Jephthah and Other Mysteries

LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC. 201 Cool breeze sings to the glad fresh river, Stream sings back to the summer leaves, Little leaves in the moonlight shiver, Little nets that the moonlight weaves Round the limbs of a bough that cleaves Fast to the oak whose branches quiver With the kiss of the wind as its bosom heaves. Yonder, far by the gleaming border, Pale gold reaches of sunny sand Stretch their arms to the fierce marauder, The cold sweet sea with its iron hand Menacing all the fair fresh land, Where no tall cliff as a faithful warder, Guarding the coast from its wrath, may stand. Arrows born of the sunlight gleam Through the temperate world of spring, Air moves up in a sweet hot steam, Where the birds in the wheatfields sing; She the queen, and our love the king, Rule the world, and our banners stream Gold and green where the vine-leaves cling. While the moon is above the heather Here we lie in a pleasant swoon, Till the blue of the faint fresh weather - Summon the spirits that throng the noon. Here we lie, till the dawn’s best boon Of a breeze that shall gladden us both together, Kissing beneath the harvest moon.