Classic Poem

I

Mid the dim, shy, woods
Where the grey light broods,
And the shadows sleep
Like deep-dreaming sheep
'Neath the long, vague, aisles

— —

Not a leaf or needle stirs
On the birches or the firs,
Ev'ry bird, and tree, and bush,
Is enthralled in one, deep, hush
Waiting patient, mile on mile
For the rapture, for the bliss
Of the drowsy Dawn's first kiss
When she wakes with sleepy smile.

— —

Hark! a little bird awakes
To his mate a twitter makes,
Then from out his slim, brown, throat
Thrilling song begins to float, —
First so low 'tis hard to hear,
Then it mounts without a fear,
Even higher, ever higher
Soaring, one, long, stream of fire,
Blinding the fair face of Day,
Then it throbbing dies away.

— —

See! A shiver shakes the trees,
Sighing softly wakes the breeze,
Ev'ry bird awakes and sings
Till the forest swings and rings,
And the whole, vague, aisles along
Swoon with an ecstasy of song;
Awake! Awake! 'Tis day!

II

A whimsical, laughing, lazy, breeze
Teasing and pleasing the little green leaves,
And kissing the feet of noon 'neath the trees

— —

The words are aleap with life and sound
From the tree-tops high to the genial ground: —
The bumble bee with his buzzing song
Is gathering honey the whole day long, —
The mother bird on her swaying nest
Is singing the song she loves the best;
A song to the darlings beneath her breast;
And flitting father is finding food
To fill the beaks of his feathered brood; —
The tall, graves trees are the thinkers that think,
And in weighty thoughts their high heads sink,
The tall, grave trees are the dreamers that dream,
And Oh! for the dreams which in them teem!

— —

So work, and sing and dream, while you may,
For Death may speak at the end of Day.

III

A sleep-seducing stillness broods
Within the wistful, waiting, woods
And Shades, precursors of their queen
The falling flowers of darkness gleam,
And sitting down behind each tree
They weave their wreaths with witchery,
But they are wild, and shy, and free,
And on approaching quickly flee.
The speeding Day purloins the light,
And from afar the voice of Night
Melodious, and full, and deep,
Is coaxing sleep, is coaxing sleep.

--

The stars appear and coyly wink,
And Dian stops to think and think
Her pale, high, brow aglow with light
The woods are still with straining sight —
The woods are still with straining sight —
Behold! She comes, the queen of Night!
A queen indeed in shape and size
With haunting grace, and haunting eyes.
The grass and flowers beneath her feet
Sink into slumber strange and sweet,
She charms to rest by slow degrees
The birds, the leaves, the trees, the breeze:
And then she sits upon her throne
A figure motionless, alone,
Her solemn, radiant, vigil keeping
Never sleeping, never sleeping; —
So sleep! sleep! sleep!