acres;
Hillsides like breakers
Over me flow.

Wildly alive
I hail the green shimmer,
Fresh as a swimmer
After the dive.

Like banners unfurled
The skies dip and flourish—
The keen breezes nourish,
While the bright world

Is a ribbon unrolled
With a border of grasses;
And tansies are masses
And splotches of gold.

Still I whirl on—
Startled, a sparrow
Darts from the yarrow,
Flash—and is gone...

Faster the gleams
Die as they dazzle—
And roadsides of basil
Turn to pink streams.

Sharp as a knife
Is each perfume and color.
To feel nothing duller—
God, that were Life!

MIDNIGHT—BY THE OPEN WINDOW

How rapt the sleeping stillness of the night—
Incomparably close and vast... One might
Hear the tense silence in the little street
Reaching to heaven, where it swells and breaks
Into moon-music and star-song that makes
My senses bend and sway, as waving wheat
Trembles before the wind's majestic feet;
Trembles with happy fear and numb delight.

How sharp the silence... like a sword to smite
Brittle security and iron aches;
A soundless and imperative blast that wakes
Undreamed of powers, terrible and sweet...
While God comes down, roused to the jubilant fight;
Roused from the sleepy comfort of His seat.

THE WINE OF NIGHT

Come, drink the mystic wine of Night,
Brimming with silence and the stars,
While earth, bathed in this holy light,
Is seen without its scars.
Drink in the daring and the dews,
The calm winds and the restless gleam—
This is the draught that Beauty brews;
Drink—it is the Dream.

Drink, oh my soul, and do not yield—
These solitudes, this wild-rose air,
Shall strengthen thee, shall be thy shield,
Against a world's despair.
Oh, quaff this stirrup-cup of stars,
Trembling with hope and high desire—
Then back into the hopeless wars
With faith and fire!

INTERLUDES

To My Wife

INVOCATION

Listen, my lute, I would turn from your militant measures.
Well have you answered the touch of intransigent fingers;
Wildly your strings have vibrated—but have you forgotten
How to make love-songs?

Lute, you are hot to the hand; you are tense and exultant.
Cease crying out—let me rest from the din and the battle.
Life is not only a summoning shout and a struggle,
A blow and a silence.

Is there not vigorous peace after vigorous onslaught?
Beauty's a challenge as fierce and as stirring as conflict...
Look—how she runs through the tremulous twilight to meet me—
Do you remember?

See—it is night and she turns to my arms of a sudden;
Soft as a mother and wild with the fires of April—
Bashful and bold, with her passionate hair all about her;
Lovely and lavish.

Lute, it was she who awoke and impelled us to singing—
Ah, those first lyrics, impulsive and feeble and earnest—
She who aroused us and soothed us—our passion, our pillow—
Dare you forget her!

Only remember 'tis she keeps me rested and restless;
Only remember my heart, like a fate in strong breezes.
Leaps at the thought of her voice and her slow, searching kisses,
Stabbing and healing.

"FEUERZAUBER"

I never knew the earth had so much gold—
The fields run over with it, and this hill
Hoary and old,
Is young with buoyant blooms that flame and thrill.

Such golden fires, such yellows—lo, how good
This spendthrift world, and what a lavish God—
This fringe of wood,
Blazing with buttercup and goldenrod.

You too, beloved, are changed. Again I see
Your face grow mystical, as on that night
You turned to me,
And all the trembling world—and you—were white.

Aye, you are touched; your singing lips grow dumb;
The fields absorb you, color you entire...
And you become
A goddess standing in a world of fire!

SUNDAY NIGHT

Tossing, throughout this tense and nervous night
Sleepless I drowse. My soul, for lack of rest,
Sinks like a bird, that after flight on flight
Misses the shelter of its well-loved nest.
So would I gain your side and seek, my love,
The comfortable heaven of your breast.

Once more to lie beside the window seat,
And see, far off, the ribboned river-lights,
The yellow gas-lamps in the dusky street—
And pressing close, from proud and alien heights,
The noble skies and the inviolate stars
Surround and bless us these autumnal nights.

No words—the silence and your breathless name
Are all that's in the world; and faint and fair
The distant church-bells solemnly proclaim
To all the meek and sabbath-scented air...
I take you in my arms ... and I awake
Groping, with restless anger, for a prayer.

AT KENNEBUNKPORT

We sat together at the ocean's edge,
The night was mystical and warm.
From every rambling roadside hedge
Wild roses followed us with a swarm
Of scents; the pines and every odorous tree
Triumphed and rose above the languid sea.
The stars were dim—
The world was hushed, as though before a shrine...
We sat together at the ocean's rim,
Your hand in mine.

Then came the moon—
A calm, benignant moon,
Like some indulgent mother that has smiled
On every wayward child.
The breathing stillness, like a wordless croon,
Made the soft heart of heaven doubly mild;
And the salt air mingled with the air of June...

The vast and intimate Silence—and your lips...

Faintly we saw the lanterns of three ships,