Classic Poem

I.

Voices are on the winds! — I hear them now
Foating around me, musical and sweet
As are the waves of ocean when they meet,
Combing and flashing round some sunny prow; —
Then, as if seeking softer melody,
Back shrinking from the lately sought embrace;
Even as the new-won virgin, bashfully,
Love in her heart, but fear upon her face!
How exquisite, and yet how sad withal,
These murmurs, that fond meeting, and faint fall!
They swell upon my spirit's ear by night,
And morning brings them on her purple wings, —
Oh, Fancy! — as if feeding at thy springs,
They took from thee all voices of delight.

II.

Nor only of delight! The music swells
To sorrow, as the rosy day declines;
And folding up his wing among the vines,
The wandering zephyr of his garden tells
By the Euphrates. — Exiled from its flowers,
His wing is weary — he forgets its powers,
And his heart sinks with the decaying light, —
Most wretched, the Capricious! three long hours!
Ere dawn he plumes his wing for fresher flight,
Dreams of enduring joys in other bowers,
And wild his song of rapture that same night!
Rapture in sadness finds his fit repose,
As toil in sleep; and Fancy's self rebels,
Denied her evening bower and brief repose.

III.

Whoso denies this wholesome, natural want,
Endangers her existence! She must bask
Among the woods she rifles, — free from task,
The master's eye, and hard command, — and nap,
Where nature yields her groves and matron lap; —
Where birds sing slumber, and the hunted doe,
Assured of safety, stops a while to pant!
Thus resting she arises, prompt and strong,
With eye all vigor, — wing prepared to go,
Rapt, heavenward, in the upward-gushing song! —
Poised like the great sea-eagle in his state,
Sovereign 'mongst rolling clouds, careering free,
Or, like the meeker lark, at heaven's own gate,
That, in her love, proclaims her liberty.