The morns are meeker than they were - The nuts are getting brown - The berry's cheek is plumper - The Rose is out of town. The Maple wears a gayer scarf - The field a scarlet gown - Lest I should be old fashioned I'll put a trinket on.
I never told the buried gold Upon the hill - that lies - I saw the sun - his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize. He stood as near As stood you here - A pace had been between - Did but a snake bisect the brake My life had forfeit been.
That was a wondrous booty - I hope 'twas honest gained. Those were the fairest ingots That ever kissed the spade!
Whether to keep the secret - Whether to reveal - Whether as I ponder "Kidd" will sudden sail -
Could a shrewd advise me We might e'en divide - Should a shrewd betray me - Atropos decide!
My Wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know it's dripping feet Go round and round. My foot is on the Tide! An unfrequented road - Yet have all roads A clearing at the end -
Some have resigned the Loom - Some in the busy tomb Find quaint employ -
Some with new - stately feet - Pass royal thro' the gate - Flinging the problem back At you and I!
Through lane it lay - thro' bramble - Through clearing and thro' wood - Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road. The wolf came peering curious - The Owl looked puzzled down - The serpent's satin figure Glid stealthily along,
The tempests touched our garments - The lightning's poinards gleamed - Fierce from the Crag above us The hungry Vulture screamed -
The Satyrs fingers beckoned - The Valley murmured "Come" - These were the mates - This was the road These Children fluttered home.
There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man - It hurls it's barbed syllables And is mute again - But where it fell The saved will tell On patriotic day, Some epauletted Brother Gave his breath away. Wherever runs the breathless sun - Wherever roams the day, There is it's noiseless onset - There is it's victory! Behold the keenest marksman! The most accomplished shot! Time's sublimest target Is a soul "forgot"!
The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go - The Crocus - till she rises The Vassal of the snow - The lips at Hallelujah Long years of practise bore Till bye and bye these Bargemen Walked singing on the shore. Pearls are the Diver's farthings Extorted from the sea - Pinions - the Seraph's wagon Pedestrian once - as we - Night is the morning's Canvas Larceny - legacy - Death, but our rapt attention To Immortality.
My figures fail to tell me How far the village lies - Whose peasants are the angels - Whose Cantons dot the skies - My Classics vail their faces - My faith that Dark adores - Which from it's solemn abbeys Such resurrection pours
There is a morn by men unseen - Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their seraphic May - And all day long, with dance and game, And gambol I may never name - Employ their holiday. Here to light measure, move the feet Which walk no more the village street - Nor by the wood are found - Here are the birds that sought the sun When last year's distaff idle hung And summer's brows were bound.
Ne'er saw I such a wondrous scene - Ne'er such a ring on such a green - Nor so serene array - As if the stars some summer night Should swing their cups of Chrysolite - And revel till the day -
Like thee to dance - like thee to sing - People upon the mystic green - I ask, each new May morn. I wait thy far - fantastic bells - Announcing me in other dells - Unto the different dawn!
I had a guinea golden - I lost it in the sand - And thò the sum was simple And pounds were in the land - Still, had it such a value Unto my frugal eye - That when I could not find it - I sat me down to sigh. I had a crimson Robin - Who sang full many a day But when the woods were painted - He - too - did fly away - Time brought me other Robins - Their ballads were the same - Still, for my missing Troubadour I kept the "house at hame".
I had a star in heaven - One "Pleiad" was it's name - And when I was not heeding, It wandered from the same - And thò the skies are crowded - And all the night ashine - I do not care about it - Since none of them are mine -
My story has a moral - I have a missing friend - "Pleiad" it's name -and Robin - And guinea in the sand - And when this mournful ditty Accompanied with tear - Shall meet the eye of traitor In country far from here - Grant that repentance solemn May seize upon his mind - And he no consolation Beneath the sun may find.