Thou laughest at the mill, the whir and worry Of spindle and of loom, O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet. PALINGEN ESIS. I LAY upon the headland-height, and listened And the great wheel that toils amid the To the incessant sobbing of the sea hurry And rushing of the flume. In caverns under me, And watched the waves, that tossed and fled and glistened, Born in the purple, born to joy and Until the rolling meadows of amethyst pleasance, Thou dost not toil nor spin, Melted away in mist. But makest glad and radiant with thy Then suddenly, as one from sleep, I presence The meadow and the lin. The wind blows, and uplifts thy drooping banner, And round thee throng and run The rushes, the green yeomen of thy manor, The outlaws of the sun. started; For round about me all the sunny The burnished dragon-fly is thine at- A moment only, and the light and glory tendant, And tilts against the field, And down the listed sunbeam rides resplendent With steel-blue mail and shield. Thou art the Iris, fair among the fairest, Who, armed with golden rod And winged with the celestial azure, bearest The message of some God. Faded away, and the disconsolate shore Stood lonely as before; And the wild-roses of the promontory Around me shuddered in the wind, and shed Their petals of pale red. There was an old belief that in the em bers Of all things their primordial form exists, And cunning alchemists Could re-create the rose with all its members Thou art the Muse, who far from crowded From its own ashes, but without the |