THE hollow dash of waves! -- the ceaseless roar! -- Silence, ye billows! -- vex my soul no more. There's a spring in the woods by my sunny home, Afar from the dark seas's tossing foam; Oh! the fall of that fountain is sweet to hear, As a song from the shore to the sailor's ear! Through the feathery fern and the olive boughs, And the gleam on its path as it steals away Into deeper shades from the sultry day, And the large water-lilies that o'er its bed Their pearly leaves to the soft light spread, They haunt me! I dream of that bright spring's flow, I thirst for its rills like a wounded roe! Be still, thou sea-bird, with thy clanging cry, My spirit sickens as thy wing sweeps by. Know ye my home, with the lulling sound Of leaves from the lime and the chestnut round? Know ye it, brethren! where bowered it lies Under the purple of southern skies? With the streamy gold of the sun that shines In through the cloud of its clustering vines, And the summer breath of the myrtle flowers, Borne from the mountain in dewy hours, And the fire-fly's glance through the darkening shades, Like shooting stars in the forest glades, And the scent of the citron at eve's dim fall -- Speak! have ye known, have ye felt them all? The heavy rolling surge! the rocking mast! -- Hush! give my dream's deep music way, thou blast! Oh, the glad sounds of the joyous earth! The notes of the singing cicala's mirth, The murmurs that live in the mountain pines, The sighing of reeds as the day declines, The wings flitting home through the crimson glow That steeps the wood when the sun is low, The voice of the night-bird that sends a thrill To the heart of the leaves when the winds are still -- I hear them! -- around me they rise, they swell, They call back my spirit with Hope to dwell -- They come with a breath from the fresh spring-time, And waken my youth in its hour of prime. The white foam dashes high -- away, away! Shroud my green land no more, thou blinding spray! It is there! -- down the mountain I see the sweep Of the chestnut forests, the rich and deep, With the burden and glory of flowers they bear Floating upborne on the blue summer air, And the light pouring through them in tender gleams, And the flashing forth of a thousand streams! Hold me not, brethren! I go, I go To the hills of my youth, where the myrtles blow, To the depths of the woods, where the shadows rest, Massy and still, on the greensward's breast, To the rocks that resound with the water's play -- I hear the sweet laugh of my fount -- give way! Give way! -- the booming surge, the tempest's roar, The sea-bird's wail shall vex my soul no more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WORD OF AN ENGINEER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO THE FAIR CLARINDA, WHO MADE LOVE TO ME by APHRA BEHN SAINT BRANDAN by MATTHEW ARNOLD TO CHILDREN: 5. DAME HOLIDAY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A ROOF IS GOOD by MARY CRUMP BOULDIN THE WILD DOVES by GEORGES BOUTELLEAU |