Summer
I
O golden, golden Summer!
Over the hills I see
The track of thy flying footsteps
As the soft south wind blows free,
And I hear the tender cadence
Of youths and of laughing maidens
As they chant a song to thee.
O linger, linger Summer !
And let thy south winds blow.
And bind thyself a garland
Of the ruddiest flowers that glow,
For neither sprite nor mortal.
Till he pass the unseen portal,
Unending joy can know.
II
Come to the wild wood, come!
Where it slopes to the restless sea.
Where the leaves are bright with an azure light.
And the quick winds hurry the falcon's flight.
Poised amid ether free.
Purple the sunset dies
Over shadowy hills afar,
And the lamp doth burn for which mortals yearn,
Incense of grief in a golden urn —
Hesper — the Evening Star.
~~
Mortimer Collins (1827-1876)
from Idyls and Rhymes, 1855
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
Mortimer Collins biography
No comments:
Post a Comment