Poems (Dudley)/A Floating Reverie
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A FLOATING REVERIE.
DREAMILY surges my pigmy boat,
Dreamily plashes the oar;
Copses of willow and braes of fern
Dream on the beckoning shore:
Dreamily plashes the oar;
Copses of willow and braes of fern
Dream on the beckoning shore:
Mountains of cumulus, Orient priests,
Kneel in their stole of white:
Meadows of sky-dust slope blue repose
Down to the prayer-time of light;
Kneel in their stole of white:
Meadows of sky-dust slope blue repose
Down to the prayer-time of light;
Reaches of stubble-hill golden up—
Up through the shimmering air;
Touched by the frolicking billows here,
Touching the deep ocean there.
Up through the shimmering air;
Touched by the frolicking billows here,
Touching the deep ocean there.
Listless I float in the August noon,
Hearing the summer grow still;
Vanishing footfalls of toil in the vale!
Vanishing mirth on the hill!
Hearing the summer grow still;
Vanishing footfalls of toil in the vale!
Vanishing mirth on the hill!
Grasshopper, whirl with your gold-lined wings
Over the acres bereft;
Patriarch thou of the gleaning fields,
Welcome to all that is left;
Over the acres bereft;
Patriarch thou of the gleaning fields,
Welcome to all that is left;
Cricket, your dolorous monotone,
Pitiless, ceaseless and chill,
Plays on the nerves as a soulless bow,
Plays in a hand without skill;
Pitiless, ceaseless and chill,
Plays on the nerves as a soulless bow,
Plays in a hand without skill;
Golden-rod tossing your gay, sweet plumes
Off from the sunniest shore,
Happy your thought but your lavish joy,
Burdens me, burdens me sore.
Off from the sunniest shore,
Happy your thought but your lavish joy,
Burdens me, burdens me sore.
Gladness has shadows that fall somewhere,
Somewhere the day-time matures;
Somebody's sunshine is somebody's shade;
Slowly I drift into yours.
Somewhere the day-time matures;
Somebody's sunshine is somebody's shade;
Slowly I drift into yours.
Tardily rung are your bloom-bells sweet,
Hinting the sadness anear—
Hard i1s the waiting for grief to come,
Harder than grief that is here:
Hinting the sadness anear—
Hard i1s the waiting for grief to come,
Harder than grief that is here:
Waiting for death that a birth may be;
Waiting for darkness at morn;
Waiting for Autumn while Summer lives—
Must it be, can it be borne?
Waiting for darkness at morn;
Waiting for Autumn while Summer lives—
Must it be, can it be borne?
Patience, O heart! catch the Summer's breath,
Drink in her vanishing sweet;
Calm thou wilt gain for thy stormy unrest,
Victory out of defeat.
Drink in her vanishing sweet;
Calm thou wilt gain for thy stormy unrest,
Victory out of defeat.
Dying is only a change of life,
Death must live or life will die;
Sorrow but gladness with visor closed,
Darkness but fault of the eye.
Death must live or life will die;
Sorrow but gladness with visor closed,
Darkness but fault of the eye.
What is the witchery, perfect day,
Over the wood and hill?
What is thy sorcery fair Lake Side
Subtle and sacred and still?
Over the wood and hill?
What is thy sorcery fair Lake Side
Subtle and sacred and still?
Shoreward I turn with reluctant oar,
Saddened, but sad with joy;
Joy for the beauty that brought me tears,
Tears devoid of annoy.
Saddened, but sad with joy;
Joy for the beauty that brought me tears,
Tears devoid of annoy.
Lake Side, August, 1873.
