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Blooms of the Berry
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The passion of her night,
And of her death the might;
They who had tears and sighs
For every bud that dies
While the dew on it lies;
They who had utterance for
Each warm, rose-hearted star
That stammers from afar;
The demon of vast seas,
The lips of lyric trees,
Lays of sonorous bees;
The fragrance-fays that dower
Each wildwood bosk and bower
With its faint musk of flower;
Of Time the feverish flight;
Earth, man, and, last, man's right
To thee, O Infinite!
FAIRIES
On the tremulous coppice,
From her plenteous hair,
Large golden-rayed poppies
Of moon-litten air
The Night hath flung there.
In the fern-favored hollow
The fire-flies fleet
Uncertainly follow
Pale phantoms of heat,
Druid shadows that meet.
Hidden flowers are fragrant;
The night hazes furl
O'er the solitudes vagrant
In purple and pearl,
Sway-swinging and curl.
From moss-cushioned valley
Where the red sunlight fails,
Rocks where musically
The hollow spring wails,
And the limber fern trails,
With a ripple and twinkle
Of luminous arms,
Of voices that tinkle,
And feet that are storms
Of chaste, naked charms,
Like echoes that revel
On hills, where the brier
Vaults roofs of dishevel
And green, greedy fire,
They come as a choir.
At the root of the mountain
Where the dim forest lies,
By the spar-spouting fountain
Where the low lily dies,
With their star-stinging eyes.
They gather sweet singing
In voices that seem
Faint ringing and clinging
In dreams that we dream,
In visions that gleam.
Sweet lisping of kisses,
Dry rustle of hair;
A footfall that hisses
Like a leaf in the air
When the brown boughs are bare.
The music that scatters
From love-litten eyes;
The music that flatters
In words and low sighs,
In laughter that dies:
"Come hither, come hither,
In the million-eyed night,
Ere the moon-flowers wither
And the harvester white,
Morning reaps them with light.
"Come hither, where singing
Is pleasant as tears,
Or dead kisses, clinging
To the murdering years,
In memory's ears.
"Come hither where kisses
Are waiting for you,
For lips and long tresses,
And of her death the might;
They who had tears and sighs
For every bud that dies
While the dew on it lies;
They who had utterance for
Each warm, rose-hearted star
That stammers from afar;
The demon of vast seas,
The lips of lyric trees,
Lays of sonorous bees;
The fragrance-fays that dower
Each wildwood bosk and bower
With its faint musk of flower;
Of Time the feverish flight;
Earth, man, and, last, man's right
To thee, O Infinite!
FAIRIES
On the tremulous coppice,
From her plenteous hair,
Large golden-rayed poppies
Of moon-litten air
The Night hath flung there.
In the fern-favored hollow
The fire-flies fleet
Uncertainly follow
Pale phantoms of heat,
Druid shadows that meet.
Hidden flowers are fragrant;
The night hazes furl
O'er the solitudes vagrant
In purple and pearl,
Sway-swinging and curl.
From moss-cushioned valley
Where the red sunlight fails,
Rocks where musically
The hollow spring wails,
And the limber fern trails,
With a ripple and twinkle
Of luminous arms,
Of voices that tinkle,
And feet that are storms
Of chaste, naked charms,
Like echoes that revel
On hills, where the brier
Vaults roofs of dishevel
And green, greedy fire,
They come as a choir.
At the root of the mountain
Where the dim forest lies,
By the spar-spouting fountain
Where the low lily dies,
With their star-stinging eyes.
They gather sweet singing
In voices that seem
Faint ringing and clinging
In dreams that we dream,
In visions that gleam.
Sweet lisping of kisses,
Dry rustle of hair;
A footfall that hisses
Like a leaf in the air
When the brown boughs are bare.
The music that scatters
From love-litten eyes;
The music that flatters
In words and low sighs,
In laughter that dies:
"Come hither, come hither,
In the million-eyed night,
Ere the moon-flowers wither
And the harvester white,
Morning reaps them with light.
"Come hither, where singing
Is pleasant as tears,
Or dead kisses, clinging
To the murdering years,
In memory's ears.
"Come hither where kisses
Are waiting for you,
For lips and long tresses,
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