  Found Solitary Among the Hills I O pansy-violet, With early April wet, How frail and lone you look Lost in this sylvan nook Of heaven-holding hills: Down which the hurrying rills Fling scrolls of melodies; O'er which the birds and bees Weave gossamers of song, Invisible, but strong: Sweet music-webs they spin To snare the spirit in. II O pansy-violet, Unto your face I set My lips, and—do you speak? Or is it but some freak Of fancy, love imparts Through you unto the heart's Desire? whispering low A secret none may know But me, who sit and dream Here by this forest-stream. III O pansy-violet, O wilding floweret, Hued like some dÆdal gem Starring the diadem Of fay or sylvan sprite, Who, in the woods, all night Is busy with the blooms, Young leaves and wild perfumes, Through you I seem t' have seen All that our dreams may mean. IV O pansy-violet, Long, long ago we met— 'Twas in a Fairy tale: Two children in a vale Sat underneath the stars, Far from the world of wars: Each loved the other well: Her eyes were like the spell Of dusk and dawning skies— The purple dark that dyes The midnight: his were blue As heaven the day shines through. V O pansy-violet, What is this vague regret, This yearning, so like tears, That touches me through years Long past, when myth and fable In all strange things were able To beautify the Earth, Things of immortal worth?— This longing, that to me Is like a memory, Lived long ago, of two Fair forest children who Loved with no mortal love; Whom heaven smiled above, Fostering; and when they died Laid side by loving side. VI O pansy-violet, Do you remember yet That wood-god-guarded tomb, Out of whose moss your bloom Sprang, with three petals wan As are the eyes of dawn; And two as darkly deep As are the eyes of sleep? VII O flower,—that seems to hold Some memory of old, A hope, a happiness, At which I can but guess,— You are a sign to me Of immortality: Through you my spirit sees The deathless purposes Of death, that still evolves The beauty it resolves; The change that still fulfils Life's meaning as God wills. |
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