  By a dim shore where water darkening Took the last light of spring, I went beyond the tumult, hearkening For some diviner thing. Where the bats flew from the black elms like leaves, Over the ebon pool Brooded the bittern’s cry, as one that grieves Lands ancient, bountiful. I saw the fireflies shine below the wood, Above the shallows dank, As Uriel from some great altitude, The planets rank on rank. And now unseen along the shrouded mead One went under the hill; He blew a cadence on his mellow reed, That trembled and was still. It seemed as if a line of amber fire Had shot the gathered dusk, As if had blown a wind from ancient Tyre Laden with myrrh and musk. He gave his luring note amid the fern; Its enigmatic fall Haunted the hollow dusk with golden turn And argent interval. I could not know the message that he bore, The springs of life from me Hidden; his incommunicable lore As much a mystery. And as I followed far the magic player He passed the maple wood, And when I passed the stars had risen there, And there was solitude. |
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