Still I hear the echo chanted,
Down the ages sounding sweet;
Still I hear the brooding murmur,
Softly still thy prayer repeat:
"Svala, svala honom!"
So I fancy cheer and comfort
With the whirring of thy wings;
Still I wait and bid my sorrow
Vanish when the swallow sings;
Thinking how much nearer heaven
Birds can flutter, as they will,
Than I, and so repeat the whisper
Through the ether blue and still:
"Svala, svala honom!"
THE MOON THAT SHONE IN PARADISE.
O NEW old moon! O old moon new!
Which title may I give to you?
You were not here a month ago,
Yet here ashine to-night; and so
Conflicting statements both are true.
To-night the floods of still white rain
Come to me through the window-pane,
Sodden with old-time memory
Of Earth's primeval history,
When shadows were Earth's only stain.
