SOROLLA

“I am fleet,” said the joy of the sun,

Trembling then on the breast

Of the summer, white, still;

“I am fleet, I am gone!”

Smiling came one

With brush and a will,

Undelaying, unpressed,

And the glancing gold of the tremulous sun

Lingers for man, inescapable, won.

“Not here, nor yet there,”

Cried the waves that fled,

“Shall ye set us a snare.

Motion is breath of us,

Stillness is death of us;

We live as we run,

We pause and are sped!”

Laughing came one

With brush and a will,

And the waves never die and are nevermore still.

“I pass,” said the light

On the joy-child's face;

But softly came one

And it leaves not its place.

Here Time shall replight

His faith with the dawn,

And his ages, gaunt grey,

Ever cycling, behold

Their youth never flown

In a world never old,

Though they pass and repass with their trailing decay.

“We stay,” said the shadows, and hung

On the brush of the master; “we are thine own.”

Fearless he flung

The magical chains around them, and said,

“Ye too shall be light, and to life bring the sun!”

And man delayed

By the captive pain's revealing glow

Feeleth earth's breathing woe,

And his vow is made;

“Ye shall pass, ye shadows, yea;

And life, as the sun, be free;

The God in me saith!”

And the shadows go;

For joy is the breath

Of eternity,

And sorrow the sigh of a day.