The Poet's Secret

The poet’s secret I must know, If that will calm my restless mind. I hail the seasons as they go, I woo the sunshine, brave the wind. I scan the lily and the rose, I nod to every nodding tree, I follow every stream that flows, And wait beside the steadfast sea. I question melancholy eyes, I touch the lips of women fair: Their lips and eyes may make me wise, But what I seek for is not there. In vain I watch the day and night, In vain the world through space may roll; I never see the mystic light Which fills the poet’s happy soul. Through life I hear the rhythmic flow Whose meaning into song must turn; Revealing all he longs to know, The secret each alone must learn.

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As one who follows a departing friend, Destined to cross the great, dividing sea, I watch and follow these departing days, That go so grandly, lifting up their crowns Still regal, though their victor Autumn comes. Gifts they bestow, which I accept, return, As gifts exchanged between a loving...

I feel the breath of the summer night, Aromatic fire: The trees, the vines, the flowers are astir With tender desire. The white moths flutter about the lamp, Enamoured with light; And a thousand creatures softly sing A song to the night! But I am alone, and how can I sing...

Stop on the Appian Way, In the Roman Campagna; Stop at my tomb, The tomb of Cecilia Metella. To-day as you see it Alaric saw it, ages ago, When he, with his pale-visaged Goths, Sat at the gates of Rome, Reading his Runic shield. Odin, thy curse remains! Beneath these battlements...

Under a sultry, yellow sky, On the yellow sand I lie; The crinkled vapors smite my brain, I smoulder in a fiery pain. Above the crags the condor flies; He knows where the red gold lies, He knows where the diamonds shine;— If I knew, would she be mine? Mercedes in her hammock swings; In her court...

in the still, star-lit night, By the full fountain and the willow-tree, I walked, and not alone— A spirit walked with me! A shade fell on the grass; Upon the water fell a deeper shade: Something the willow stirred, For to and fro it swayed. The grass was in a quiver, The water trembled...