The Voice of the Valley/Hymn of Summer
Hymn of Summer
This is the month of gracious shade of trees—dusky hair on the marble ground-chest invoking mortals' worship.
Here the composed wonder of the earth-canvas is divided by the proud black shade and virtuous white light.
Sing, Summer Muse, the abundant love of the shade and light that overflows from Time's grand breast!
Harken, Genii, to the light and shade—gay prattle that is the despair of the poet's soul!—
The zealous breezes from the four corners of the universe are pilgrims unto the forest-shrine where I pray.
Confess, mortals, the deep-grounded sins of thy memory-record unto the God of the Woodland!
Ah, wonderful is the sacred remedy ensainting mortals' self-love at the forest-shrine!
Listen! The sorrowless birds rejoice at the revealing of the Perfect Day; they bend not their wishes unto titles and gold.
Enter into Paradise, mortals,—the guardian-birds of the hidden gate call thee!
Come, Goddess, whose maiden eye-doors are enameled with the dethroned stars of heaven—
Come, Beauty, whose lips, portals to the love-mansion of her heart, are illumined with blood from flower cheeks,
Sing unto thy slave the song of the angel-land where thou and I hide from vile mortals!
Sing, Summer Muse, the everlasting greenness of trees that breathes the unwithering health of celestial youth!
I hail the beauteous abundance of the leaves that perfect their secret toilet with the sun's power!
Rise, Poet, sing of the fairy world that is not Time's mere fancy, where the olive of balmy age ever lives!
Thou, fearless mortals against Fate's tyranny, art the worthy partners of Heaven and Earth!
Oh, this is the happy month of the ethereal water that destroys Death and Sorrow for mortals under the shade!
I repose in the shade-breezes from angels' gardens—I sing the summer song that the rivulet echoes down from afar!
Here the composed wonder of the earth-canvas is divided by the proud black shade and virtuous white light.
Sing, Summer Muse, the abundant love of the shade and light that overflows from Time's grand breast!
Harken, Genii, to the light and shade—gay prattle that is the despair of the poet's soul!—
The zealous breezes from the four corners of the universe are pilgrims unto the forest-shrine where I pray.
Confess, mortals, the deep-grounded sins of thy memory-record unto the God of the Woodland!
Ah, wonderful is the sacred remedy ensainting mortals' self-love at the forest-shrine!
Listen! The sorrowless birds rejoice at the revealing of the Perfect Day; they bend not their wishes unto titles and gold.
Enter into Paradise, mortals,—the guardian-birds of the hidden gate call thee!
Come, Goddess, whose maiden eye-doors are enameled with the dethroned stars of heaven—
Come, Beauty, whose lips, portals to the love-mansion of her heart, are illumined with blood from flower cheeks,
Sing unto thy slave the song of the angel-land where thou and I hide from vile mortals!
Sing, Summer Muse, the everlasting greenness of trees that breathes the unwithering health of celestial youth!
I hail the beauteous abundance of the leaves that perfect their secret toilet with the sun's power!
Rise, Poet, sing of the fairy world that is not Time's mere fancy, where the olive of balmy age ever lives!
Thou, fearless mortals against Fate's tyranny, art the worthy partners of Heaven and Earth!
Oh, this is the happy month of the ethereal water that destroys Death and Sorrow for mortals under the shade!
I repose in the shade-breezes from angels' gardens—I sing the summer song that the rivulet echoes down from afar!