Classic Poem

Water singing

" Snow is white,
Sunshine is sweet,
The sky is fair as violets are,
Snowbell has lilies for her feet,
She is fair and she is sweet,
And pure is night.
How soft the wing is of the dove,
And Spring is tender, what is love?
Deep as the seas,
Untold and millionfold, like worlds i' the height;
And she is love, and she is sweet and fairer far
Than these or anything, than all things are. "

Sings the water, singing in sleep,
In a dream,
With a noise like the voice
Of some strange, hidden bird,
Dimly heard from afar,
Asleep, and the lisps of the sound,
Growing dimmer, creep wide round the rim;
Seem to die,
Lapse back from the brim;
Suck in to the heart, sweep out again, lie
On the crest; fade and swell,
Without rest, " Snowbell, "
In a dream.

Hours and hours — Lo! she is weary,
Fallen beside the water, with her cheek upon it,
Her coral lips apart: she would have spoken,
But that sleep came upon her heavily,
And the intent was broken
Into sighing. Now and anon a little wondering sigh,
Hours upon hours in magic slumber lying.

Speak, gentle night winds,
Stir the grass;
Wake, move amongst her hair,
Creep sweet into her breast;
Yea, kiss her lips, and say,
" Snowbell, that wert most fair, this day
Thou hast no peer, "
Once, twice, and thrice upon her lips so dear.