228
PAX IN NOVISSIMO.
Like one that passes hastily, and failed
To catch its import, yet hath One prevailed
To loose its golden clasps, and on her knee
He biddeth Nature lift me tenderly
And read thereout her Fairy tales, and tell
Where lie her treasures guarded with a spell.
She takes me to her heart, she will not hold
A secret from me now! things new and old
She brings to please me. Yet, as if she knew—
A loving nurse—that soon her child must sleep,
And waken in a land where all things keep
Their first simplicity—she doth renew
Her forms that charmed me earliest;
To catch its import, yet hath One prevailed
To loose its golden clasps, and on her knee
He biddeth Nature lift me tenderly
And read thereout her Fairy tales, and tell
Where lie her treasures guarded with a spell.
She takes me to her heart, she will not hold
A secret from me now! things new and old
She brings to please me. Yet, as if she knew—
A loving nurse—that soon her child must sleep,
And waken in a land where all things keep
Their first simplicity—she doth renew
Her forms that charmed me earliest;
With the dew
Still hanging round them, well I know these flowers
She holds before me; through the noon-tide hours
I looked not on their hues; they did not burst
To gorgeous life, like some that I have nursed,
Shut from the ruder air, until they caught
Through each broad leaf a colouring of thought,
And spake a symbol-language too intense.
The while each lamp-lit urn
Did glow and spread and burn
Its heart away in odours, till the sense
Waxed faint through fragrance; not like these of bold
Magnificence, nor dearer flowers that grew
Familiar by my path, with whom of old
I talked so secretly, it seemed we drew
Still hanging round them, well I know these flowers
She holds before me; through the noon-tide hours
I looked not on their hues; they did not burst
To gorgeous life, like some that I have nursed,
Shut from the ruder air, until they caught
Through each broad leaf a colouring of thought,
And spake a symbol-language too intense.
The while each lamp-lit urn
Did glow and spread and burn
Its heart away in odours, till the sense
Waxed faint through fragrance; not like these of bold
Magnificence, nor dearer flowers that grew
Familiar by my path, with whom of old
I talked so secretly, it seemed we drew
