登陆注册
15729400000183

第183章

Later, by wayward fancies led, For the wide world I panted;Out of the forest dark and dread Across the open fields I fled, Like one pursued and haunted.

I tossed my arms, I sang aloud, My voice exultant blending With thunder from the passing cloud, The wind, the forest bent and bowed, The rush of rain descending.

I heard the distant ocean call, Imploring and entreating;Drawn onward, o'er this rocky wall I plunged, and the loud waterfall Made answer to the greeting.

And now, beset with many ills, A toilsome life I follow;Compelled to carry from the hills These logs to the impatient mills Below there in the hollow.

Yet something ever cheers and charms The rudeness of my labors;Daily I water with these arms The cattle of a hundred farms, And have the birds for neighbors.

Men call me Mad, and well they may, When, full of rage and trouble, I burst my banks of sand and clay, And sweep their wooden bridge away, Like withered reeds or stubble.

Now go and write thy little rhyme, As of thine own creating.

Thou seest the day is past its prime;

I can no longer waste my time;

The mills are tired of waiting.

POSSIBILITIES

Where are the Poets, unto whom belong The Olympian heights; whose singing shafts were sent Straight to the mark, and not from bows half bent, But with the utmost tension of the thong?

Where are the stately argosies of song, Whose rushing keels made music as they went Sailing in search of some new continent, With all sail set, and steady winds and strong?

Perhaps there lives some dreamy boy, untaught In schools, some graduate of the field or street, Who shall become a master of the art, An admiral sailing the high seas of thought, Fearless and first and steering with his fleet For lands not yet laid down in any chart.

DECORATION DAY

Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest On this Field of the Grounded Arms, Where foes no more molest, Nor sentry's shot alarms!

Ye have slept on the ground before, And started to your feet At the cannon's sudden roar, Or the drum's redoubling beat.

But in this camp of Death No sound your slumber breaks;Here is no fevered breath, No wound that bleeds and aches.

All is repose and peace, Untrampled lies the sod;The shouts of battle cease, It is the Truce of God!

Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!

The thoughts of men shall be As sentinels to keep Your rest from danger free.

Your silent tents of green We deck with fragrant flowers;Yours has the suffering been, The memory shall be ours.

A FRAGMENT

Awake! arise! the hour is late!

Angels are knocking at thy door!

They are in haste and cannot wait, And once departed come no more.

Awake! arise! the athlete's arm Loses its strength by too much rest;The fallow land, the untilled farm Produces only weeds at best.

LOSS AND GAIN

When I compare What I have lost with what I have gained, What I have missed with what attained, Little room do I find for pride.

I am aware How many days have been idly spent;How like an arrow the good intent Has fallen short or been turned aside.

But who shall dare To measure loss and gain in this wise?

Defeat may be victory in disguise;

The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

INSCRIPTION ON THE SHANKLIN FOUNTAIN

O traveller, stay thy weary feet;

Drink of this fountain, pure and sweet;

It flows for rich and poor the same.

Then go thy way, remembering still The wayside well beneath the hill, The cup of water in His name.

THE BELLS OF SAN BLAS

What say the Bells of San Blas To the ships that southward pass From the harbor of Mazatlan?

To them it is nothing more Than the sound of surf on the shore,--Nothing more to master or man.

But to me, a dreamer of dreams, To whom what is and what seems Are often one and the same,--The Bells of San Blas to me Have a strange, wild melody, And are something more than a name.

For bells are the voice of the church;

They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old;One sound to all, yet each Lends a meaning to their speech, And the meaning is manifold.

They are a voice of the Past, Of an age that is fading fast, Of a power austere and grand, When the flag of Spain unfurled Its folds o'er this western world, And the Priest was lord of the land.

The chapel that once looked down On the little seaport town Has crumbled into the dust;And on oaken beams below The bells swing to and fro, And are green with mould and rust.

"Is, then, the old faith dead,"

They say, "and in its stead Is some new faith proclaimed, That we are forced to remain Naked to sun and rain, Unsheltered and ashamed?

"Once, in our tower aloof, We rang over wall and roof Our warnings and our complaints;And round about us there The white doves filled the air, Like the white souls of the saints.

"The saints! Ah, have they grown Forgetful of their own?

Are they asleep, or dead, That open to the sky Their ruined Missions lie, No longer tenanted?

"Oh, bring us back once more The vanished days of yore, When the world with faith was filled;Bring back the fervid zeal, The hearts of fire and steel, The hands that believe and build.

"Then from our tower again We will send over land and main Our voices of command, Like exiled kings who return To their thrones, and the people learn That the Priest is lord of the land!"O Bells of San Blas in vain Ye call back the Past again;The Past is deaf to your prayer!

Out of the shadows of night The world rolls into light;It is daybreak everywhere.

*************

FRAGMENTS

October 22, 1838.

Neglected record of a mind neglected, Unto what "lets and stops" art thou subjected!

The day with all its toils and occupations, The night with its reflections and sensations, The future, and the present, and the past,--All I remember, feel, and hope at last, All shapes of joy and sorrow, as they pass,--Find but a dusty image in this glass.

August 18, 1847.

O faithful, indefatigable tides, That evermore upon God's errands go,--Now seaward bearing tidings of the land,--Now landward bearing tidings of the sea,--And filling every frith and estuary, Each arm of the great sea, each little creek, Each thread and filament of water-courses, Full with your ministration of delight!

同类推荐
热门推荐
  • 雨霖铃系列

    雨霖铃系列

    枫源高中是人界一间最普通不过的学校,但最普通的学校里往往都会有最不普通的学生。像是枫源学生会,就被本外校的学生们戏称为“雨霖铃学生会”。原因无他,只是因为学生会除却会长楚桀帝,其余七位干事的名字连起来就是——杨柳岸晓风残月。又恰巧这七名干事都是万中无一的美女,楚桀帝作为唯一的男性,就像那时常流连于青楼的大词人柳永一般,万花丛中过,片叶不沾身。可是却很少有人知道,“雨霖铃”背后所隐藏的秘密。比如会长楚桀帝其实是魔界的皇太子。又比如副会长甫杨是“雨霖铃”里唯一的人类,却也是亿万人中也不见得有一个的能免疫魔力、仙力、鬼力……总之就是所有非物理伤害的灵能者。
  • 混迹在花都

    混迹在花都

    特种兵退役之后,是为何坐拥数位美女的呢?敬请关注《混迹在花都》!
  • 莎车府乡土志

    莎车府乡土志

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。
  • 江西诗派小序

    江西诗派小序

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。
  • 流氓死灵法师

    流氓死灵法师

    一个出生于死亡家庭的男孩,因为父母的关系回到了他们的那世界,他以他的武技,魔法,幽默,流氓个性在那世界四处冒险,他的家族给他的是:异类,他的敌人给他的是:他还是人吗?他的同伴给他的是:他真的是……
  • 神奇知识大百科

    神奇知识大百科

    一本让你看起来无所不知的书。神奇知识:指的是琐碎的、庞杂的事情或知识等,或许饶富趣味、并随时充斥在我们的生活周遭,却鲜少人会去注意。不冷不知识,胡说八道也是一种凉凉的知识……做一个“神奇知识知识达人”,让你在日常交际中成为耀眼的“话题王”。丰富的冷门知识,让你备受欢迎与人沟通更加自如更加高效。现代版的十万个为什么。
  • 爱上宅女的帅小子们

    爱上宅女的帅小子们

    什么?离开她五年的父母居然各自派了一个男生来‘照顾’她,有没有搞错啊?照顾?是来整她的吧!第一次见到江卫皓和轩辕晨曦,好吧,她承认,长得都很帅!特别是但是,她又不是花痴,这是她的家耶,怎么他们倒像是主人?居然赶也赶不走!完全就是痞子行为!住在她家,她忍了!可是,轩辕晨曦居然还弄了个“淑女法则”出来,还名正言顺的告诉她,是她老妈请他来的!目的就是为了改造她!什么跟什么嘛!改造?说得好听!是来整她才对吧!可恶!她是绝对不会认输的!可是为什么,相处之后,面对轩辕晨曦,她总是会不自觉的依赖他……时而温柔,时而冷漠,时而带点痞痞的样子,到底哪一个才是真正的他?还有江卫皓,为什么看到他,会觉得熟悉?
  • 神奇宝贝我是晴雨

    神奇宝贝我是晴雨

    女孩十一个从未经历过任何事情的"小"女生,当她发现自己已经脱离了这个社会的时候,已经不能只靠努力就可以改变的了,所以她请求上天在给自己一次重生的机会,让她从新认知自我、改变自我、再一次祈求的时候她遇见了一位老者从而穿越了时空,在穿越的同时给了她几个愿望,当她来到神奇宝贝世界之后的一些故事。
  • exo不可能原谅你

    exo不可能原谅你

    你们给我的痛苦,我会加倍还回来--------郑秀晶
  • 黑少校草

    黑少校草

    进入省级重点高校,完虐各种混混,遇到一个她她遇到一个他