Blooms of the Berry

Автор

Madison Cawein

Жанр

Зарубежная классика

Год написания книги

2017

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Or the cowslip on the bent
Lift her head,
Or the glow-worm's lamp be spent,
Whitely dead:
'Neath lank ferns I laughing lie,
'Neath the ferns full warily
Hid away,
Where the drowsy musk-rose blows
And a fussy runnel flows,
Sleeping with the Faëry
Under leafy canopy
All the holyday.

THE NIXES' SONG

Vague, vague 'neath darkling waves,
With emerald-curving caves
For the arched skies,
Red-walled with dark dull gold
The Nixes' city old
Deep-glimmering lies.
And thro' the long green nights the spangling spars
Twinkle like milky stars.

Where the wind-ripple plays
On tufts of dipping sprays
Sparkling we rock;
With blooming fingers bare
Comb down our golden hair
In many a lock;
While, poured o'er naked ease of cool, moist limbs,
An amber glamour swims.

Or in the middle night
When cold damp fire-flies light
Pale flitting brands
Down all the woodland aisles,
With swift mysterious smiles
Link we white hands,
And where the moonlight haunts the drowsy lake
Bask in its silver wake.

Come join, come join our dance
While the warm starbeams glance,
And the kind moon
Spills all her flowers of light
At the dark feet of Night,
And soon, full soon,
Thou'lt sleep in shadowy halls where dim and cold
Our city's walled with gold.

"THE FAIRY RADE."

I

Ai me! why stood I on the bent
When Summer wept o'er dying June!
I saw the Fairy Folk ride faint
Aneath the moon.

II

The haw-trees hedged the russet lea
Where cuckoo-buds waxed rich with gold;
The wealthy corn rose yellowly
Endlong the wold.

III

Betwixt the haw-trees and the mead
"The Fairy Rade" came glimmering on;
A creamy cavalcade did speed
O'er the green lawn.

IV

The night was ringing with their reins;
Loud laughed they till the cricket hushed;
The whistles on their coursers' manes
Shrill music gushed.

V

The whistles tagged their horses' manes
All crystal clear; on these a wind
Forever played, and waked the plains
Before, behind.

VI

These flute-notes and the Fairy song
Took the dim holts with many a qualm,
And eke their silver bridles rung
A far-off psalm.

VII

All rid upon pale ouphen steeds
With flying tails, uncouthly seen;

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