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La Fuite de la Lune
To outer senses there is peace,
A dreamy peace on either hand,
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.
Save for a cry that echoes shrill
From some lone bird disconsolate;
A corncrake calling to its mate;
The answer from the misty hill.
And suddenly the moon withdraws
Her sickle from the lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.
De Profundis
Oh why is heaven built so far,
Oh why is earth set so remote?
I cannot reach the nearest star
That hangs afloat.
I would not care to reach the moon,
One round monotonous of change;
Yet even she repeats her tune
Beyond my range.
I never watch the scatter'd fire
Of stars, or sun's far-trailing train,
But all my heart is one desire,
And all in vain:
For I am bound with fleshly bands,
Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope;
I strain my heart, I stretch my hands,
And catch at hope.
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Lily Moon That Trails
A calm - that of a saintly sort,
A soft hush in contrasting tracts:
All still on strands with dark intact,
And still on lit up, dormant ports -
But stray hoot (that I can't discount)
Of tardy rail without its batch;
A suitor, crying to its match
That chirps back, from a hazy mount...
Oh! Instantly, a Night Orb floats
Away from taut dawn's youthful air -
And trails on to its distant lair,
In outfit of a dainty coat.
Beseech From Somewhere Deep
Oh, Eden, yonder - cheery shore!
My home's a hidden, feeble sphere...
Hey, even Venus - leagues-galore
Away from here!
I never cherished Moon's wan face,
Her cheerless glow... And even SHE
Has essence or a holy grace
None ever see!
Oh, epic scenes escape my heed -
Where rays sidereal are beamed...
Here, deep in me, lies one wee need
(If unredeemed);
Under harsh spell of blood and bone,
Jeer, fineness are high, overhead.
Whenever lone, I clench my own
Keen wish I pled.
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