Poems (Greenwell)/A Vision of Green Leaves
A VISION OF GREEN LEAVES.
The time was Winter, Winter or the Spring That comes with tardy footstep, lingering Like some reluctant Giver, yielding cold The boons that it no longer may withhold; And ere I slept, I listened to the rain Dashed by the fitful wind against the pane, The wind, that even through my sleep did seem To break upon the music of my dream, With pause of change and dreariness, and still Swelled, sighed, and moaned each varying scene to fill With trouble and unrest; at length outworn I slept within my sleep, and to the Morn (Still in my dream) awoke, with vacant eye Forth from the casement gazing listlessly,When sudden I exclaimed, "A miracle! A Summer come at once, without a Spring To herald it! a bright awakening To life and loveliness," for all around Were leaves, green bursting leaves, and on the ground Was short grass springing thick, and through the wave The dark flag cut its swift way like a glaive; And broad as Orient growths, upon the pool, Large, juicy leaves lay mantling, smooth and cool: I saw no flowers, no fruit, but everywhere Leaves, only leaves, that filled the summer air With murmurs, soft as whispers, that the heart Hath longed and listened for; while light and low, As chidings fall from lips that turn their flow To gentleness, quick rustlings waved apart The boughs, and fragrance soothed the sense like thought Too sweet for utterance; e'en then I caught The Dream's full import: "'Tis the Spring's warm sigh," Methought, "that calls forth all this luxury Of leaf and greenness; thus, upon the heart A word, a look will bid a Summer start, A Summer come at once, without a Spring To herald it, a sudden wakening;" Then from the bauds of sleep my spirit broke, And with the sweetness on my soul I woke, And it was Winter still! but in my heart Was Summer! Summer that would not depart, But breathed across its silence, low and light, Like those sweet forest-rustlings of the night; It was a dream of Hope! and sent by Her My Lady bright, because I minister Unto her honour, while I strive to sing And praise her with my Lyre's most silver string; It was a dream of Hope; I know the hue Of her fresh mantle, and her symbol true,The leaf! she cannot give the flower or fruit, But sends their promise by a herald mute; The leaf, that comes like one in haste to bring The first of all some gladsome welcoming, And cannot speak for joy, but with the hand Still points and beckons to the coming band; I know the symbol, and I bind the sign Upon my heart to make it doubly thine, Thou Bringer of sweet dreams by day and night, Still will I sing and praise Thee, Lady bright! And I will gather of these leaves, to twine A chaplet for those sunny brows of thine; And by thy smiling Thou wilt keep its sheen, In Winter as in Summer fresh and green!