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ess even Of sunset's flush! THE HOLY MOUNTAINS The holy mountains, The gay streams, Heavy shadows, And tall, trembling trees; The light that sleeps Between the heavy shadows, Wind that creeps Faintly, from far-off seas---- The mountains' light, Waters' noise, Trees' shadows, Clear, slow, calm air, Are dreams, dreams, And far, far-fallen echoes Of secret worlds And inconceivable dark seas. RAPTURE If thou hast grief And passion vex the spirit that is in thee-- There was a stony beach Where the heat flickered and the little waves Whispered each to each. Dove-coloured was that stony beach, And white birds hungering hovered over The shining waves; And men had kindled there A great fierce heap of golden flame-- Spoiled grasses with dead buttercups and pale clover. The agonising flame Yearned in its vitals towards the quiet air And died in a little smoke. And on the coloured beach the black warm ash Remained. Then on that warm ash Another heap of grasses was outpoured, And instant came Another knot of struggling yellow smoke That burst into new agonies of flame, Dying into a drift of smoke; And on the coloured beach the black cold ash Remained. Or is thy grief too deep, Passion too dear, the spirit in thee asleep?-- Twelve deep and sombre, still, Expectant, hushed, The miles-long crowd stood--and then listening. The nervous drums, The unendurable, low reeds: Silence--and then the nearing drums Again, again the thrilling reeds, And then (The deep crowd hushed) Following an almightier King That rode unseen, Drew near the tributary magnificence.... Hushed, hushed, The deep crowd stood, devouring, listening; But a child on his father's shoulder cried, "Hurrah, hurrah!"-- Only have thou no fear Pride, but no fear. MUSIC COMES Music comes Sweetly from the trembling string When wizard fingers sweep Dreamily, half asleep; When through remembering reeds Ancient airs and murmurs creep, Oboe oboe following, Flute answering clear high flute, Voices, voices--falling mute, And the jarring drums. At night I heard First a waking bird Out of the quiet darkness sing.... Music comes Strangely to the brain asleep! And I heard Soft, wizard fingers sweep Music from the trembling string, And through remembering reeds Ancient airs and murmurs creep; Oboe oboe following, Flute calling clear high flute, Voices faint, falling mute, And low jarring drums
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