Classic Poem

XLI.

The lone swampy island lay down in the river,
Whose strong nervous waves made the ground and trees quiver;
It swung with its head up the stream, anchored lightly
By the tree roots and marsh-plants that just held it tightly.

XLII.

It trembles for ever as the ruffled stream rushes,
And the mud-bubbles splutter and quake in the bushes;
Nay, it seemed in the twilight to float by the marge,
Uneasily slow, like a half-sunken barge.

XLIII.

He looked to the shore, — faded herbage, wild swamp,
One ruined old mosque, all begreened with the damp;
The willows leaned over in half-fallen ranks,
And the cold river gurgled under the banks.

XLIV.

The moon could scarce rise, and she rose all of blood,
And with lurid reflection bedabbled the flood;
And the night-wind fled frightenedly past with a wail,
As if some deed of murder had freighted the gale.

XLV.

Then when the wind had passed on out of hearing,
Came an audible hush, as if spirits were nearing
The lone willow-island, and made the Prince shiver,
And long to seek rest in that black rushing river.

XLVI.

Then straightway wild music played over the scene,
The moon became white, and the earth moonlit green,
And the breaths from the mosses like incense rose up,
And each still open flower caught the dew in its cup.

XLVII.

What is it? the features of earth seem uncommon;
His heart glows with thoughts that are wilder than human;
And surely that music, those waves of bright light,
Are more than the charm of a beautiful night.

XLVIII.

He felt the strange wail of the music dissolving
The life that was in him, and new life evolving;
His innermost being turned fluent, and fled,
As if magnets were drawing it out of its bed.

XLIX.

He saw it go forth in thin streams of gray light,
Which was greedily drunk by the darkness of night;
For a moment he seemed to flow out upon nature,
Without personality, substance, or feature.

L.

Then back came his life like a tide-wave sublime;
It had circled the world in that moment of time.
But what was it like? Was it matter, or spirit?
Should he welcome it, love it? or shun it, and fear it?