FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   60   61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68   69   70   71   >>  
ever mortal being hoped to win. Heart, mind, and soul, I analysed them all, And saw where heaven kept divinest carnival. {174} XIII. I've almost grown a portion of this place, I seem familiar with each mossy stone; Even the nimble chipmunk passes on, And looks, but never scolds me. Birds have flown And almost touched my hand; and I can trace The wild bees to their hives. I've never known So sweet a pause from labour. But the tone Of a past sorrow, like a mournful rill Threading the heart of some melodious hill, Or the complainings of the whippoorwill, Passes through every thought, and hope, and aim. It has its uses; for it cools the flame Of ardent love that burns my being up-- Love, life's celestial pearl, diffused through all its cup. {175} XIV. There is no sadness here. Oh, that my heart Were calm and peaceful as these dreamy groves! That all my hopes and passions, and deep loves, Could sit in such an atmosphere of peace, Where no unholy impulses would start Responsive to the throes that never cease To keep my spirit in such wild unrest. 'Tis only in the struggling human breast That the true sorrow lives. Our fruitful joys Have stony kernels hidden in their core. Life in a myriad phases passeth here, And death as various--an equal poise; Yet all is but a solemn change--no more; And not a sound save joy pervades the atmosphere. {176} XV. Last night I heard the plaintive whippoorwill, And straightway Sorrow shot his swiftest dart. I know not why, but it has chilled my heart Like some dread thing of evil. All night long My nerves were shaken, and my pulse stood still, And waited for a terror yet to come To strike harsh discords through my life's sweet song. Sleep came--an incubus that filled the sum Of wretchedness with dreams so wild and chill The sweat oozed from me like great drops of gall; An evil spirit kept my mind in thrall, And rolled my body up like a poor scroll On which is written curses that the soul Shrinks back from when it sees some hellish carnival. {177} XVI. My footsteps press where, centuries ago, The Red Men fought and conquered; lost and won. Whole tribes and races, gone like last year's snow, Have found the Eternal Hunting-Grounds, and ru
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   60   61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68   69   70   71   >>  



Top keywords:

whippoorwill

 

sorrow

 

atmosphere

 
spirit
 
carnival
 

strike

 
portion
 

chilled

 

discords

 

waited


terror
 

shaken

 

swiftest

 

nerves

 

Sorrow

 
solemn
 

change

 

myriad

 

phases

 
passeth

plaintive

 
straightway
 

pervades

 

fought

 

conquered

 

centuries

 

hellish

 
footsteps
 

Eternal

 

Hunting


Grounds

 

tribes

 

dreams

 

incubus

 

filled

 

wretchedness

 

written

 

curses

 

Shrinks

 

scroll


thrall

 

rolled

 

passes

 

thought

 

complainings

 

Passes

 
chipmunk
 

nimble

 

celestial

 

ardent