the complete poetical works-第130节
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I look down over the farms；
In the fields of grain I see
The harvest that is to be；
And I fling to the air my arms；
For I know it is all for me。
I hear the sound of flails
Far off； from the threshing…floors
In barns； with their open doors；
And the wind； the wind in my sails；
Louder and louder roars。
I stand here in my place；
With my foot on the rock below；
And whichever way it may blow
I meet it face to face；
As a brave man meets his foe。
And while we wrestle and strive
My master； the miller； stands
And feeds me with his hands；
For he knows who makes him thrive；
Who makes him lord of lands。
On Sundays I take my rest；
Church…going bells begin
Their low； melodious din；
I cross my arms on my breast；
And all is peace within。
THE TIDE RISES； THE TIDE FALLS
The tide rises； the tide falls；
The twilight darkens； the curlew calls；
Along the sea…sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town；
And the tide rises； the tide falls。
Darkness settles on roofs and walls；
But the sea in the darkness calls and calls；
The little waves； with their soft； white hands；
Efface the footprints in the sands；
And the tide rises； the tide falls。
The morning breaks； the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh； as the hostler calls；
The day returns； but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore；
And the tide rises； the tide falls。
SONNETS
MY CATHEDRAL
Like two cathedral towers these stately pines
Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones；
The arch beneath them is not built with stones；
Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines；
And carved this graceful arabesque of vines；
No organ but the wind here sighs and moans；
No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones。
No marble bishop on his tomb reclines。
Enter！ the pavement； carpeted with leaves；
Gives back a softened echo to thy tread！
Listen！ the choir is singing； all the birds；
In leafy galleries beneath the eaves；
Are singing！ listen； ere the sound be fled；
And learn there may be worship with out words。
THE BURIAL OF THE POET
RICHARD HENRY DANA
In the old churchyard of his native town；
And in the ancestral tomb beside the wall；
We laid him in the sleep that comes to all；
And left him to his rest and his renown。
The snow was falling； as if Heaven dropped down
White flowers of Paradise to strew his pall；
The dead around him seemed to wake； and call
His name； as worthy of so white a crown。
And now the moon is shining on the scene；
And the broad sheet of snow is written o'er
With shadows cruciform of leafless trees；
As once the winding…sheet of Saladin
With chapters of the Koran； but； ah！ more
Mysterious and triumphant signs are these。
NIGHT
Into the darkness and the hush of night
Slowly the landscape sinks； and fades away；
And with it fade the phantoms of the day；
The ghosts of men and things； that haunt the light；
The crowd； the clamor； the pursuit； the flight；
The unprofitable splendor and display；
The agitations； and the cares that prey
Upon our hearts； all vanish out of sight。
The better life begins； the world no more
Molests us； all its records we erase
From the dull common…place book of our lives；
That like a palimpsest is written o'er
With trivial incidents of time and place；
And lo！ the ideal； hidden beneath； revives。
L'ENVOI
THE POET AND HIS SONGS
As the birds come in the Spring；
We know not from where；
As the stars come at evening
From depths of the air；
As the rain comes from the cloud；
And the brook from the ground；
As suddenly； low or loud；
Out of silence a sound；
As the grape comes to the vine；
The fruit to the tree；
As the wind comes to the pine；
And the tide to the sea；
As come the white sails of ships
O'er the ocean's verge；
As comes the smile to the lips；
The foam to the surge；
So come to the Poet his songs；
All hitherward blown
From the misty realm； that belongs
To the vast unknown。
His； and not his； are the lays
He sings； and their fame
Is his； and not his； and the praise
And the pride of a name。
For voices pursue him by day；
And haunt him by night；
And he listens； and needs must obey；
When the Angel says： 〃Write！〃
***********
IN THE HARBOR
BECALMED
Becalmed upon the sea of Thought；
Still unattained the land it sought；
My mind； with loosely…hanging sails；
Lies waiting the auspicious gales。
On either side； behind； before；
The ocean stretches like a floor；
A level floor of amethyst；
Crowned by a golden dome of mist。
Blow； breath of inspiration； blow！
Shake and uplift this golden glow！
And fill the canvas of the mind
With wafts of thy celestial wind。
Blow； breath of song！ until I feel
The straining sail； the lifting keel；
The life of the awakening sea；
Its motion and its mystery！
THE POET'S CALENDAR
JANUARY
Janus am I； oldest of potentates；
Forward I look； and backward； and below
I count； as god of avenues and gates；
The years that through my portals come and go。
I block the roads； and drift the fields with snow；
I chase the wild…fowl from the frozen fen；
My frosts congeal the rivers in their flow；
My fires light up the hearths and hearts of men。
FEBRUARY
I am lustration； and the sea is mine。
I wash the sands and headlands with my tide；
My brow is crowned with branches of the pine；
Before my chariot…wheels the fishes glide。
By me all things unclean are purified；
By me the souls of men washed white again；
E'en the unlovely tombs of those who died
Without a dirge； I cleanse from every stain。
MARCH
I Martius am！ Once first； and now the third！
To lead the Year was my appointed place；
A mortal dispossessed me by a word；
And set there Janus with the double face。
Hence I make war on all the human race；
I shake the cities with my hurricanes；
I flood the rivers and their banks efface；
And drown the farms and hamlets with my rains。
APRIL
I open wide the portals of the Spring
To welcome the procession of the flowers；
With their gay banners； and the birds that sing
Their song of songs from their aerial towers。
I soften with my sunshine and my showers
The heart of earth； with thoughts of love I glide
Into the hearts of men； and with the Hours
Upon the Bull with wreathed horns I ride。
MAY
Hark！ The sea…faring wild…fowl loud proclaim
My coming； and the swarming of the bees。
These are my heralds； and behold！ my name
Is written in blossoms on the hawthorn…trees。
I tell the mariner when to sail the seas；
I waft o'er all the land from far away
The breath and bloom of the Hesperides；
My birthplace。 I am Maia。 I am May。
JUNE
Mine is the Month of Roses； yes； and mine
The Month of Marriages！ All pleasant sights
And scents； the fragrance of the blossoming vine；
The foliage of the valleys and the heights。
Mine are the longest days； the loveliest nights；
The mower's scythe makes music to my ear；
I am the mother of all dear delights；
I am the fairest daughter of the year。
JULY
My emblem is the Lion； and I breathe
The breath of Libyan deserts o'er the land；
My sickle as a sabre I unsheathe；
And bent before me the pale harvests stand。
The lakes and rivers shrink at my command；
And there is thirst and fever in the air；
The sky is changed to brass； the earth to sand；
I am the Emperor whose name I bear。
AUGUST
The Emperor Octavian； called the August；
I being his favorite； bestowed his name
Upon me； and I hold it still in trust；
In memory of him and of his fame。
I am the Virgin； and my vestal flame
Burns less intensely than the Lion's rage；
Sheaves are my only garlands； and I claim
The golden Harvests as my heritage。
SEPTEMBER
I bear the Scales； where hang in equipoise
The night and day； and when unto my lips
I put my trumpet； with its stress and noise
Fly the white clouds like tattered sails of ships；
The tree…tops lash the air with sounding whips；
Southward the clamorous sea…fowl wing their flight；
The hedges are all red with haws and hips；
The Hunter's Moon reigns empress of the night。
OCTOBER
My ornaments are fruits； my garments leaves；
Woven like cloth of gold； and crimson dyed；
I do not boast the harvesting of sheaves；
O'er orchards and o'er vineyards I preside。
Though on the frigid Scorpion I ride；
The dreamy air is full； and overflows
With tender memories of the summer…tide；
And mingled voices of the doves and crows。
NOVEMBER
The Ce
