Слике страница
PDF
ePub

34

THERE IS NO AGE

There is no age-the swiftly passing hour That measures out our days of pilgrimage And breaks the heart of every summer flower,

Shall find again the child's soul in the sage.

There is no age, for youth is the divine ; And the white radiance of the timeless soul Burns like a silver lamp in that dark shrine That is the tired pilgrim's ultimate goal.

THE THISTLE

THERE'S no shade in the woods, through the moveless fir branches the sunlight streams down,

Lying thick on the roots and mosses, and delicate fronds of wild fern,

And the gray hills stand carven about us like the cold dead walls of a town,

And the pines are as pillars, the mountains like marble towers at sunset burn, Yet here on the sunburnt heights of the world the springs of the cool rivers are, Up here on the high mountain meadow lost to the life of the plain below,

36

THE THISTLE

The thistle has bloomed in a great white flower that dreams on the grass like a

star

For out of sharp darkness and sword blades in silence the light of the world must grow

Whilst away on the distant mountain side

the torrent thunders afar,

And the thirsty valley stretches her lips to meet the cold touch of the snow.

[ocr errors]

Oh ye men who have built up the marble, and carved out your hearts in the stone, Behold the white flower in the meadow was

shaped by the hands of a God,

By the storms of the world your high towers shall be blasted and overthrown,

But the white thistle flower is rooted firm in

the will of the life-giving sod.

THE INNER LIGHT

BETWEEN the mountains and the sea
I trod last night on holy ground,
Standing beside the quicken tree,
I saw no sight, I heard no sound.

Between the darkness and the light
Vainly the haunted hour stood still,
Void of all vision came the night,
No magic fire burnt on the hill.

The mystic earth seemed but dull ground
And empty wastes of wood and sea,
Yet deep in my deep heart I found

The druid vision of the Shee.

38

THE INNER LIGHT

I stand between the night and day

Once more in the dim world of dreams,
And over miles of glimmering gray

Far out at sea the sunset gleams.

Now between silence and a song

Once more the haunted hour stands still,
About my path the pale dreams throng,
And magic fires burn on the hill.

Through the greenlands a strange voice

glides,

And lights flash near the quicken tree,

Yet deep in the deep soul abides

The druid vision of the Shee.

« ПретходнаНастави »