. The poetical works of Edmund Clarence Stedman. ad,Sailing from the gorgeous West,Came the pioneers, abreast,2 25 26 EARLY POEMS. Of a wondrous argosy, —The Armada of the sky !Far along I saw them sail,Wafted by an upper gale ;Saw them, on their lustrous route,Fling a thousand banners out:Yellow, violet, crimson, blue,Orange, sapphire, — every hueThat the gates of Heaven put on,To the sainted eyes of John,In that hallowed Patmos isleTheir skyey pennons wore ; and whileI drank the glory of the sightSunset faded into night. Then diverging, far and wide,To the dim horizons side,Silently and swif
. The poetical works of Edmund Clarence Stedman. ad,Sailing from the gorgeous West,Came the pioneers, abreast,2 25 26 EARLY POEMS. Of a wondrous argosy, —The Armada of the sky !Far along I saw them sail,Wafted by an upper gale ;Saw them, on their lustrous route,Fling a thousand banners out:Yellow, violet, crimson, blue,Orange, sapphire, — every hueThat the gates of Heaven put on,To the sainted eyes of John,In that hallowed Patmos isleTheir skyey pennons wore ; and whileI drank the glory of the sightSunset faded into night. Then diverging, far and wide,To the dim horizons side,Silently and swiftly there,Every galleon of the air,Manned by some celestial crew,Out its precious cargo threw,And the gentle summer rainCooled the fevered Earth again. Through the night I heard it fallTenderly and musical;And this morning not a sigh Of wind uplifts the briony leaves,But the ashen-tinted sky Still for earthly turmoil grieves,While the melody of the rain,Dropping on the window-pane,On the lilac and the rose,Round us all its pleasance throws,. SUMMER RAIN. Till our souls are yielded whollyTo its constant melancholy,And, like the burden of its song,Passionate moments glide along. Pinks and hyacinths perfumeAll our garden-fronted room ;Hither, close beside me, Love !Do not whisper, do not we two will softly stay,Side by side, the livelong thy head upon my breast:Ever shall it give thee rest,Ever would I gaze to meetEyes of thine up-glancing, Sweet!What enchanted dreams are ours !While the murmur of the showersDropping on the tranquil ground,Dropping on the leaves and flowers,Wraps our yearning souls aroundIn the drapery of its sound. Still the plenteous streamlets fall:Here two hearts are all in allTo each other ; and they beatWith no evanescent heat,But softly, steadily, hour by hour,With the calm, melodious powerOf the gentle summer rain,That in Heaven so long hath lain,And from out that shoreless seaPours its blessings tenderly. Freer yet its currents swel
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