Not Understood and Other Poems/A Winter Lyric

by Thomas Bracken

 

A WINTER LYRIC.

 

COME, harp of mine
      And let’s entwine
A love-wreath round thy chords so light;
        The storm-sprites rave
        O’er vault and grave.
The elements are drunk to-night;
        Behold the Lord’s
        Red flaming swords
Flash scabbardless across the clouds,
        And from the deep
        The sea-ghosts leap
Along the beach in snowy shrouds,
        Then sing with me
        A song of glee,
My soul is filled with wildest mirth:
        ’Tis just the time
        To chant and chime
The praise of our old Mother Earth

  Faithful harp, I feel thy strings
    Trembling as my fingers play,
  And the wailing wind that sings
    Through the crannies joins our lay;
  And methinks weird sprites on wings
    Hover round the house and say:
  “Death alone affection brings—
    True love lives in clay to clay.”

  Loving harp! the truth is told,
    Mother Earth is true and tried.
  In her bosom’s faithful fold
    Slumber soundly, side by side.
Peer and peasant, young and old,
    Slaves of poverty and pride.
  Ah! her heart is true as gold,
    And her love is deep and wide.

  Harp of mine! again, again
    Warm pulsations fondly stray
  O’er thy cords—whilst wind and rain
    ’Gainst the windows sing and say:
  “Woman’s heart is false and vain,
    Lovers’ vows are light as spray,
  Faithless maid and foolish swain,
    True love lives in clay to clay.”

        Then sing with me,
        Right merrily,
The praises of our Mother kind;
        Her heart is pure,
        Her love is sure,
To all our faults and follies blind.
        She gives us rest
        Upon her breast,
And these poor mortal shells of ours
        She purifies,
        And we arise
To live again in buds and flowers.
        Then sing with me
        A song of glee,
My soul is filled with wildest mirth;
        ’Tis just the time
        To chant and chime
The praise of our old Mother Earth.