Lisää runoja yhdestä lempikirjastani kautta aikain; The pagan shrine.
Sleep creeps upon the thought,
Like mist along the vale
The hardy limbs are caught
In beds of flowers unsought,
They wander in their jail,
Like lovers overwrought.
Sleep falls upon the eyes,
Like snowflakes on the ground;
And all the looks so wise
Fade from their coloured size,
As softly without sound
Their eyelids droop and rise.
Sleep steals away the pain
That clutches round the heart;
But like the fickle crane,
It takes not long to wane;
And leaves with cunning art,
When morning comes again.
The Song of Sorrow
This is the land of sorrow;
Shadow and gloom are here.
Always we greet to-morrow
With a glistening tear.
Hope has gone by for ever,
Hung between earth and skies,
Nought can be done to sever
Sound of eternal sighs.
This is the land of dreamers
With little power to dream;
Here there are no redeemers
Never for us a gleam.
This is the land of weeping;
We are makers of seas;
This is our short life's reaping,
The sighing sough of the breeze.
This is the land of wailing,
A twilight home of the soul,
Lost in a rudderless sailing
On a treacherous shoal.
From Alexandria to the Italian alps
I have left the cities behind me,
The tumult of crowd and car;
I have turned where Earth will unwind me
The beautiful forms from her Jar.
I have left the voices of mankind
Harsh, haggling over their goods,
For the sounds and scents of the wild kind
Dwelling by rivers and woods.
I have left the parasite fountains
Of gold, and disease, and show,
For the old and the silent mountains
And the pure pale airs of the snow.
I have lost them all in the valleys,
On the slopes of the climbing hill,
In the narrowing rock-bound alleys
Enclosing the tumbling rill.
And the lights of a midnight city
Are lost in the glow of a dawn;
The cry of a beggar for pity
In the sound of a stream new-taorn.
The modern magnificent buildings,
Will vanish as Caesar's have done,
The spires and the domes with their gildings,
Will not answer the morning sun.