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PoetósferaLa BibliotecaE. Pauline Johnson

E. Pauline Johnson · Modernismo

Autumn's Orchestra

inglés

Know by the thread of music woven through

This fragile web of cadences I spin,

That I have only caught these songs since you

Voiced them upon your haunting violin.

October's orchestra plays softly on

The northern forest with its thousand strings.

And Autumn, the conductor wields anon

The Golden-rod—The baton that he swings.

There is a lonely minor chord that sings

Faintly and far along the forest ways,

When the firs finger faintly on the strings

Of that rare violin the night wind plays,

Just as it whispered once to you and me

Beneath the English pines beyond the sea.

The lost wind wandering, forever grieves

Low overhead,

Above grey mosses whispering of leaves

Fallen and dead.

And through the lonely night sweeps their refrain

Like Chopin's prelude, sobbing 'neath the rain.

The wild grape mantling the trail and tree,

Festoons in graceful veils its drapery,

Its tendrils cling, as cllngs the memory stirred

By some evasive haunting tune, twice heard.

I

Elfin bell in azure dress,

Chiming all day long,

Ringing through the wilderness

Dulcet notes of song.

Daintiest of forest flowers

Weaving like a spell—

Music through the Autumn hours,

Little Elfin bell.

And then the sound of marching armies 'woke

Amid the branches of the soldier oak,

And tempests ceased their warring cry, and dumb

The lashing storms that muttered, overcome,

Choked by the heralding of battle smoke,

When these gnarled branches beat their martial drum.

A sweet high treble threads its silvery song,

Voice of the restless aspen, fine and thin

It trills its pure soprano, light and long—

Like the vibretto of a mandolin.

The cedar trees have sung their vesper hymn,

And now the music sleeps—

Its benediction falling where the dim

Dusk of the forest creeps.

Mute grows the great concerto—and the light

Of day is darkening. Good-night, Good-night.

But through the night time I shall hear within

The murmur of these trees,

The calling of your distant violin

Sobbing across the seas,

And waking wind, and star-reflected light

Shall voice my answering. Good-night, Good-night.

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Por su autor
E. Pauline Johnson · 75 piezas más en la casa
Dónde vive
La Biblioteca

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Autor
E. Pauline Johnson
Título
Autumn's Orchestra
Lengua
inglés
Época
Modernismo
Sala
La Biblioteca
Identificador
ws-en-autumn-s-orchestra--e-pauline-johnson-9c172b
Cita recomendada
E. Pauline Johnson, «Autumn's Orchestra», Poetósfera, poetosfera.com/p/ws-en-autumn-s-orchestra--e-pauline-johnson-9c172b.html

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