ong is in our hearts, we hear it night and day,
As the deep tides rise and fall:
_O, Death will never find us in the heart of the wood,
While the hours and the years roll by!_
We have heard it, we have heard it, but we have not understood,
We must wander on together, you and I.
The wind may beat upon us, the rain may blind our eyes,
The leaves may fall beneath the winter's wing;
But we shall hear the music of the dream that never dies,
And we shall know the secret of the Spring.
We shall know how all the blossoms of evil and of good
Are mingled in the meadows of the sky;
And then--if Death can find us in the heart of the wood--
We shall wander on together, you and I.
ART
(IMITATED FROM DE BANVILLE AND GAUTIER)
I
Yes! Beauty still rebels!
Our dreams like clouds disperse:
She dwells
In agate, marble, verse.
No false constraint be thine!
But, for right walking, choose
The fine,
The strict cothurnus, Muse.
Vainly ye seek to escape
The toil! The yielding phrase
Ye shape
Is clay, not chrysoprase.
And all in vain ye scorn
That seeming ease which ne'er
Was born
Of aught but love and care.
Take up the sculptor's tool!
Recall the gods that die
To rule
In Parian o'er the sky.
For Beauty still rebels!
Our dreams like clouds disperse:
She dwells
In agate, marble, verse.
II
When Beauty from the sea,
With breasts of whiter rose
Than we
Behold on earth, arose.
Naked thro' Time returned
The Bliss of Heaven that day,
And burned
The dross of earth away.
Kings at her splendour quailed.
For all his triple steel
She haled
War at her chariot-wheel.
The rose and lily bowed
To cast, of odour sweet
A cloud
Before her wandering feet.
And from her radiant eyes
There shone on soul and sense
The skies'
Divine indifference.
O, mortal memory fond!
Slowly she passed away
Beyond
The curling clouds of day.
_Return_, we cry, _return_,
Till in the sadder light
We learn
That she was infinite.
The Dream that from the sea
With breasts of whiter rose
Than we
Behold on earth, arose.
III
Take up the sculptor's tool!
Becall the dreams that
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