XXXVI

Lover of trees wert thou, but loved the best
The ancient yew a-muse in gardens old;
Beneath her branches, as the sun rode west,
Came many a dream too fair to quite unfold,
And many a note of sorrow and of glee;
Ineffable fondness seemed 'twixt her and thee.

XXXVII

Was it because, imprisoned in the bole,
Creature of sylvan glades and twilight moods,
A slim, bright girl yearned toward thee in her soul
And lured thee ever back to walk the woods?
If so, thou shouldst have slept, all dreamings past,
Tranquil beneath the shade her leafage cast,
Keeping a solemn tryst, loved to the last.

XXXVIII

But no, another Presence with a cry
Deeper, more constant, drew thee to thy doom,
Haunted thy waking, nixy-like lurked nigh,
Sang requiems of rest within the tomb;
Strong was the tree-call, strong through all thy days,
But still more potent were the waterways.

XXXIX

The waterways are wondrous; rivers, lakes,
And bubbly well-runs in the inner wood,
Each has a voice that merry music makes
Or mournful, by the spirit understood:
Ever the ocean with her organ tones
Sings round the capes, or up the long sand moans.

XL

All the world sang for thee; woodwind and brass
Made tonal harmonies to haunt thine ear;
The thinnest song from out the summer grass,
The tempest's choral-work, and, sphere by sphere,
The stars of God, chanting their rhythm clear,
All, all made music, all to thee were dear.
Woods, winds, and waters, how they drew thy soul,
Up, out, and ever toward its destined goal!

XLI

The water-call for thee was constant lure:
No Undine in a fable heard more sweet
The cool, soft croon, nor better loved the pure
Deep invitation where the mermaids meet.
So wert thou fain thine hours of ease to spend
Upon the bosom of this calling friend.

XLII

False friend and fateful day when thou didst glide
Ghost-like, at twilight, in the tiny boat
Out through the shadows of the eventide
Into the open waters, there to float
And dream: for as thou dream'st, some evil thing
Reached from the waves to seize thy life, and bring
Deep sadness unto all who dream and sing.

XLIII

The ebon trees against the saffron sky
At sunset-time attended thee; the day
Was fading, fading, tranquilly away
And soon the stars would shine serene and high;
Hushed were the waves, the looming woods were ware,
Clad in the half-light, rising mystic there,

XLIV

Of thee and of thy handiwork; Fate drew,
Along with thee, under the shadowy piers
Thy last, lost story-song wherein anew
Was told a legend out of elder years:
Sweet Gold Hair lived and loved beneath the sun;
Not ours but thine is she, till Time be done.

XLV

Fain of the summer thou, so it was meet
That on her midmost day of song and shine
Thy life should cease; surely such end is sweet:
What seemlier close could heart of man divine
Than while the twilight tints ensoul the sky,
Part of the rapture of the sun's good-by,
Swan-like to sing and, singing, so to die?

*****

XLVI

I see two shapes that greet thee on the shore
Whereof the sun shines through eternal time;
Twin lords of Beauty, beautiful to name,
Who make life musical with lovely rime;
Above whatever once they knew of shame,
Despite or agony, they walk and smile,
Princes together, such for evermore.

XLVII

Keats, who like thee died young, and Shelley too
Whom the wide waters swallowed; surely both
Do bid thee welcome, feeling nothing loath
To hail with comrade words and vision true
A fellow singer, one whose flute was tuned
To such a sweetness as to heal death's wound.