Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 139 pages of information about Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems.

White shapes flit to and fro
  From mast to mast; 10
They feel the distant tempest
  That nears them fast: 
Great rocks are straight ahead,
  Great shoals not past;
They shout to one another
  Upon the blast.

Oh, soft the streams drop music
  Between the hills,
And musical the birds’ nests
  Beside those rills:  20
The nests are types of home
  Love-hidden from ills,
The nests are types of spirits
  Love-music fills.

So dream the sleepers,
  Each man in his place;
The lightning shows the smile
  Upon each face: 
The ship is driving, driving,
  It drives apace:  30
And sleepers smile, and spirits
  Bewail their case.

The lightning glares and reddens
  Across the skies;
It seems but sunset
  To those sleeping eyes. 
When did the sun go down
  On such a wise? 
From such a sunset
  When shall day arise? 40

‘Wake,’ call the spirits: 
  But to heedless ears: 
They have forgotten sorrows
  And hopes and fears;
They have forgotten perils
  And smiles and tears;
Their dream has held them long,
  Long years and years.

‘Wake,’ call the spirits again: 
  But it would take 50
A louder summons
  To bid them awake. 
Some dream of pleasure
  For another’s sake;
Some dream, forgetful
  Of a lifelong ache.

One by one slowly,
  Ah, how sad and slow! 
Wailing and praying
  The spirits rise and go:  60
Clear stainless spirits
  White as white as snow;
Pale spirits, wailing
  For an overthrow.

One by one flitting,
  Like a mournful bird
Whose song is tired at last
  For no mate is heard. 
The loving voice is silent,
  The useless word; 70
One by one flitting
  Sick with hope deferred.

Driving and driving,
  The ship drives amain: 
While swift from mast to mast
  Shapes flit again,
Flit silent as the silence
  Where men lie slain;
Their shadow cast upon the sails
  Is like a stain. 80

No voice to call the sleepers,
  No hand to raise: 
They sleep to death in dreaming,
  Of length of days. 
Vanity of vanities,
  The Preacher says: 
Vanity is the end
  Of all their ways.

FROM HOUSE TO HOME

The first was like a dream through summer heat,
  The second like a tedious numbing swoon,
While the half-frozen pulses lagged to beat
  Beneath a winter moon.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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