The House of the Trees & Other Poems 5

The House of the Trees & Other Poems 5

Upon the vast expanse of heat

Light-footed breezes pace;

To waves of gold they tread the wheat,

They lift the sunflower’s face.

 

The cruel sun is blotted out,

The west is black with rain,

The drooping leaves in mingled doubt

And hope look up again.

 

The weeds and grass on tiptoe stand,

A strange exultant thrill

Prepares the dazed uncertain land

For the wild tempest’s will.

 

The wind grows big and breathes aloud

As it runs hurrying past;

At one sharp blow the thunder-cloud

Lets loose the furious blast.

The earth is beaten, drenched and drowned,

The elements go mad;

Swift streams of joy flow o’er the ground,

And all the leaves are glad.

 

Then comes a momentary lull,

The darkest clouds are furled,

And lo, new washed and beautiful

And breathless gleams the world.

 

 

 

 

A Slow Rain

 

 

A drowsy rain is stealing

In slowness without stop;

The sun-dried earth is feeling

Its coolness, drop by drop.

 

The clouds are slowly wasting

Their too long garnered store,

Each thirsty clod is tasting

One drop--and then one more.

 

Oh, ravishing as slumber

To wearied limbs and eyes,

And countless as the number

Of stars in wintry skies,

 

And sweet as the caresses

By baby fingers made,

These delicate rain kisses

On leaf and flower and blade.

 

 

 

 

The Patient Earth

 

 

I

 

The patient earth that loves the grass,

The flocks and herds that o’er it pass,

That guards the smallest summer nest

Within her scented bosom pressed,

And gives to beetle, moth, and bee

A lavish hospitality,

Still waits through weary years to bind

The hearts of suffering human kind.

 

 

II

 

How far we roamed away from her,

The tender mother of us all!

Yet ’mid the city’s noises stir

The sound of birds that call and call,

Wind melodies that rise and fall

Along the perfumed woodland wall

We looked upon with childhood’s eyes;

The ugly streets are all a blur,

And in our hearts are homesick cries.

 

 

 

III

 

The loving earth that roots the trees

So closely to her inmost heart,

Has rooted us as well as these,

Not long from her we live apart;

We draw upon a lengthening string,

For months perhaps, perhaps for years,

And plume ourselves that we are free,

And then--we hear a robin sing

Where starving grass shows stunted spears,

Or haycart moving fragrantly

Where creaking tavern sign-boards swing;

Then closer, tighter draws the chain,

The man, too old and worn for tears,

Goes back to be a child again.

 

 

IV

 

The greed that took us prisoner

First led our steps away from her;

For lust of gold we gave up life,

And sank heart-deep in worldly strife.

And when Success--belovèd name--

At last with faltering footsteps came,

The city’s rough, harsh imps of sound

And Competition’s crush and cheat

Were in her wreath securely bound;

Her fruits still savored of the street,

Its choking dust, its wearied feet,

Her poorest like her richest prize

Was rotted o’er with envious eyes,

And sickened with the human heat

Of hands that strove to clutch it fast,

And struggling gave it up at last.

Not so where nature summer-crowned

Makes fields and woods a pleasure-ground,

Sky-blest, wind-kissed, and circled round

With waters lapsing cool and sweet.

 

 

V

 

O Earth, sweet Mother, take us back!

With woodland strength and orchard joy,

And river peace without alloy,

Flood us who on the city’s track

Have followed stifling sordid years,

Cleanse us with dew and meadow rain,

Till life’s horizon lights and clears,

And nature claims us once again.

 

 

 

 

At Dawn

 

 

A spirit through

My window came when earth was soft with dew,

Close at the tender edge of dawn when all

The spring was new,

 

And bore me back

Along her rose-and-starry tinted track,

And showed me how the full-winged day emerged

From out the black.

 

She knew the speech

Of all the deep-pink blossoms of the peach,

Told in my ear the meanings of the trees,

The thoughts of each;

 

Explained to me

The language of the bird and frog and bee,

The messages the streams and rivers take

Unto the sea.

Alas! Alas!

I have forgot. The dream did from me pass.

I know not e’en the meaning dear and sweet

Of common grass.

 

And now when I

Roam this strange earth beneath a stranger sky,

Soft syllables of that forgotten speech

Faint as a sigh,

 

Come back again,

With sweet solicitings that urge like pain,

And brood like love--as full of light and dark

As April rain.