The Poems of Sidney Lanier Part 35

____ Georgia, September, 1865.

To Wilhelmina.

A white face, drooping, on a bending neck: A tube-rose that with heavy petal curves Her stem: a foam-bell on a wave that swerves Back from the undulating vessel's deck.

From out the whitest cloud of summer steals The wildest lightning: from this face of thine Thy soul, a fire-of-heaven, warm and fine, In marvellous flashes its fair self reveals.

As when one gazes from the summer sea On some far gossamer cloud, with straining eye, Fearing to see it vanish in the sky, So, floating, wandering Cloud-Soul, I watch thee.

____ Montgomery, Alabama, 1866.

Wedding-Hymn.

Thou G.o.d, whose high, eternal Love Is the only blue sky of our life, Clear all the Heaven that bends above The life-road of this man and wife.

May these two lives be but one note In the world's strange-sounding harmony, Whose sacred music e'er shall float Through every discord up to Thee.

As when from separate stars two beams Unite to form one tender ray: As when two sweet but shadowy dreams Explain each other in the day:

So may these two dear hearts one light Emit, and each interpret each.

Let an angel come and dwell to-night In this dear double-heart, and teach!

____ Macon, Georgia, September, 1865.

In the Foam.

Life swelleth in a whitening wave, And dasheth thee and me apart.

I sweep out seaward: -- be thou brave.

And reach the sh.o.r.e, Sweetheart.

Beat back the backward-thrusting sea.

Thy weak white arm his blows may thwart, Christ buffet the wild surge for thee Till thou'rt ash.o.r.e, Sweetheart.

Ah, now thy face grows dim apace, And seems of yon white foam a part.

Canst hear me through the water-ba.s.s, Cry: "To the Sh.o.r.e, Sweetheart?"

Now Christ thee soothe upon the Sh.o.r.e, My lissome-armed sea-Britomart.

I sweep out seaward, never more To find the Sh.o.r.e, Sweetheart.

____ Prattville, Alabama, December, 1867.

Barnacles.

My soul is sailing through the sea, But the Past is heavy and hindereth me.

The Past hath crusted c.u.mbrous sh.e.l.ls That hold the flesh of cold sea-mells About my soul.

The huge waves wash, the high waves roll, Each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole And hindereth me from sailing!

Old Past let go, and drop i' the sea Till fathomless waters cover thee!

For I am living but thou art dead; Thou drawest back, I strive ahead The Day to find.

Thy sh.e.l.ls unbind! Night comes behind, I needs must hurry with the wind And trim me best for sailing.

____ Macon, Georgia, 1867.

Night.

Fair is the wedded reign of Night and Day.

Each rules a half of earth with different sway, Exchanging kingdoms, East and West, alway.

Like the round pearl that Egypt drunk in wine, The sun half sinks i' the br.i.m.m.i.n.g, rosy brine: The wild Night drinks all up: how her eyes s.h.i.+ne!

Now the swift sail of straining life is furled, And through the stillness of my soul is whirled The throbbing of the hearts of half the world.

I hear the cries that follow Birth and Death.

I hear huge Pestilence draw his vaporous breath: "Beware, prepare, or else ye die," he saith.

I hear a haggard student turn and sigh: I hear men begging Heaven to let them die: And, drowning all, a wild-eyed woman's cry.

So Night takes toll of Wisdom as of Sin.

The student's and the drunkard's cheek is thin: But flesh is not the prize we strive to win.

Now airy swarms of fluttering dreams descend On souls, like birds on trees, and have no end.

O G.o.d, from vulture-dreams my soul defend!