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ALL
day long the breezes whisper where the meadows greet
the sun,
All day long from morn till even songs of nature's secrets
run
O'er the grass by waters sedgèd,
Velvet-soft and many ridgèd,
Whispering glide, in ears that hear not, dreamlike dying
one by one.
Secret
dreams are ghosts in sunlight, lightless flame and voiceless
song,
Only night, the watchful mother, guards within her temple
strong,
All the truth that silence giveth,
All the light in darkness liveth,
All the tears and all the laughter, all the stars of
heaven's throng.
For
soft are the noontide zephyrs,
Languid the noonday flows,
But the whispered words awake not
In the breath of the white wild-rose.
And the stars and the dreams are hidden, and ever the
zephyr blows.
All
night long the silent meadows by the many sedgèd
stream,
Thrall of stars and spectral moonlight, willow's shade
and water's gleam,
Hearken to the words of wonder
Of the stars that, passing under,
Veil the glory of the darkness in the substance of a
dream.
But
the grasses of the meadow, careless, wave and night
departs
Through the rosy gates of daybreak, and the waking morrow
starts
From its sleep of dreams and shadows,
Till the sunlight o'er the meadows
Hides the light of midnight's weaving from the reach
of heedless hearts.
For
night is the day of knowledge,
And truth a steadfast star;
But the hours of dark are fleeting,
Swift as the breezes are;
And the daylight comes with its darkness, and the grass
knows not its star.
'Mongst
the grasses of the meadow grows a daisy, golden-eyed,
Petal-white her maiden heart is, and the grasses by
her side
Mock the paleness of her flowers
Thro' the glowing sunny hours;
But the daisy smiles in sadness, and her pallor is her
pride.
All
the night she sleepeth softly, while the grasses round
her wave,
Dreams, perchance, of the great sorrow that the night
of knowledge gave –
In that hour of sudden knowing,
When the day to darkness growing
Left her waking in strange starlight, made her heart
eternal slave.
For
the star-love of the daisy
Lives in a world unknown
Beyond the drowsy twilight
••••••
And the daisy pines in silence, in the sunlit world
alone.
And
soft are the noontide zephyrs,
Languid the noonday flows,
But the whispered words awake not
In the scent of the white wild-rose;
And the stars and the dreams are hidden, and only the
daisy knows.
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