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ROSE AND ROOF-TREE
ROSE AND ROOF-TREE GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP [Illustration: JESSAMINE]
Upon the enchanted ladder of his rhymes
Round after round and patiently
The poet ever upward climbs.
_DEDICATION_.
_I need give my verse no hint as to whom it sings for. The rose
knowing her own right makes servitors of the light-rays to carry her
color. So every line here shall in some sense breathe of thee and in
its very face bear record of her whom however unworthily it seeks to
serve and honor._
CONTENTS.
WINDFALLS.
ROSE AND ROOF-TREE
MUSIC OF GROWTH
A SONG LONG AGO
MELANCHOLY
CONTENTMENT
PART FIRST.
AN APRIL ARIA
THE BOBOLINK
THE SUN-SHOWER
JUNE LONGINGS
A RUNE OF THE RAIN
THE SONG-SPARROW
FAIRHAVEN BAY
CHANT FOR AUTUMN
BEFORE THE SNOW
THE GHOSTS OF GROWTH
THE LILY-POND
PART SECOND.
FIRST GLANCE
"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES"
"WHEN LOOKING DEEPLY IN THY FACE"
WITHIN A YEAR
THE SINGING WIRE
MOODS OF LOVE:
I. In Absence
II. Heart's Fountain
III. South-Wind Song
IV. The Lover's Year
V. New Worlds
VI. Wedding-Night
LOVE'S DEFEAT
MAY AND MARRIAGE
THE FISHER OF THE CAPE
SAILOR'S SONG
JESSAMINE
GRIEF'S HERO
A FACE IN THE STREET
THE BATHER
HELEN AT THE LOOM
"O WHOLESOME DEATH"
BURIAL-SONG FOR SUMNER
ARISE AMERICAN!
THE SILENT TIDE
WINDFALLS.
ROSE AND ROOF-TREE.
O wayward rose why dost thou wreathe so high
Wasting thyself in sweet-breath'd ecstasy?
"The pulses of the wind my life uplift
And through my sprays I feel the sunlight sift;
"And all my fibres in a quick consent
Entwined aspire to fill their heavenward bent.
"I feel the shaking of the far-off sea
And all things growing blend their life with me:
"When men and women on me look there glows
Within my veins a life not of the rose.
"Then let me grow until I touch the sky
And let me grow and grow until I die!"
So every year the sweet rose shooteth higher
And scales the roof upon its wings of fire
And pricks the air in lovely discontent
With thorns that question still of its intent.
But when it reached the roof-tree there it clung
Nor ever farther up its blossoms flung.
O wayward rose why hast thou ceased to climb?
Hast thou forgot the ardor of thy prime?
"O hearken!"--thus the rose-spray listening--
"With what weird music sweet these full hearts ring!
"What mazy ripples of deep eddying sound
Rise touch the roof-tree old and drift around
"Bearing aloft the burden musical
Of joys and griefs from human hearts that fall!
"Green stem and fair flush'd circle I will lay
Along the roof and listen here alway;
"For rose and tree and every leafy growth
That toward the sky unfolds with spiry blowth
"No purpose hath save this to breathe a grace
O'er men and in men's hearts to seek a place.
"Therefore O poet thou who gav'st to me
The homage of thy humble sympathy
"No longer vest thy verse in rose-leaves frail:--
Let the heart's voice loud through thy paan wail!"
* * * * *
Lo at my feet the wind of autumn throws
A hundred turbulent blossoms of the rose
Full of the voices of the sea and grove
And air and full of hidden murmured love
And warm with passion through the roof-tree sent;
Dew-drenched with tears;--all in one wild gush spent!
MUSIC OF GROWTH.
Music is in all growing things;
And underneath the silky wings
Of smallest insects there is stirred
A pulse of air that must be heard.
Earth's silence lives and throbs and sings.
If poet from the vibrant strings
Of his poor heart a measure flings
Laugh not that he no trumpet blows:
It may be that Heaven hears and knows
His language of low listenings.
A SONG LONG AGO.
Through the pauses of thy fervid singing
Fell crystal sound
That thy fingers from the keys were flinging
Lightly around:
I felt the vine-like harmonies close clinging
About my soul;
And to my eyes as fruit of their sweet bringing
The full tear stole!
MELANCHOLY.
Daughter of my nobler hope
That dying gave thee birth
Sweet Melancholy!
For memory of the dead
In her dear stead
'Bide thou with me
Sweet Melancholy!
As purple shadows to the tree
When the last sun-rays sadly slope
Athwart the bare and darkening earth
Art thou to me
Sweet Melancholy!
CONTENTMENT.
Glad hours have been when I have seen
Life's scope and each dry day's intent
United; so that I could stand
In silence covering with my hand
The circle of the universe
Balance the blessing and the curse
And trust in deeds without chagrin
Free from to-morrow and yesterday--content.
PART FIRST.
AN APRIL ARIA.
When the mornings dankly fall
With a dim forethought of rain
And the robins richly call
To their mates mercurial
And the tree-boughs creak and strain
In the wind;
When the river's rough with foam
And the new-made clearings smoke
And the clouds that go and come
Shine and darken frolicsome
And the frogs at evening croak
Undefined
Mysteries of monotone
And by melting beds of snow
Wind-flowers blossom all alone;
Then I know
That the bitter winter's dead.
Over his head
The damp sod breaks so mellow--
Its mosses tipped with points of yellow--
I cannot but be glad;
Yet this sweet mood will borrow
Something of a sweeter sorrow
To touch and turn me sad.
THE BOBOLINK.
How sweetly sang the bobolink
When thou my Love wast nigh!
His liquid music from the brink
Of some cloud-fountain seemed to sink
Built in the blue-domed sky.
How sadly sings the bobolink!
No more my Love is nigh:
Yet rise my spirit rise and drink
Once more from that cloud-fountain's brink--
Once more before I die!
THE SUN-SHOWER.
A penciled shade the sky doth sweep
And transient glooms creep in to sleep
Amid the orchard;
Fantastic breezes pull the trees
Hither and yon to vagaries
Of aspect tortured.
Then like the downcast dreamy fringe
Of eyelids when dim gates unhinge
That locked their tears
Falls on the hills a mist of rain--
So faint it seems to fade again;
Yet swiftly nears.
Now sparkles the air all steely-bright
With drops swept down in arrow-flight
Keen quivering lines.
Ceased in a breath the showery sound;
And teasingly now as I look around
Sweet sunlight shines!
JUNE LONGINGS.
Lo all about the lofty blue are blown
Light vapors white like thistle-down
That from their softened silver heaps opaque
Scatter delicate flake by flake
Upon the wide loom of the heavens weaving
Forms of fancies past believing
And with fantastic show of mute despair
As for some sweet hope hurt beyond repair
Melt in the silent voids of sunny air.
All day the cooing brooklet runs in tune:
Half sunk i' th' blue the powdery moon
Shows whitely. Hark the bobolink's note! I hear it
Far and faint as a fairy spirit!
Yet all these pass and as some blithe bird winging
Leaves a heart-ache for his singing
A frustrate passion haunts me evermore
For that which closest dwells to beauty's core.
O Love canst thou this heart of hope restore?
A RUNE OF THE RAIN.
I.
O many-toned rain!
O myriad sweet voices of the rain!
How welcome is its delicate overture
At evening when the glowing-moistur'd west
Seals all things with cool promise of night's rest!
At first it would allure
The earth to kinder mood
With dainty flattering
Of soft sweet pattering:
Faintly now you hear the tramp
Of the fine drops falling damp
On the dry sun-seasoned ground
And the thirsty leaves around.
But anon imbued
With a sudden bounding access
Of passion it relaxes
All timider persuasion
And with nor pretext nor occasion
Its wooing redoubles;
And pounds the ground and bubbles
In sputtering spray
Flinging itself in a fury
Of flashing white away;
Till the dusty road
Flings a perfume dank abroad
And the grass and the wide-hung trees
The vines the flowers in their beds
The vivid corn that to the breeze
Rustles along the garden-rows
Visibly lift their heads--
And as the shower wilder grows
Upleap with answering kisses to the rain.
Then the slow and pleasant murmur
Of its subsiding
As the pulse of the storm beats firmer
And the steady rain
Drops into a cadenced chiding.
Deep-breathing rain
The sad and ghostly noise
Wherewith thou dost complain--
Thy plaintive spiritual voice
Heard thus at close of day
Through vaults of twilight-gray--
Doth vex me with sweet pain!
And still my soul is fain
To know the secret of that yearning
Which in thine utterance I hear returning.
Hush oh hush!
Break not the dreamy rush
Of the rain:
Touch not the marring doubt
Words bring to the certainty
Of its soft refrain
But let the flying fringes flout
Their gouts against the pane
And the gurgling throat of the water-spout
Groan in the eaves amain.
The earth is wedded to the shower.
Darkness and awe gird round the bridal-hour!
II.
O many-toned rain!
It hath caught the strain
Of a wilder tune
Ere the same night's noon
When dreams and sleep forsake me
And sudden dread doth wake me
To hear the booming drums of heaven beat
The long roll to battle; when the knotted cloud
With an echoing loud
Bursts asunder
At the sudden resurrection of the thunder;
And the fountains of the air
Unsealed again sweep ruining everywhere
To wrap the world in a watery winding-sheet.
III.
O myriad sweet voices of the rain!
When the airy war doth wane
And the storm to the east hath flown
Cloaked close in the whirling wind
There's a voice still left behind
In each heavy-hearted tree
Charged with tearful memory
Of the vanished rain:
From their leafy lashes wet
Drip the dews of fresh regret
For the lover that's gone!
All else is still.
But the stars are listening;
And low o'er the wooded hill
Hangs upon listless wing
Outspread a shape of damp blue cloud
Watching like a bird of evil
That knows no mercy nor reprieval
The slow and silent death of the pallid moon.
IV.
But soon returning duly
Dawn whitens the wet hill-tops bluely.
To her vision pure and cold
The night's wild tale is told
On the glistening leaf in the mid-road pool
The garden mold turned dark and cool
And the meadow's trampled acres.
But hark how fresh the song of the winged music-makers!
For now the moanings bitter
Left by the rain make harmony
With the swallow's matin-twitter
And the robin's note like the wind's in a tree:
The infant morning breathes sweet breath
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