Images de page
PDF
ePub

"Talis mihi videtur, rex, vita hominum

quale cum te residente a coenam

accenso foco in media calido effecto

coenaculo . . . . . . adveniens unus passerum
domum citissime pervolaverit.
de hieme in hiemem regrediens.'

mox

Bede. lib. II. 13.

By DANIEL J. DONAHOE of Middletown

THE

SPARROW'S

PAKE the Saxon of old

When of the Christ he was told, "Out of the Wintry night

Into the warmth and the light;

Out of the light again

Into the night and the rain;
Thus, as the sparrow flies,

Man is born and dies.

Naught he knows of the whence,
Naught he knows of the hence;

Only from dark to dark

Life's but a moment's spark;
Only from death to death,

Life's but a fleeting breath."

Thus the Saxon of old

When of the Christ he was told.

Ah! 'twas a bitter faith,
This that spake but of death.
Well did the king in his hall
Banish the wormwood and gall,
And take from Christ's dear hand
A sweeter faith for his land.

Better it were to say
Life is a spendid day;
A blessing, a trust, a hope,
A star in the azure cope;

A hastening and a quest;
A toiling without rest;
A victory fought and won
From rise to set of sun;
A rose with odors rare
Enjoying the noon-tide air;
The passing of a soul

From God to God, her goal;

A spark of love from His breast,

Flying from east to west;

A wave from His infinite sea

Back to infinity.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

UT of an unremembered land, ashore

Beside an infinite sea that gleamed all strange
And golden 'neath a newly-risen sun,

I found myself awake; and rising up
I wandered from the sounding of the sea,
Across the pleasant fields, that led along
Fair hill-sides and broad valleys, far away.

Under my feet the grass was lush and green,
All sprinkled o'er with diamonds of the morn;
The clover-beds were murmurous of bees,

And birds in bush and tree were loud in songs
That mingled with the odors from the flowers;
Then through my soul, delirious of joy,
From these wild beauties of the tender morn,
There throbbed a passionate pulse of melody;
And like the glad birds, lifting up my voice,
I sang a song whose rhythmic beating flowed
In measured motion with my brain and soul,
Till all the fields, in golden cadences,

Seemed turned to music, mild with mellow dreams.

While walking through the fields thus full of joy,
I saw a white bird spring from a low bush,
And singing in a voice that seemed my own,
He flitted on before me through the fields.
A sudden passion seized my heart to take
The singer, and I followed, followed far,
Repeating the sweet strain that seemed my own,
And listening to the music full of joy.

Ere long the snow-white bird approached a cot
That shyly nestled in a shadowy grove

Under white blossoms sweet to scent and sight.
Beside the cottage door a silver brook
Was flowing with a murmur wondrous mild,
Between the flowery banks that hemmed its way
O'er dimpling shallows, shimmering to the sun.
The bird, alighting on the cottage sill,
Sent forth sweet trills of music; and I came,
Following the singing wonder. Soon the door
Was opened, and a maiden, coming forth,
Took the white warbler in a hand as white,
And kissed him as he sang.
How fair that maid,

And fairer than the moon her tender face;
Robed all in white, a rosary of pearls

Hung from her silken cincture; and she stood
Where sweet white roses clustered round the cot,
And looked on me with eyes all tenderness;
While in a voice of music thus she spake;
"Come, sit among the flowers and hear the bird;
Come, hear him sing his song of innocence;
My gentle warbler, my angelic bird

That sings in my own voice and speaks my words.
I listened full of rapture to the words;

For while she spake her voice appeared to me
Mine own voice and the music of the bird.

Then I sat down among the roses white,
And gave my heart unto the warbling bird;
While sweet the maiden spake to me, and seemed,
In speaking one long undertone of song:-

'Tis well for thee to rest among these flowers And fill thy soul with dreams of innocence;

Here is the primal Eden, unattaint

With world-love and world-woe. Who dwells with me
Has hope, and knows the peace that comes from God.
I am the voice of God. So far as sings

Yon silver brook, my voice sings; and so far
'As soars and sings this warbler, there sing I.
Guide thou thy will that whatsoe'er thou do
Thou stray not farther than these songs shall go;
For once thine ear shall lose them, nevermore
Return is thine to these dear bowers of ease."

While yet she spake, I heard a distant cry
Far down the valley where the brooklet sang;
And looking I beheld a throng of youths
Converging from all points, in mad pursuit,
With cry and cheering, of a great gray fox,

That swiftly clomb a round hill crowned with oaks.
The shouting and the cheering filled my heart

With madness; and with winged feet I sped
To join the chase.

Still, running, I could hear
The virgin's warning ringing in mine ear:-
"Once lose my voice, return is never thine,"
And her low song came softly from afar
While murmured at my feet the silver brook,
Mirrored within whose waters I beheld
My face reflected, like a ray of morn.

Rise

to

Set
of
Sun

« PrécédentContinuer »