THE SONGS OF QUEEN AVERLAINE.
The day has come; at last my dream unfolds
White, wondering petals with the rising sun.
No other glade in Love's world-garden holds
So fair a bloom from vanquished winter won.
Long, oh, so long I watched through budding hours,
And, trembling, feared my dream would never wake;
As, one by one, I saw star-tranced flowers
Out on the night their dewy splendour shake.
But with the earliest gleam of dawn it stirred,
Knowing that Love had put the dark to flight;
And I must sing more glad than any bird
Because the sun has filled my dream with light.
Is it high noon, already, in the land?
O Love, I dreamed that morn could never pass;
That we might ever wander, hand in hand,
As children in June-meadows plucking flowers,
Through ever-waking, fresh-unfolding hours:
Yet now we sink love-wearied in the grass;
Yea, it is noon, high noon in all the land.
The young wind slumbers; all the little birds
That sang about us in the fields of morn
Are songless now; no happy flight of words
On Love's lip hovers — Love has waxed to noon.
Ah, God, if Love should wane to evening soon
To perish in a sunless world, forlorn,
And cease with the last song of weary birds!
At dawn I gathered flowers of white,
To garland them for your delight.
At noon I gathered flowers of blue,
To weave them into joy for you.
At eve I gather purple flowers,
To strew above the withered hours.
She knelt at eve beside the stream,
And, sighing, sang: “O waters clear,
Forsaken now of joy and fear,
I come to drown a withered dream.
“Unseen of day, I let it fall
Within the shadow of my hair.
O little dream, that bloomed so fair,
The waters hide you after all!”
“Is it not dawn?” she cried, and raised her head,
“Or hath the sun, grey-shrouded, yesternight,
Gone down with Love for ever to the dead?
When Love has perished, can there yet be light?”
“Yea, it is dawn,” one answered: “see the dew
Quivers agleam, and all the east is white;
While in the willow song begins anew.”
“When Love has perished, can there yet be light?”