Classic Poem

Part II.

1

That dream came not again to me,
Nor any dream at all;
But well I knew, as the days went past,
There held me fast in thrall
A something of that shrouded thing
That wrapped me like a pall.

2

An aura drear that sever'd me
From men and the ways of men;
As some great evil I had done
My friends did shun me then;
I felt accurst, and kept apart,
And sought them not again.

3

But O how chill the World did grow!
And the Sun, as a thing unreal,
Did glare and glare thro' the vacant day,
And never a ray I'd feel
To warm my blood, the light fell thin
And grey as spectral steel.

4

A pale disease took hold on me,
And when the night would come
I had no rest, but sleepless lay
As stark as clay, and numb;
And could not stir till dawn would break
Nor gasp, for I was dumb.

5

And yet were times all faintly tinged
With a glimmering ecstasy;
Moments that linger'd in their flight,
Trailing a light to me
Elusive and wan as the phosphor foam
That floats on the midnight sea.

6

And out of my stricken body then
My soul would seem to creep,
And over a sheer unfathom'd brink
Of silence sink asleep,
Beyond the shadow and sound of dreams,
And deeper than Earth is deep.

7

Yet ever from those slumber spells,
That seem'd like years, I'd start
Sudden awake, bewilder'd by
A presence nigh my heart,
As if a soul had stirr'd in me
That of me was no part.

8

And so three seasons pass'd away,
And the early Summer came;
And still that weird fantasy
Enshrouded me the same;
But now it seem'd as luminous
With some alchemic flame.

9

At length in a garden wide and old,
A garden all my own,
One afternoon I lay at ease
Under the trees alone,
While the fragrant day fell off in the West
Like a Titan rose o'erblown.

10

And lying there I dream'd once more,
And it seemed that a scarlet bird
Flew out of my heart with a joyous cry,
To the topmost sky, and I heard
Her song come echoing down to me,
Yearning word on word:

11

" Slow — slow!
O moments — O ages slow!
But love shall be my own again —
Be it moments or ages slow! "