. Fragments and flashes of thought . ift—till then Im gone:Away to hoar Orions gorgeous giant square—Where, oer his three belt-stars Ill draw three bars—Then touch them with my magic Spirit fair,Till from them universal sounds will spreadTo thrill the living earthly—please the God-blessed dead!Till all of earth, at such new birthWithin the starry night, will take delightTo listen to those lays—and, wondring, gazeFor many moons at hoar Orions square—For from it swell, like super-worldly spell,Such songs that virbrate unknown lore—Great truths, to man untaught before—And mysteries so fair, sough
. Fragments and flashes of thought . ift—till then Im gone:Away to hoar Orions gorgeous giant square—Where, oer his three belt-stars Ill draw three bars—Then touch them with my magic Spirit fair,Till from them universal sounds will spreadTo thrill the living earthly—please the God-blessed dead!Till all of earth, at such new birthWithin the starry night, will take delightTo listen to those lays—and, wondring, gazeFor many moons at hoar Orions square—For from it swell, like super-worldly spell,Such songs that virbrate unknown lore—Great truths, to man untaught before—And mysteries so fair, sought in the midnight when Im fled—let it be said—One youth who sang of love—yet loved in vain—Had flung his fissured lute—and then to love was mute—But as he met with hoar Orions set of starsHe swore to string three golden immortalbars— 214 Lost Love And touch them till they swell with universal strain—So all their sounds arouse posterity to keep their God-sent vows! (January 16, 1891.) fl tttVXB. 2i6 Poems LONGING. At evenfall—when Autumns dusk sets inI walked through wailing wolds— Alone I was—I saw young lovers walk—O, longing crept within my folds! Am I alway alone—no love to fondle— No maid is there for me!I see those lovers coo—and laugh, and chat— But I am destitute of glee! The chill of eve at Autumns death of day I love as though a maid—But how far more sublime—more true to man If maid to me her love had said! ,The faint rare glow of Autumns crimson sky I love so to adore—But how far more enchanting tis to gaze At maid who loves me evermore! Though Autumns weirdness hath such poweroer me Though Autumns wild-songs fly—I would I had a maid—tell her my woe— To muse with her—and love—and die ! (1883) Poems 217 THE BELL-BUOY. Toll, toll, toll—The knell of thy soul of bronze and steel—And I would that my heart could feelThe palpitations of that toll! O, well for the weary mariner at night That thy toll
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