Poems . silver white the river gleams. As if Diana in her dreams, Had dropt her silver bowUpon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this,She woke Endj-mion with a kiss, When, sleeping in the groveHe dreamed not of her love. Like Dians kiss, unasked, unsought,Love gives itself, but is not bought;Nor voice, nor sound betraysIts deep, impassioned gaze. It comes,—the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity,—In silence and aloneTo seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep,Are Lifes oblivion, the souls sleep,And kisses the closed eyesOf him, who slumbering lies. O,
Poems . silver white the river gleams. As if Diana in her dreams, Had dropt her silver bowUpon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this,She woke Endj-mion with a kiss, When, sleeping in the groveHe dreamed not of her love. Like Dians kiss, unasked, unsought,Love gives itself, but is not bought;Nor voice, nor sound betraysIts deep, impassioned gaze. It comes,—the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity,—In silence and aloneTo seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep,Are Lifes oblivion, the souls sleep,And kisses the closed eyesOf him, who slumbering lies. O, weary hearts ! O, slumbering eyes ! (), drooping souls, whose destinies Arc fraught with fear and pain,Yc shall be loved a^ain! 356 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. No one is so accursed by fate,No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds unto his own. Responds,-—as if with unseen wings,An angel touched its quivering strings;And whispers, in its song,Where hast thou stayed so long ? ^. THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR. FHOM TFIE GERMAN OF PFJZKR. A youth, light-hearted and content,I wander through the world; Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent,And straight again is furled. Yet oft I dream, that once a wifeClose in my heart was locked, And in the sweet repose of lifeA blessed child I rocked. I wake ! Away that dream,—away ! Too long did it remain!So long, that both by night and day It ever comes again. The end lies ever in my thought; To a grave so cold and deepThe mother beautiful was brought; Then dropt the child asleep. But now the dream is wholly oer, I bathe mine eyes and see;And wander through the world once more, A youth so light and free. 258 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Two locks,—and they are wondrous fair Left me that vision mild;The brown is from the mothers hair, The blond is from the child. And when I see that lock of gold,Pale grows the evening-red; And when the dark lock I behold,I wish that I were dead. IT IS NOT ALWAYS MAY. XO HAY lAJAROS EN LOS NIDOS DE A
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