Orpheus

Whence timid eyes look far, Even where her kisses are Awaited by the tender mother lips, Earth’s, that is lonely and old, Grown sad, fearful, and cold With bitter winter and the sun’s eclipse ; So the child slips From bough to bough between the weeping tress, And with frail fingers smooths and touches them. They murmur in their sleep: the moonlight dips And laughs, seeing how young buds catch life from these Child-kisses on the stem. The leaves laugh low, and frosty-footed Time Shoulders a lighter burden ; in the dale Some distant notes of lovely music climb, Thrown from the golden-throated nightingale, Pale sobs of love and life With death and fear at strife, Fiercely beset and hardly conquering, When spring’s bright eyes at last Flash through the sullen past, And tune its pain to tears, its peace to sing. The earth’s lips cling To the child’s bosom, and low smiles revive ; Love is new-born upon the golden hour, And all the life of all the exultant spring Breathes in the wind that wakes the world alive Into the likeness of a flower. 77