Collected Works (Vol. I)

128 MYSTERIES: LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC Tune my lesser lyre with other fingers, Yet am not a whit the less belovéd. Unto me the stars are never silent, Nor do sea and storm-deny their music, Nor do flower and breeze refuse their kisses : So my soul.is flooded with their magic; So my love completes the joy of living. . I am like the earth, to whom there gather Rays of gold to bid the gray horizon Melt, recede, and brighten into azure. Let me sing, O holy one, Apollo! Sing as Horace sang, and flood the ocean With a living ecstasy of music Till the whole creation echo, echo, Echo till the tune dissolve the heavens? Still song lingers; lamely from the lute- string Steals a breath of melody; the forest Treasures in its glades the sighs I utter. Yet may I be happy, storing honey Lover’s lips hold, gathering the sunlight Eyes and hair have kept for me, delighting In the bells far-off, in yonder thrushes, In the tawny songster of the forest, In the stream’s song, all the words of passion, Echoes of the deeper words unspoken In thy breast and mine, O heart of silence ! Will they pierce one day to other nations Clear and strong and triumphing? It may be. Then we shall not envy you, my Horace !