ALISON'S MOTHER TO THE BROOK

Brook, of the listening grass,

Brook of the sun-fleckt wings,

Brook of the same wild way and flickering spell!

Must you begone? Will you forever pass,

After so many years and dear to tell?—

Brook of all hoverings...

Brook that I kneel above;

Brook of my love.

Ah, but I have a charm to trouble you;

A spell that shall subdue

Your all-escaping heart, unheedful one

And unremembering!

Now, when I make my prayer

To your wild brightness there

That will but run and run,

O mindless Water!—

Hark,— now will I bring

A grace as wild,— my little yearling daughter,

My Alison.

Heed well that threat;

And tremble for your hill-born liberty

So bright to see!—

Your shadow-dappled way, unthwarted yet,

And the high hills whence all your dearness bubbled;—

You, never to possess!

For let her dip but once — O fair and fleet,—

Here in your shallows, yes,

Here in your silverness

Her two blithe feet,—

O Brook of mine, how shall your heart be troubled!

The heart, the bright unmothering heart of you,

That never knew.—

( O never, more than mine of long ago.

How could we know?—)

For who should guess

The shock and smiting of that perfectness?—

The lily-thrust of those ecstatic feet

Unpityingly sweet?—

Sweet beyond all the blurred blind dreams that grope

The upward paths of hope?

And who could guess

The dulcet holiness,

The lilt and gladness of those jocund feet,

Unpityingly sweet?

Ah, for your coolness that shall change and stir

With every glee of her!—

Under the fresh amaze

That drips and glistens from her wiles and ways;

When the endearing air

That everywhere

Must twine and fold and follow her, shall be

Rippled to ring on ring of melody,—

Music, like shadows from the joy of her,

Small starry Reveller!—

When from her triumphings,—

All frolic wings —

There soars beyond the glories of the height,

The laugh of her delight!

And it shall sound, until

Your heart stand still;

Shaken to human sight;

Struck through with tears and light;

One with the one desire

Unto that central Fire

Of Love the Sun, whence all we lighted are

Even from clod to star.

And all your glory, O most swift and sweet!—

And all your exultation only this;

To be the lowly and forgotten kiss

Beneath those feet.

You that must ever pass,—

You of the same wild way,—

The silver-bright good-bye without a look!—

You that would never stay,

For the beseeching grass...

Brook!—

You, Four Walls,

Wall not in my heart!

When the lovely night-time falls

All so welcomely,

Blinding, sweet hearth-fire,

Light of heart's desire,

Blind not, blind not me!

Unto them that weep apart,—

While you glow, within,

Wreckt, despairing kin,—

Dark with misery:

— Do not blind my heart!

You, close Heart!

Never hide from mine

Worlds that I divine

Through thy human dearness.

O belovèd Nearness,

Hallow all I understand

With thy hand-in-hand;—

All the lights I seek,

With thy cheek-to-cheek;

All the loveliness I loved apart.

You, heart's Home!—

Wall not in my heart.