o hearken, all ye little weeds
That lie beneath the snow,
(So low, dear hearts, in poverty so low!)
The sun hath risen for royal deeds,
A valiant wind the vanguard leads;
Now quicken ye, lest unborn seeds
Before ye rise and blow.
O furry living things, adream
On Winter’s drowsy breast,
(How rest ye...
O living image of eternal youth!
Wrought with such large simplicity of truth
That, now the pattern’s made and on the shelf,
Each vows he might have cut it for himself;
Nor marvels that we sang of empty days,
Of rank-grown laurel and unprunëd bays,
While yet, in all this lonely Crusoe land,
The Trilby footprint had not touched the sand....
Seal thou the window! Yea, shut out the light
And bar my door to all the airs of spring.
Yet in my cell, concealed from curious sight,
Here will I sit and sing.
Deaf, blind, and wilt Thou have me dumb, also,
Telling in silence these sad beads of days?
So let it be: though no sweet numbers flow,
My breath shall be Thy praise.
...
What, comrade of a night,
No sooner meet than fight?
Before the word, the blow?
Well, be it so.
Yet think not Thou I yield,
Lost on a lonely field.
Lo! to my fainting breath,
My champion, Death!
withdraw thee, soul, from strife.
Enter thine unseen bark,
And sail across the dark,
The silent sea of life.
Leave Care and Grief, feared now no more,
To wave and beckon from the shore.
Thy tenement is bare.
Shut are the burning eyes,
Ears deaf against surprise,
Limbs in a posture fair.
...
