Classic Poem

The Beautiful lived in the Land of the Blest,
By the Beautiful River that winds to the West.
Through the Valley that True Love loves the best.

But she did not live in a castle-tower,
Nor yet on a throne; but like a flower,
With the infinite canopy for her bower.

And under her leafy balcony,
At a lattice dear to the honey-bee,
And the humming-bird,—was a Tulip-tree.

And among its leaves was the hidden nest,
Of a Wonderful Bird with a luminous crest,
And the dew and the blue on its wings and breast:

And there at the lattice, and all alone,
The strange Bird sang in a low, sweet tone,
As a soul doth to itself make moan!

And the first that ever the Beautiful heard
Of its plaintive lay, she loved the bird,
For her heart was touched, and her soul was stirred.

And as soon as the day had gone to rest,
She always arose with the Star in the West,
And opened her casement to the nest.

Then from the leafy aureole
Of the Tulip-tree a sweet strain stole,
And kissed to sleep her white-robed soul!

And the Beautiful was beatified,
And blushed in her dream like a bashful bride,
When her heart's Heart first beats at her side.

For she dreamed…that her lone guest,
With the heavenly music in its breast,
Was the Soul that, of all souls, loved her best.

And the rapturous heart-warmth of the rose.
Seemed to blend with the purity of the snows,
In the perfect sweetness of her repose.

—But once, as the night rose to depart,
The Beautiful woke with a sudden start,
And a fluttering, as it were, in her heart;

And she put forth her hands in wistful quest,
And a Living Wonder lay on her breast,
That had just fluttered down, as it were, from the nest!

And the Beautiful, in her faintness, smiled.