The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning-star shines dead. As on the jag of a mountain crag, Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, Its ardours of rest and of love, And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Glides glimmering o'er my fleecelike floor, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, From cape to cape, with a bridgelike shape, Over a torrent sea, Sunbeam proof, I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march When the powers of the air are chain'd to my chair, The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove, I am the daughter of earth and water, I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain, when with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again. AN EXHORTATION. CHAMELEONS feed on light and air; Poets' food is love and fame: If in this wide world of care Poets could but find the same With as little toil as they, Would they ever change their hue Suiting it to every ray Poets are on this cold earth, Yet dare not stain with wealth or power MUTABILITY. THE flower that smiles to-day To-morrow dies; All that we wish to stay, What is this world's delight? Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere night, Whilst yet the calm hours creep, TO NIGHT. SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Blind with thine hair the eyes of day, Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand,— Come, long sought! When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, Thy brother, Death, came, and cried, Thy sweet child, Sleep, thy filmy-eyed, Shall I nestle near thy side? Death will come when thou art dead, Sleep will come when thou art fled; TO A SKYLARK. HAIL to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wert, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. |