Song-waves.
by Theodore H. Rand.
TO EMELINE.
I would enshrine in silvern song The charm that bore our souls along, As in the sun-flushed days of summer We felt the pulsings of nature"s throng;
When flecks of foam of flying spray Smote white the red sun"s torrid ray, Or wimpling fogs toyed with the mountain, Aerial spirits of dew at play;
When hovering stars, poised in the blue, Came down and ever closer drew; Or, in the autumn air astringent, Glimmered the pearls of the moonlit dew.
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We talked of bird and flower and tree, Of G.o.d and man and destiny.
The years are wise though days be foolish, We said, as swung to its goal the sea.
Our spirits knew keen fellowship Of light and shadow, heart and lip; The veil of Maya grew transparent, And hidden things came within our grip.
And then we sang: "In Arcady All hearts are born, thus happy-free, Till film of sin shuts out the Vision That is, and was, and that is to be."
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Thus wrought the Seen-Unseen the spell To which our spirits rose and fell.
As drops of dew throb with the ocean, We felt ourselves of His tidal swell.
"Nature"s enchantment is of Love,-- Goodness, and truth, and beauty wove; In Him all things do hold together, And onward, upward to Him they move."
And as we spake the full moon came, A splendid globe in silver flame, From out the dusky waste of waters, Reposeful sped by His mighty name.
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Sweetheart, I dedicate to thee These Song-Waves from life"s voiceful sea.
They ebb and flow with swift occasion, Bearing rich freight, and perhaps debris.
Each murmuring low its song apart May hint a symphony of art, Since under all, within, and over, Is diapason of Love"s great heart.
For thee, as on the bridal day, (Sweet our November as the May!) Are joined in one our high communings; So take them, dear, as thine own, I pray.
TORONTO, 1900.
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SONG-WAVES
O soul, that art essential change, Bickering beams, a flutter strange, Lightning of thought and gust of pa.s.sion, A silver thread in this mountain range;
The waters of thy shimmering rill, More real are they than granite hill; Thy tremulous waves of mystic feeling Nourish a life of enduring will.
The sun and moon from s.p.a.cious height, And stars, may crumble into night; Why shouldst thou cease to move forever, A living glow of eternal light?
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Spirit of Song, life"s golden ray That burneth in this house of clay, Despite the stress of blast and tempest To quench the flickering light and play;
Rapture of seraphs bright thou art, Yet kindlest in the human heart The fluid soul"s upbreathed emotion, Whose light shines clear as a star apart,--
A fairer light of sweeter fame Than science knows to praise or blame, Wherein the soul has open vision, And feels the glow of His holy flame.
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Impressions vast and vague flow in From Somewhat that to me is kin.
Shall I a.s.semble them all careless In the mind"s garret or waste dust-bin?
Nay. In solution in the soul"s Own hot equators, frosty poles, I"ll more and more their import cherish, Their deeps on deeps to my shelving shoals.
O heart, with tentacles in sea, Like oral-disked anemone, Taste thou the wine of sh.o.r.eless oceans, And feed on food that was meant for thee!
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"Tis fit the bloodroot in white hood Should brave the parting winter"s mood,-- Come, thou, pale violet, streaked, sweet-scented, Beside the runs of this tempered wood.
I hunger for thy gentle face, Sweetest of all the wildwood race!
O flower, at once ideal and essence, Why stayest thou from thy wonted place?
Thou art not dead? Nay, when death crept Upon thy form, thy full life leapt Defiance at the harsh destroyer, And slept as seed! Thou hast overslept.
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The sweep, O heart, of Love"s account!
Hearken: "I am of life the Fount; All are within My deeps of Being, The toiling city, the sea, the mount.
"Yea, when thou cleav"st the pillared tree, Raisest the stone, I am with thee; Darkness and light, flux and becoming, Signal My presence, and ceaselessly.
"Regard Me not as though afar; Ope thine heart"s eyes, and, lo, My Star Burns "neath Time"s vesture, true Shekinah, Centre and Soul of the things that are."