Classic Poem

Beyond a hill and a river,
Within a tower of stone,
A Princess by a casement
Dreamed, sitting still, alone.

Her golden hair hung heavy
Over her kirtle green;
Her eyes were blue and lonely,
Her tender mouth had been.

A joy for splendid kisses,
It was so red, so red;
But it was parted in singing,
And, beginning her song, she said:

" Three songs in my spirit:
Elusive, tremulous, light.
If you can feel their tremor,
This gift is spended aright. "

Without in the silent garden
The sunflowers dozed in the sun,
Bees blackened their tawny faces,
Their heads drooped one by one.

Amid a stilly fig-tree,
Hidden from sun and sight,
A nightingale sang over
The songs that rejoice the night.

And browsing upon sweet grasses
In the fair solitude,
Half in sun, half in shadow,
A lordly bay stag stood.

Upon earth all was silent
Save when the hid bird sung;
In the dark blue afternoon heavens
A silent half-moon hung.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As she commenced singing,
The nightingale stopped. In the dead
Silence the leaves flicked softly;
The great stag turned his head.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Thus sung she alone, and only
The stag, the fig-tree, the bird
And pensive moon in the darkling heavens
Her lovely singing heard.

And as she finished singing,
She bowed her golden head
Low, O low, on her shaking bosom,
And, ending her song, she said:

" Three songs in my spirit:
Elusive, tremulous, light.
You have felt their tremor;
This gift is spended aright. "

The nightingale lifted her voice up,
The moon fled out of the skies,
The fig-tree split, and two tears rolled
Out of the great stag's eyes.

Now, when she had done singing,
She closed her eyes, and her breath
Went out as she lay down backward
And folded her hands in death.