And a breastplate made of daisies,
Closely fitting, leaf on leaf.
Periwinkles interlaced
Drawn for belt about the waist;
While the brown bees, humming praises,
Shot their arrows round the chief.
And who knows, (I sometimes wondered,) If the disembodied soul
Of old Hector, once of Troy, Might not take a dreary joy Here to enter-if it thundered, Rolling up the thunder-roll?
Rolling this way from Troy-ruin,
In this body rude and rife
Just to enter, and take rest
'Neath the daisies of the breast-
They, with tender roots, renewing
His heroic heart to life?
Who could know? I sometimes started
At a motion or a sound!
Did his mouth speak-naming Troy,
With an οτοτοτοτοι ?
Did the pulse of the Strong-hearted
Make the daisies tremble-round?
It was hard to answer, often:
But the birds sang in the tree-
But the little birds sang bold
In the pear-tree green and old,
And my terror seemed to soften
Through the courage of their glee.
Oh, the birds, the tree, the ruddy
And white blossoms, sleek with rain!
Oh, my garden, rich with pansies!
Oh, my childhood's bright romances!
All revive, like Hector's body,
And I see them stir again!
And despite life's changes-chances,
And despite the deathbell's toll,
They press on me in full seeming!
Help, some angel! stay this dreaming!
As the birds sang in the branches,
Sing God's patience through my soul!
That no dreamer, no neglecter
Of the present's work unsped,
I may wake up and be doing,
Life's heroic ends pursuing,
Though my past is dead as Hector,
And though Hector is twice dead.
SLEEP on, baby, on the floor,
Tired of all the playing!
Sleep with smile the sweeter for
That, you dropped away in!
On your curls' full roundness, stand
Golden lights serenely.
One cheek, pushed out by the hand,
Folds the dimple inly.
Little head and little foot
Heavy laid for pleasure,
Underneath the lids half shut,
Slants the shining azure.—
Open-soul in noonday sun,
So, you lie and slumber!
Nothing evil having done,
Nothing can encumber.
I, who cannot sleep as well,
Shall I sigh to view you?
Or sigh further to foretell
All that may undo you?
Nay, keep smiling, little child,
Ere the sorrow neareth.
I will smile too! patience mild
Pleasure's token weareth.
Nay, keep sleeping before loss.
I shall sleep, though losing!
As by cradle, so by cross,
Sure is the reposing.
And God knows who sees us twain
Child at childish leisure,
I am near as tired of pain
As you seem of pleasure.
Very soon too, by His grace
Gently wrapt around me,
Shall I show as calm a face,
Shall I sleep as soundly.
Differing in this, that you
Clasp your playthings, sleeping, While my hand shall drop the few Given to my keeping.
Differing in this, that I
Sleeping shall be colder, And in waking presently, Brighter to beholder. Differing in this beside
(Sleeper, have you heard me? Do you move, and open wide Eyes of wonder toward me?)That while you I thus recall
From your sleep, I solely, Me from mine an angel shall, With reveille holy.
The rapid river carrieth
Many noises underneath
The hoary ocean:
Teaching his solemnity
Sounds of inland life and glee.
Learnt beside the waving tree,
When the winds in summer prank
Toss the shades from bank to bank,
And the quick rains, in emotion
Which rather gladdens earth than grieves, Count and visibly rehearse
The pulses of the universe
Upon the summer leaves
Learnt among the lilies straight,
When they bow them to the weight
Of many bees whose hidden hum
Seemeth from themselves to come-
Learnt among the grasses green,
Where the rustling mice are seen
By the gleaming, as they run,
Of their quick eyes in the sun;
And lazy sheep are browzing through,
With their noses trailed in dew;
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