THE NORNS WATERING YGGDRASILL (for a picture) WITHIN the unchanging twilight Yggdrasill the populous Ash-tree, Whose leaves embroider heaven, Fills all the gray air with music — To Gods and to men sweet sounds, But speech to the fine-ear'd maidens Who evermore come and go. That way to their doomstead thrones As they pass beneath the shade ; Even Odin, the strong All-father, Bends to the beautiful maidens Who cease not to come and go. The tempest crosses the high boughs, Who evermore come and go. And men far away, in the night-hours To the north-wind listening, hear; They hear the howl of the were-wolf, And know he hath felt the sting Of the eyes of the potent maidens Who sleeplessly come and go. They hear on the wings of the north-wind A sound as of three that sing; And the skald, in the blae mist wandering Heard the very words of the o'ersong But alas for the ears of mortals Chance-hearing that fate-laden song! The bones of the skald lie there still : For the speech of the leaves of the Tree Is the song of the three Queen-maidens Who evermore come and go. Be patient, O be patient! go and watch the wheat-ears grow, So imperceptibly that ye can mark nor change nor throe: Day after day, day after day till the ear is fully grown; And then again day after day, till the ripen'd field is brown. Be patient, O be patient! though yet our hopes are green, The harvest-field of Freedom shall be crown'd with the sunny sheen. Be ripening, be ripening! mature your silent way Till the whole broad land is tongued with fire on Freedom's harvest day. OUR CAUSE1 So, Freedom, thy great quarrel may we serve, With truest zeal that, sensitive of blame, And though detraction's flood we proudly breast, Or, weakening, sink in that unfathom'd sea, My life be branded and my name be flung Of falsehood echo truth, and own thee fair. HEART AND WILL1 OUR England's heart is sound as oak ; Our England's heart is yet as sound, Shall find us fearless still. And though our Vane be in his tomb, 1 From his early Poems of Freedom. LOVE AND YOUTH Two winged genii in the air As swift and careless as the wind, But follow'd soon his fellow's track. TOO LATE YES! thou art fair, and I had lov'd Though I may watch thy opening bloom, Yet, had I shar'd thy course of years, Vain, vain regret! Another day Will kiss the buds of younger flowers, But ne'er will evening turn away From love untimelier than ours. WEEP NOT! SIGH NOT! WEEP not! tears must vainly fall, As vain heart-throbs Since thou Love hast slain. Sigh not! As a passed wind Nor cheeks grown pale In lonely years. Love comes not again. |