Collected Works (Vol. III)

142 ORPHEUS We come, we mountains, crowned and in- cense-bringing, Robed as white priests, the solemn anthem singing $ Or as an organ thundering fiery tunes. We come, we greener hills, and rend the sky, With happier chorus and the songs that die Or mix their subtle joy and being with the moon’s. We come, we pine-clad steeps, we feathery slopes, With footfalls softer than tne antelope’s. We listen and obey: the sacred slumberer swoons More tranced than deacn in this far follow- ing, Careless of winter, not invoking spring ; And all the witless woods company us and sing. But not the glades by song of thee unstricken ? Not they? Shall they refuse the pulse to quicken, Soft smiting the low melody of light? Tuned without fingers, the wild woods lift high The wordless chant, the murmurous melody, The song that dwells like moon-enkindled night. We draw from low palm groves and cedar hills, From stern grey slumbers, for thy music fills All earth with unimaginable delight. Have we not brought the leaves dew- diamonded, The buds fresh-gleaming, star-blossoms, and shed Our scent and colour and song around thy sacred head ? We that are flowers are kindled in thy praise, Even as thy song shed lustre and swift rays, Darting to brighten and open the folded flowers. The violet lifts its head, the lily lightens, ‘he daisy shakes its dew, the pansy brightens, All cups of molten light upon the twilight hours. The poppy flames anew, the buttercup Glows with fresh fire, the larkspur rouses up To be the lark indeed amid the azalea bowers. Magnolia and light blooms of roses mute Rouse them to gather in one golden lute In fairy light and song into the sky to shoot. The laughing companies of corn awaken, Their wind-swept waves by Deedal music taken Into a golden heaven of festal song. We shake and glisten in the sun, we see The very soul and majesty of thee Thrill in the lyre and leave the lazy long Notes for crisp magic of sharp rustling sound, And thy life quickens and thy loves abound, Listening the answer of our dancing throng, Joy, sleep, peace, laughter, thought, remem- brance, came Even at our prelude, a death-quickening flame, And earth rejoiced throughout to hear De- meter’s name. We come, in bass deep-swelling, rocks and caves, A hollow roar across the golden waves Hidden in islands set deep in the un- travelled sea. Across the corn from storm-cleft mountain- sides Our voice peals, like the thunder of the tides, Into the darkling hills that fringe Eternity. Dire and divine our womb unfruitful bears Deep music darker than tempestuous airs When Heaven’s anger wakes: when at our own decree, Withclanging rocks sky-piercing forour tomb, We call the thunder from our own black womb, We hear the voice and we obey—we know not whom ! We hear thee, who are cliffs and pinnacles lligher than heaven’s hase, founded far in hell’s ; We hear, that sunder the blue skies of heaven ;