قراءة كتاب Poems
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
sweeping, circling flight
Like angels bathing in celestial light.
See, now with one great shaft of molten gold,
No longer vaporous haze around him rolled,
The King of Day mounts the ethereal height,
Scattering the last dim streamers of the night.
Bow down, ye Persians, on your altared hills;
Worship the Sun-god who gives life, and fills
Your horn with plenteous blessings from on high.
Wake! Wake! before the dawning sunbeams die!
Fling incense on your temple's dying flame;
Sing chants and chorals in his mighty name,
For as a weary traveler from afar,
Or as a sailor on the harbor bar
After long absence spies his native town,
So, with benignant brilliance smiles he down;
Or, like a good king ruling o'er his land,
He sprinkles blessings with a bounteous hand.
And thou, O my beloved, wake! arise!
Has not the sun illumined night's dull skies?
Come, Phœbus' breath has tinged the summer morn.
Come, see the light shafts waver 'mong the corn.
Come, see the early lily's opening bloom.
Come, see the wavering light expel the gloom
From yon dark vale still sunk in misty night.
Oh, watch the circling skylark's heavenward flight,
As, wrapped in hazy waves of shimmering light,
In one grand Jubilate to the sun,
He floods the sky with song of day begun.
But golden morn is never truly fair
Unless with day, thou com'st to weave my hair
With perfumed flowers gathered in the dell
Where sylphs sing sweetly 'bout the bubbling well.
Oh, fill my cup of pleasure with new wine
Which sparkles only where thy soft eyes shine!
O my beloved, haste thee to arise
Before the light has scorched the noonday skies!
The fleeting hours haste the falling sun;
And soon the hour-glass of life is run.
August 5 & 6, 1911.
THE SONG OF LORENZO
THE SONG OF WO HOU
From the Second Act of Kwang Hsu
| List, O list to the song I sing To the varying note of the sighing breeze Blowing in cool, refreshing waves From the endless realm of the seven seas: Waste not life in pursuit of war, Holding the nations for one short day, For the death of the king destroys the realm Which vanishes like the great Mongol's sway. Nor hoard up silver in thy vaults, For the silver once spent, the pleasure is passed, Or before it is spent, we will mourn thy death: In the world, neither conquest nor silver last. Seek, O seek but an hour's joy; Pleasure and love though they may not endure Will soothe life's sorrow and bitterness— The present alone of all time is sure! Live in the circle of mine arms; Live in the light of the love in mine eye; Live in the music of my song; And, as the music of my song—die! October 22, 1911. |
THE AURORA
| Night in purple fringed with the faintest crimson Conquered the slowly paling glow of sunset; Softly the western light expired; and yet Came there no stars forth— O'er the tow'ring cliffs and the vales and waters, O'er the whisp'ring woodland of swaying hemlocks, O'er the streamlets trickling down on the crag-rocks, Came there no moon forth. Rose in distance, a dim and fearful spectre; Rose, accompanied by the forest's singing, An omen of evil, certainty bringing Of the divine wroth— Far from northern forests descends some army; Far in the heavens, their fires are reflected; Waver the lights in an archway collected, Sign of divine wroth— Shines the arch in a flick'ring wavy brilliance; Lighting earth from its quivering span of silver; Shines the Aurora soft o'er lake and river, Shines from the far north. December 8, 1911. |
THE WILL O' THE WISP
WHEN ON THE SHORE GRATES MY BARGE'S KEEL
| Weariness, weariness, unending weariness, cease— Break thou the heart thou canst not heal! Bitterness, bitterness, undying bitterness, peace— On shore bring to rest my barge's keel, On that shadowy shore, we seek at life's release; For thy soul, belovèd, bears Death's seal. Restlessness, restlessness, wandering restlessness haunts me; |