The poetical works of Bayard Taylor . sed, and now thetime was nigh When on the fond result my handmust stake Its cunning, — when the slowly-tutored eye Must lend the heart its discipline, tomake Secure the throbbing hope, to whichelate, My long ambition clung: and, with asigh, If foiled, I said, let silence conse-crate My noteless name, and hide my ruinedfate I LXES It was an autumn mom, when I ad-dressedMyself unto the work. A violet hazeSubdued the ardor of the golden days:A glassy solitude was Comos breast:Far, far away, from out the fading mazeOf mountains, blew the flickering sound of be
The poetical works of Bayard Taylor . sed, and now thetime was nigh When on the fond result my handmust stake Its cunning, — when the slowly-tutored eye Must lend the heart its discipline, tomake Secure the throbbing hope, to whichelate, My long ambition clung: and, with asigh, If foiled, I said, let silence conse-crate My noteless name, and hide my ruinedfate I LXES It was an autumn mom, when I ad-dressedMyself unto the work. A violet hazeSubdued the ardor of the golden days:A glassy solitude was Comos breast:Far, far away, from out the fading mazeOf mountains, blew the flickering sound of bells :The earth lay hushed as in a Sabbath from the air came voiceless,sweet farewells! i,xx My choicest colors, on the palette spread,Provoked the appetite: the canvas clearWooed from the easel: oer his noble headThe faint light fell: his perfect body shedA sunny whiteness on the atmos-phere, —All aspects gladsomely invited : yetAcross my heart there swept a wave of dread, —The first lines trembled which my crayon o N < < wa H HO fe. THE CHILD 219 LXXI The background, lightly sketched, revealed a wildStorm-shadowed sweep of Ammons desert hills,Whose naked porphyry no dew-fed rillsTouched with descending green, but rent and piledAs thunder-split: behind them, glim-mering falling sky disclosed a lurid bar:In front, a rocky platform, where, a starOf lonely life, I meant his form should glow. LXXII The God-selected child, there shouldhe stand. Alone and rapt, as from the worldwithdrawn To seek, amid the desolated land. His Fathers counsel: in one tenderhand A cross of reed, to lightly rest upon. The other hand a scrolled phylac-tery Should, hanging, hold, — as it theseed might be Wherefrom the living Gospel shallexpand. Lxxin A simple theme: why, therefore, should my faithIn mine own skill forsake me 1 why should seemHis beauteous presence strangely like a dream, —His shining form an unsubstantial wraith ?Was it the mothers warning, thus impre
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