Too vast for the sparkling dew
Of a force like yours to renew.
Hopeless the world's immensity!
The suns go on without end:
The universe holds no friend:
And so I come back to you. "
"Go," said the star to its light:
"You have not told me aright.
This you have taught: I am one
In a million of million others--
Stars, or planets, or men;--
And all of these are my brothers.
Carry that message, and then
My guerdon of praise you have won!
Say that I serve in my place:
Say I will hide my own face
Ere the sorrows of others I shun.
So, then, my trust you'll requite.
Go! "--said the star to its light.
"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES"
The sunshine of thine eyes,
(O still, celestial beam! )
Whatever it touches it fills
With the life of its lambent gleam.
The sunshine of thine eyes,
O let it fall on me!
Though I be but a mote of the air,
I could turn to gold for thee!
JESSAMINE
Here stands the great tree still, with broad bent head;
Its wide arms grown aweary, yet outspread
With their old blessing.
But wan memory weaves
Strange garlands, now, amongst the darkening leaves.
_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.
Beneath these glimmering arches Jessamine
Walked with her lover long ago; and in
The leaf-dimmed light he questioned, and she spoke;
Then on them both, supreme, love's radiance broke.
_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.
Sweet Jessamine we called her; for she shone
Like blossoms that in sun and shade have grown,
Gathering from each alike a perfect white,
Whose rich bloom breaks opaque through darkest night.
_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.
For this her sweetness Walt, her lover, sought
To win her; wooed her here, his heart o'er fraught
With fragrance of her being; and gained his plea.
So "We will wed," they said, "beneath this tree. "
_And the moon hangs low in the elm. _
Yet dreams of conquering greater prize for her
Roused his wild spirit with a glittering spur.
Eager for wealth, far, far from home he sailed;
And life paused;--while she watched joy vanish, veiled.
_And the moon hangs low in the elm. _
Ah, better at the elm-tree's sunbrowned feet
If he had been content to let life fleet
Its wonted way! --lord of his little farm,
In zest of joys or cares unmixed with harm.
_And the moon hangs low in the elm. _
For, as against a snarling sea one steers,
He battled vainly with the surging years;
While ever Jessamine must watch and pine,
Her vision bounded by the bleak sea-line.