Collected Works (Vol. III)

LIBER PRIMUS VEL CARMINUM I am Light in thy Love, I am Love in thy Life. I am cloistered above Where the stars are at strife. I am life in thy light, and thy death Is part of my breath. My voices are many, Thy lyre is but one ; But thou art not as any Soul under the sun ! Thou hast power for an hour, The motherly dower. One voice of my voices Uncalled and unheard, No song that rejoices OF beast or of bird, No sound of my children sublime, But the spirit of time. Fear is his name, Nor flickers nor dies His blackening flame. Beware, were thou wise ! Not him shalt thou hail from the dusk with thy breath ; His name—it is Death! My seasons and years, Shalt thou traffic with these? Art thou Fate? Are her shears Asleep or at ease? Though Time were no more than the shape of thy glass— Beware ! let him pass ! ORPHEUS. Not these do I fear, O Earth, for their peace. I cry till they hear O’er the desolate seas. I call ye! give ear, O seasons, to these Fleet-footed, the strings of the lyre ! forth ! I invoke ye—and cease. VOL. III. Come O hours of the day, And hours of the night, Pause now while ye may In your heavenly flight ! Give answer and say, Have I called ye aright? Are the strings of my lyre as fire, the voice of my singing as light? THE Hours. Darkness and daylight in divided measure Gather as petals of the sunflower, In many seasons seek the lotus-treasure, Following as dancing maidens, mute for pleasure, The fervent flying footsteps of the Hour. The sun looks over the memorial hills, The trampling of his horses heard as wind ; He leaps and turns, and all his fragrance fills The shade and silence ; all the rocks and rills Ring with the triumph of his steeds behind. The bright air winnowed by the plumeless leapers Laughs, and the low light pierces to the bed Where lovers linger, where the smiling sleepers Stir, and the herds unmindful of their keepers Low for pure love of morning’s dewy head. The morning shakes its ocean-bathéd tresses, The bright sun broadens over all the earth. The green leaves fall, fall into his caresses, And all the world’s heart leaps, again ad- dresses Its life, and girds it in the golden girth. Then noon full-fashioned lies upon the steep. The large sun sighs and turns his bridle- rein, Thinks of the ocean, turns his heart to sleep, Laughing no longer, not yet prone to weep, Feeling the prelude of the coming pain. K