Songs from Vagabondia/Down the Songo
DOWN THE SONGO.
I.FLOATING!Floating—and all the stillness waitsAnd listens at the ivory gates,Full of a dim uncertain presageOf some strange, undelivered message.There is no sound save from the bushThe alto of the shy wood-thrush,And ever and anon the dipOf a lazy oar. The rhythmic drowsiness keeps timeTo hazy subtleties of rhymeThat seem to slipThrough the lulled soul to seek the sleepy shore.The idle clouds go floating by;Above us sky, beneath us sky;The sun shines on us as we lieFloating.
It is a dream.It is a dream, my love; see howThe ripples quiver at the prow,And all the long reflections shakeUnsteadily beneath the lake.The mists about the uplands showDim violet towers that come and go.Phantasmagoric palacesRise trembling there,As though one breath of waking weatherWould crash their airy walls togetherWith sudden stress,While silent detonations shook the air—Vast fabrics toppling to the groundAnd vanishing without a sound.Ah, love, these are not what we deem;It is a dream.II.Let us dream on, then,—dream and dieEre the dream pass.Let us for once, like idle flowers,Let slip the unregarded hours,Like the wise flowers that lie Unfretted by a feeble thought,Future and past alike forgot,Drinking the dew contentedlyIn the cool grass.III.Look yonder where the clouds float; could we glideAs they, across the sky’s blue shoreless tide,What better were it than to dreamAcross yon lake and into this still stream?IV.Trees and a glimpse of sky!And the slow river, quiet as a pool!And thou and I—and thou and I—Kiss me! How soft the air is and how cool!