III.
Look yonder where the clouds float; could we glide As they, across the sky"s blue sh.o.r.eless tide, What better were it than to dream Across yon lake and into this still stream?
IV.
Trees and a glimpse of sky!
And the slow river, quiet as a pool!
And thou and I--and thou and I-- Kiss me! How soft the air is and how cool!
THE WANDER-LOVERS.
Down the world with Marna!
That"s the life for me!
Wandering with the wandering wind, Vagabond and unconfined!
Roving with the roving rain Its unboundaried domain!
Kith and kin of wander-kind, Children of the sea!
Petrels of the sea-drift!
Swallows of the lea!
Arabs of the whole wide girth Of the wind-encircled earth!
In all climes we pitch our tents, Cronies of the elements, With the secret lords of birth Intimate and free.
All the seaboard knows us From Fundy to the Keys; Every bend and every creek Of abundant Chesapeake; Ardise hills and Newport coves And the far-off orange groves, Where Floridian oceans break, Tropic tiger seas.
Down the world with Marna, Tarrying there and here!
Just as much at home in Spain As in Tangier or Touraine!
Shakespeare"s Avon knows us well, And the crags of Neufchatel; And the ancient Nile is fain Of our coming near.
Down the world with Marna, Daughter of the air!
Marna of the subtle grace, And the vision in her face!
Moving in the measures trod By the angels before G.o.d!
With her sky-blue eyes amaze And her sea-blue hair!
Marna with the trees" life In her veins a-stir!
Marna of the aspen heart Where the sudden quivers start!
Quick-responsive, subtle, wild!
Artless as an artless child, Spite of all her reach of art!
Oh, to roam with her!
Marna with the wind"s will, Daughter of the sea!
Marna of the quick disdain, Starting at the dream of stain!
At a smile with love aglow, At a frown a statued woe, Standing pinnacled in pain Till a kiss sets free!
Down the world with Marna, Daughter of the fire!
Marna of the deathless hope, Still alert to win new scope Where the wings of life may spread For a flight unhazarded!
Dreaming of the speech to cope With the heart"s desire!
Marna of the far quest After the divine!
Striving ever for some goal Past the blunder-G.o.d"s control!
Dreaming of potential years When no day shall dawn in fears!
That"s the Marna of my soul, Wander-bride of mine!
DISCOVERY.
When the bugler morn shall wind his horn, And we wake to the wild to be, Shall we open our eyes on the selfsame skies And stare at the selfsame sea?
O new, new day! though you bring no stay To the strain of the sameness grim, You are new, new, new--new through and through, And strange as a lawless dream.
Will the driftwood float by the lonely boat And our prisoner hearts unbar, As it tells of the strand of an unseen land That lies not far, not far?
O new, new hope! O sweep and scope Of the glad, unlying sea!
You are new, new, new--with the promise true Of the dreamland isles to be.
Will the land-birds fly across the sky, Though the land is not to see?
Have they dipped and pa.s.sed in the sea-line vast?
Have we left the land a-lee?
O new despair! I though the hopeless air Grow foul with the calm and grieves, You are new, new, new--and we cleave to you As a soul to its freedom cleaves.
Does the falling night hide fiends to fight And phantoms to affray?
What demons lurk in the grisly mirk, As the night-watch waits for day?
O strange new gloom! we await the doom, And what doom none may deem; But it"s new, new, new--and we"ll sail it through, While the mocking sea-gulls scream.
A light, a light, in the dead of night, That lifts and sinks in the waves!
What folk are they who have kindled its ray,-- Men or the ghouls of graves?
O new, new fear! near, near and near, And you bear us weal or woe!
But you"re new, new, new--so a cheer for you!
And onward--friend or foe!
Shall the lookout call from the foretop tall, "Land, land!" with a maddened scream, And the crew in glee from the taffrail see Where the island palm-trees dream?
New heart, new eyes! For the morning skies Are a-chant with their green and gold!
New, new, new, new--new through and through!
New, new till the dawn is old!
A MORE ANCIENT MARINER.
The swarthy bee is a buccaneer, A burly velveted rover, Who loves the booming wind in his ear As he sails the seas of clover.
A waif of the goblin pirate crew, With not a soul to deplore him, He steers for the open verge of blue With the filmy world before him.