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VIOLET’S SONG

I.

Come down from thy dazzling sphere,
Bird of the gushing song!
Come down where the young leaves whisper low,
While the breeze steals in with a murmurous flow,
And the tender branches wave to and fro
In the soft air all day long!

I have watched thy daring wing
Cleaving the sun-bright air,
Where the snowy cloud is asleep in light,
Or dreamily floating in robes of white,
While thy soul gushed forth in its song’s free might,
Till my spirit is dim with care.

For oh, I have loved thee well,
Thou of the soaring wing!–
And I fear lest the angels that sit on high,
In the calm, still depths of the upper sky,
Will love with a tenderer love than I,
As they stoop to hear thee sing

Come down from the heights, my bird,
And warble thy lays to me!
I shall pine and droop in my grassy nook
For the passionate song that my spirit shook,
And the low, sad voice of the grieving brook
Will murmur all night of thee!

I shall sit alone–alone,
While the noontide hour steals by;
And mournful the woodland’s music will be,–
Mournful the blue, calm heavens to me,–
Mournful the glory on earth and sea,–
And mournful the sunset sky!

O voice of exulting song!–
O bright, unwavering eye!–
O free wing soaring in fetterless flight
Up to the Fountain of quenchless Light!–
O, Earth that darken’st in sudden night,
I shudder, and faint, and die!

SKY-LARK’S SONG

II.

From the dewy grass upspringing–
From my wing the pearl-drops flinging–
Upward, with exultant singing,
Let me–let me fly!
Sun, with gemmed and flashing banners,
List my rapturous hosannas–
As I mount, on circling wing,
Higher, o’er the fragrant meadow,–
O’er the forest’s broken shadow,–
O’er the hill-tops green and golden,–
Where the ivied ruins olden
Echo out with sudden gladness
As I break their brooding sadness
With the lays I sing!

Joy, joy!–I have caught the song
Of the angels that sit above!–
And warble in musical chorus alway
Those notes that oftentimes earthward stray
So tenderly sweet at the fall of day,
What time the rose-bud’s trembling spray
Thrills with their lays of love!–
Joy, joy!–I have caught the song
Of bright ones that sit above!–
And the far-off Earth’s a forgotten thing,
As I mount on free and fetterless wing,
Up to the sun-fields where they sing,
Drawn on by their soul of love!

Hush! is it a voice of Earth–
Of the far-away Earth, I hear?
Breathing of the fragrant meadow,–
Of the drooping willow’s shadow,–
Of the breezes’ gentle sighing,–
Of the brooklet’s low replying,–
Of the blue, o’er-arching heaven,–
Of the violet-curtained even,–
Of the tender, dreamy starlight,–
Of the hushed, majestic midnight?–
And through all that murmur so sad and low,
Meanings of passionate anguish flow,
Till I feel a weight on my glancing wing
Bearing me earthward while yet I sing,
With its burden of heavy woe.

VIOLET’S SONG

III.

Bird, I am drooping in tears alone,
Pressing my cheek ‘gainst the cold, grey stone,
And looking upward with aching eye,
Through the tender depths of the morning sky;–
But thy form fades out in that glorious sea
That lieth so calmly ‘twixt thee and me;
A speck–it is lost in the azure deep!
And I droop in the deepening gloom, and weep
My sorrowful life away!