Читать книгу A Voice on the Wind, and Other Poems - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 3

Do you know the way that goes

Over fields of rue and rose, —

Warm of scent and hot of hue,

Roofed with heaven's bluest blue, —

To the Vale of Dreams Come True?

Do you know the path that twines,

Banked with elder-bosks and vines,

Under boughs that shade a stream,

Hurrying, crystal as a gleam,

To the Hills of Love a-Dream?

Tell me, tell me, have you gone

Through the fields and woods of dawn,

Meadowlands and trees that roll,

Great of grass and huge of bole,

To the Land of Hearts Made Whole?

On the way, among the fields,

Poppies lift vermilion shields,

In whose hearts the golden Noon,

Murmuring her drowsy tune,

Rocks the sleepy bees that croon.

On the way, amid the woods,

Mandrakes muster multitudes,

'Mid whose blossoms, white as tusk,

Glides the glimmering Forest-Dusk,

With her fluttering moths of musk.

Here you hear the stealthy stir

Of shy lives of hoof and fur;

Harmless things that hide and peer,

Hearts that sucked the milk of fear —

Fox and rabbit, squirrel and deer.

Here you see the mossy flight

Of faint forms that love the night —

Whippoorwill- and owlet-things,

Whose far call before you brings

Wonder-worlds of happenings.

Now in sunlight, now in shade,

Water, like a brandished blade,

Foaming forward, wild of flight,

Startles then arrests the sight,

Whirling steely loops of light.

Thro' the tree-tops, down the vale,

Breezes pass and leave a trail

Of cool music that the birds,

Following in happy herds,

Gather up in twittering words.

Blossoms, frail and manifold,

Strew the way with pearl and gold;

Blurs, that seem the darling print

Of the Springtime's feet, or glint

Of her twinkling gown's torn tint.

There the myths of old endure:

Dreams that are the world-soul's cure;

Things that have no place or play

In the facts of Everyday

'Round your presence smile and sway.

Suddenly your eyes may see,

Stepping softly from her tree,

Slim of form and wet with dew,

The brown dryad; lips the hue

Of a berry bit into.

You may mark the naiad rise

From her pool's reflected skies;

In her gaze the heaven that dreams,

Starred, in twilight-haunted streams,

Mixed with water's grayer gleams.

You may see the laurel's girth,

Big of bloom, give fragrant birth

To the oread whose hair,

Musk and darkness, light and air,

Fills the hush with wonder there.

You may mark the rocks divide,

And the faun before you glide,

Piping on a magic reed,

Sowing many a music seed,

From which bloom and mushroom bead.

Of the rain and sunlight born,

Young of beard and young of horn,

You may see the satyr lie,

With a very knowing eye,

Teaching youngling birds to fly.

These shall cheer and follow you

Through the Vale of Dreams Come True;

Wind-like voices, leaf-like feet;

Forms of mist and hazy heat,

In whose pulses sunbeams beat.

Lo! you tread enchanted ground!

From the hollows all around

Elf and spirit, gnome and fay,

Guide your feet along the way

Till the dewy close of day.

Then beside you, jet on jet,

Emerald-hued or violet,

Flickering swings a firefly light,

Aye to guide your steps a-right

From the valley to the height.

Steep the way is; when at last

Vale and wood and stream are passed,

From the heights you shall behold

Panther heavens of spotted gold

Tiger-tawny deeps unfold.

You shall see on stocks and stones

Sunset's bell-deep color tones

Fallen; and the valleys filled

With dusk's purple music, spilled

On the silence rapture-thrilled.

Then, as answering bell greets bell,

Night ring in her miracle

Of the doméd dark, o'er-rolled,

Note on note, with starlight cold,

'Twixt the moon's broad peal of gold.

On the hill-top Love-a-Dream

Shows you then her window-gleam;

Brings you home and folds your soul

In the peace of vale and knoll,

In the Land of Hearts Made Whole.