Use Dark Theme
bell notificationshomepageloginedit profile

Munafa ebook

Munafa ebook

Read Ebook: Elfin land: and other poems by Ball Benjamin West

More about this book

Font size:

Background color:

Text color:

Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page

Ebook has 83 lines and 6821 words, and 2 pages

In the mansion where she died, All is silent, drear and lone; In the yard the lindens moan-- Through the chambers shadows glide.

THE INDIAN SUMMER.

Now the sweet autumnal Summer which the Indian loved so well, Over mountain, plain, and hollow sheds the glory of its spell.

Softer breathe the gentle zephyrs, and like visitants they seem From a latitude benigner, from a climate more serene.

Dream the heavens warm and glowing, shining veils of tepid haze, Nimbus-like investing nature, through the long celestial days.

Cities, hamlets, russet woodlands, saintly halos seem to wear, All transfigured in the splendor of the mild October air.

Such perchance the lenient ether, such as these the tranquil skies, Spread above the fields of heaven, arching over Paradise.

Brief their beauty, transient, fleeting--soon the north wind's trump is blown, Whirl the leaves in gusty eddies, and the rainy tempests moan.

HYMN TO PHOSPHOR.

Radiant Phosphor! thou art fashioned Like some beardless minion young, And before the giant Mithra Do thy wing?d sandals run.

Morning's herald, urn of splendor! From thy stellar fountains flow Purer lustres, fires intenser Than thy brother stars can show.

When their beams begin to darken And the bird Alectryon sings, Still thy torch's tresses sparkle, Still thine orb its radiance flings.

Once the Dawn adored thy beauty; Thee her acolyte she made, Waiting in her saffron porches, While the world was wrapt in shade.

Kissed she oft thy beamy temples, And from anemonies fair Shook the dew-drops to besprinkle Thy redundant yellow hair.

With her arms about thee folded, Oft thy fragrant mouth she prest, That exhaled a sweeter odor Than the cassia-scented West.

Hail, thou silver-shielded planet, Whom undying beams adorn! Hail, thou firmamental leader! Dewy sentinel of morn!

TO THE CRICKET.

Flourishes in song immortal The Cicada famed of old; On the brows of Attic women Was its likeness worn in gold.

But my Cricket! none have praised thee, Insect full of dulcet mirth! Singing in the August moonlight, Minstrel of the country hearth!

Sharded rhapsodist of Autumn, When the year begins to wane, In the grass and in the hedges Trillest thou thy wiry strain.

Harp with clasps of ivory strengthened, Unto thee does not belong; Thine own body is a cithern, Its pulsations make thy song.

In the midnight weird and holy, When the moon is in eclipse, Feedest thou on leaves of moly-- Honeydew-drops steep thy lips.

BOOTH'S RICHARD.

The sceptred Gorgon of the Isles, The fiercest of the kingly brood, Weaves o'er again his deadly wiles, Again appears with flesh indued.

Promethean will uncrushed and calm, His blighted sinews nerved and strung, All foes he met without alarm-- At fiend or god his gauntlet flung.

His spirit was a dark abyss, Its surface glassed with summer smiled; But deep below the dragon hissed, And thoughts like hydras lurked and coiled.

The bright-haired shadows drenched in blood, The stifled Princes sweet and pale, Athwart his dim pavilion strode-- His heart of iron did not quail.

Though from beneath Gehenna stirred, And sent its legions to the fray, The war-cry from his lips was heard, Like blast of bugle far away.

Girt lion-like with countless foes-- On earth, in heaven, without a friend-- With clenching teeth and gathered brows He battled bravely to the end.

'Neath the rainy Equinox, Flooding her dishevelled locks, Lies the Summer dead and cold, With her shroud about her rolled, Like the drowned Ophelia fair, Dripping from the oozy mere; O'er her bleaching corse complain Sighing winds and chilling rain.

Withered fillets, garlands sere, Bind her brow and deck her bier-- Urnlike lilies, violets frail, Faded blossoms of the vale, Thickly strew her loosened hair.

Sorrowing o'er his daughter fair, Sadly bends the stricken Year, To her lips applies his ear; For the voice which long ago Cheered him with its music low, Hearkens he, and for the smile Wont his dotage to beguile, Lifts her drooping lids in vain,-- She will never smile again.

Ravished from their mistress pale, Fly her tresses on the gale; Driving North winds pipe and rave Threnodies about her grave. Bird and leaf forsake the tree-- Sinks to rest the yellow bee; All his labors in the sun, All his airy voyages done; While the squirrel gathers fast Largess of the bough and blast.

Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page

Back to top Use Dark Theme