Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1878-05-08

BY SIDNEY LANIER.

of literature, that we have pleasure II
transcribing it for the growing numbe
who will be likely to appreciate it
merits.
Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields,
NV large unjealous Loves, many yet one
A grave good-morrow to your Graces, all,
Fair tilth and fruitful seasons
Lo, how still
The midmorn emptiss you Of men, save me
Speak to your lover, meadows! None CA
hear.
l lie as lies yon placid Brsndywine,
Holding the hills and heavens in my heart
For contemplation.
Tis perfect hour
From founts of dawn the fluent autumn day
Has rippled as brook right pleasantly
Halfway TO noon but now with widening turl
Makes pause in lucent meditation locked.
And rounds into a silver pool OF morn,
Bottom'd with clover-felds- Ny heart jus
hears
Eight lingering strokes of some far village
bell.
That speaks the hour SO inwsrd-voiced, me
seems
Times conscience has but whispered hin
eight hints
OF revolution. Reigns that mild surcease
That stills the middle of each rural morn
When nimble noises that with sunrise ran
About the farms again have sunk to rest
When Tom no more across the horse-lot CALI
To sleepy Dick nor Dick husk-yoiced upbrsids
The swsy-bsck'd d roam for stamping on his foo
With sulphurous oath and kick in flank, whs'
time
The cart-chain cinks across the slsnting shaft
And kitchenward. the ratthng bucket plumps
Souse down the we'll where quiyering ducks
quack loud.
And Susan Cook is singing.
Up the SIX,
The hesitating moon slow trembles on,
Faint as a death washed soul but newly up
From out fresh-sod grave. Far round below,
A hundred slopes in hundred fantasies
Most rsvishingly run, so smooth Of curve
That but seem 10 see the fluent plain
Rise toward rain Of cloyer-blooms as lakes
Pout gentle mounds Of plashment up to meer
Descending drops Of shower Small winds
as bees,
Bow down the blooms then wander where
Mat soul and body with the clover-tufts.
Light on my spirit give from wing and thigh
Rich pollens and divine sweet irritants
To every nerve, and freshly make report
OF Natures inmost secret sutumn-thought
Unto some soul OF sense within my frame
That owns each cognizance OF the outlying
five
And sees, hears. tastes, smells, touches, all il
one.
And now, dear Clover (since my soul is thine,
Since am fain give study all the day,
To make thy wsys my ways. thy service mine
To seek me out thy God my God to be-
And die from out myself, to live in thee)-
Now, Cousin Clover, tell me in mine ear
Cost thou to market with thy pink and green
OF what avail. this color and this grace /;
Vert thou but squat Of stem and brindle-brown
Still careless herds would feed A poet. thou:
What worth, what worth, the whole of all thine
art:
Three-Leaves. instruct me l am sick OF
price,
Framed in the arching of two cloyer-stems
Where-through gaze from off my hill afar.
The spacious fields from me to Heaven take on
Tremors of change and new significance
To tn eve, as to the ear a simple tale
Begins to hint parallels sense beneath
The prospect widens. cuts all bounds Of blue
Where horizontal limits bend. and spreads
I,.o a -b,Ilad nd Vast
Endless before, behind. around which seems
tn incalculable Up-and-Down Of Time
Made plain before mine eyes. The clover
stems
Still cover all the space ; but now they bear,
For clover-hlooms. fair, stately heads Of men
With poets faces hesrtsome, dear and pale
Sweet visages of all the souls Of time
Whose loving service to the world has been
in the artists way expressed and bodied
OH
In arms reach, here be Dante. Keats, Chopin,
Raphael, Lucretius. Omar, Angelo,
Beethoven. Chaucer, Schubert, Shakespeare,
Bach.
And Buddha (sweetest masters let me Law
These arms this once, this humble once, about
Your reverend necks-the most containing
clasp.
For all in ALL this world e'er saw ,, and there,
Yet further on, bright things unnamable
OF workers workshipful, nobilities
In the Court Of Gentle Service, silent men.
Dwellers in woods brooders on helpful art.
And al the press of them, the fair, the large.
That wrought with beauty.
Lo, what bulk is here !?
Now comes the Course-of-things. shaped like
snOI,
Slow browsing. DER my hilslide, ponderously-
The huge-brawned, tame and workful Course
of-things.
That hath his grass, if earth be round or fiat,
And hath his grass. if empires plunge in pain
Or faiths fash out This cool, unasking OK
C1mes browsing DER my hills and wales OF
Time,
A nd thrusts me out his tongue, and curls it,
sharp
And sicklewise, about my poets heads,
And twists them in, all-Dante, Keats, Cho-
pin,
Raphael, Lucretius Omar. Angelo,
Chaucer, Schubert, Shakespeare
Bach.
And Buddha, in one shetland champs and
chews,
With slantly-churning jaws, and swallows
down;
Then slowly plants a mighty forefoot out.
And makes advance to futureward. one inch.
So they have played their part
And to this end
This, God This, troublous-breeding Earth
This. Sun
0f hot quick pains ; To this no-end that
ends
These Masters wrought, and wept, and swested
blood,
And burned, and loved, and ached with public
shame,
And found no friends to breath their love to,
Woods and wet pillows This was all : This
Ok?
Nay" quoth q sum Of voices in mine ear,
Gods clover, we, and feed His Course-of-
things;
The pasture is Gods pasture systems strange
)f food and fiberment He hath. whereby,