A Beautiful Idyl 155 The cosmic takes the place of the idyllic; the begetter, the Adamic man, take the place of the lover; patriotism takes the place of family affection; charity takes the place of piety; love of kind is more than love of neighbor". But we can never believe that the man is entire who has not known the love of woman. Indeed, we are relieved to learn from his note book12: My life has not been occupied and drawn out by love for comrades, for I have not found them. Therefore I have put my passionate love of comrades in my poems. XVII Yet by one of the contradictions in which he abounds, perhaps the most beautiful idyl in the language that deals with the longing of parted lovers, is his interpretation of the song of the hermit thrush, in his "A Word out of the Sea". Of this Standish O'Grady says: There is a very luxury of melancholy in his "Word out of Sea", and the lone singer on the shore of Paumanok, wonderful, causing tears. Strange, unapprehended influences pour themselves into the words of that great poem, which have never before found expression; melancholy as of one surfeited with joy, to whom sorrow is now a deeper joy, woe with the heart of delight, flickering shadows that seems to live and hover beckoning over the scene, voices as from another world, blank desolation which we desire to be no other than it is, suffering and despair, though somehow it seems better that they should be; a poem whose meaning cannot be fathomed, whose beauty cannot be fully tasted-a mystic, unfathomable song'. XVIII 1. Once, Paumanok, When the snows had melted, and the Fifth Month grass was growing, Up this sea-shore, in some briers, Two guests from Alabama-two together, with brown, And every day the he-bird, to and fro, near at hand, And every day the she-bird, crouched on her nest, silent, with bright eyes, And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them, Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating. 2 Shine! Shine! Pour down your warmth, great Sun! While we bask-we two together. 3. Two together! Winds blow South, or winds blow North, Day come white, or night come black, The Song of the Hermit Thrush 157 Home, or rivers and mountains from home, If we two but keep together. 4. Till of a sudden, May be killed, unknown to her mate, One forenoon the she-bird crouched not on the nest, Nor returned that afternoon, nor the next, Nor ever appeared again. 5. And thenceforward, all summer, in the sound of the sea, And at night, under the full of the moon, in calmer weather, Over the hoarse surging of the sea, Or flitting from brier to brier by day, I saw, I heard at intervals, the remaining one, the he-bird, The solitary guest from Alabama. 6. Blow! Blow! Blow up sea-winds along Paumanok's shore; 7. Yes, when the stars glistened, All night long, on the prong of a moss-scallop'd stake, Down, almost amid the slapping waves, Sat the lone singer, wonderful, causing tears. 8. He called on his mate, He poured forth the meanings which I, of all men, know. 9. Yes, my brother, I know, The rest might not-but I have treasured every note, For once, and more than once, dimly, down to the beach gliding. Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights after their sorts, The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing, I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair, Listened long and long. 10. Listened, to keep, to sing-now translating the notes, Following you, my brother. 11. Soothe! Soothe! Close on its wave soothes the wave behind, And again another behind, embracing and lap ping, every one close, But my love soothes not me. 12. Low hangs the moon-it rose late, O it is lagging-O I think it is heavy with love. 13. O madly the sea pushes upon the land, With love-with love. 14. O night! O do I not see my love fluttering out there among the breakers? The Song of the Hermit Thrush 159 What is that little black thing I see there in the white? 15. Loud! Loud! Loud I call to you my love! High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves, You must know who I am, my love. 16. Low-hanging moon! What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow? O moon, do not keep her from me any longer. 17. Land! O land! Whichever way I turn, O I think you could give For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way 18. O rising stars! Perhaps the one I want so much will rise with some of you. 19. O throat! Sound clearer through the atmosphere! Pierce the woods, the earth, Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want. 20. Shake out, carols! Solitary here-the night's carols! Carols of lonesome love! Death's carols! Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon! O, under that moon, where she droops almost down into the sea! O reckless, despairing carols. |