(Imitated from the Japanese.)
I.
White-winged birds are playing
In the sunset heavens aglow,
White-sailed ships are straying
On the sunset sea below,—
But neither the birds above that are flying,
Nor the ships, where’er they may be,
In beauty and strangeness ever vying,
Are meant for me.
II.
The elm tree dances, while, lazily wooing,
The zephyr passes along;
And aloft on a bough a ring-dove cooing,
In ardor breathes his song;—
But neither the dove, nor the zephyr blowing,
Which speaks to flower and tree,
Nor the deep-dyed fringe of evening glowing,
Are meant for me.
III.
I turn my face to yon stately mountain,
Towering aloft in sunset glow,
With her lilied dell and ice-bound fountain,
And purple peak of snow;
In her secret alone are the stars and clouds,
And her beauty shines on the sea,
But the matchless scene a pall enshrouds,—
’Tis not for me.
IV.
From twilight’s tomb in sadness
Comes the breath of the sleeping rose,
Soft as the flush of sunset gladness
Its spirit about me flows;
And I hear in the silent depths around me
The voices of things to be,
And dreams from the infinite shore surround me—
These are for me!
V.
Shadowy sails that are sent to meet me,
Flapping the shadowy air;
And shapes of beauty that rise to greet me,—
Are ye phantoms, and yet so fair?
Now breaking the bands of the dusk asunder,
Tremulous stars dawn in mystery;
But they shine not a ray for the dark world under—
They shine for me!
VI.