The
Face in the Stream
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THE
sunburnt face in the willow shade
To the face in the water-mirror said,
"O deep mysterious face in the stream,
Art thou myself or am I thy dream?"
And the face deep down in the water's side
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| To the
face in the upper air replied,
"I am thy dream, thou poor worn face,
And this is thy heart's abiding place.
"Too much in the world, come back and be
Once more my dream-fellow with me,
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"In the far-off untarnished years
Before thy furrows were washed with tears,
"Or ever thy serious creature eyes
Were aged with a mist of memories.
"Hast thou forgotten the long ago
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In
the garden where I used to flow,
"Among
the hills, with the maple tree
And the roses blowing over me ?—
"I who am now but a wraith of this river,
Forsaken of thee forever and ever,
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"Who then was shine image fair, forecast
In the heart of the water rimpling past!
"Out
in the wide of the summer zone
I lulled and allured thee apart and alone,
"The
azure gleam and the golden croon
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And
the grass with the flaky roses strewn.
"There
you would lie and lean above me,
The more you lingered the more to love me,
"Till
I became, as the year grew old,
Thy fairest day-dream's fashion and mould,
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"Deep
in the water twilight there
Smiling, elusive, wonderful, fair,
"The
beautiful visage of thy clear soul
Set in eternity's limpid shoal,
"Thy
spirit's countenance, the trace
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Of
dawning God in the human face.
"And
when yellow leaves came down
Through the silent mornings one by one
"To
the frosty meadow, as they fell
Thy pondering heart said, 'All is well
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"'Aye, all is best, for I stake my life
Beyond the boundaries of strife,'
"And
then thy feet returned no more,—
While years went over the garden floor,
"With
frost and maple, with rose and dew,
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In
the world thy river wandered through;—
"Came
never again to revive and recall
Thy youth from its water burial.
"But
now thy face is battle-dark;
The strife of the world has graven a mark
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"About the lips that are no more mine,
Too sweet to forget, too strong to repine.
"With
the ends of the earth for thy garden now,
What solace and what reward hast thou?
"Then
he of the earth's sun-traversed side
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To
him of the under-world replied,
"O
glad mysterious face in the stream,
My lost illusion, my summer dream,
"Thou
fairer self of a fonder time,
A far imperishable clime,
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"For thy dear sake I have fared alone
And fronted failure and housed with none.
"What
youth was that, when the world was green,
In the lovely mythus Greek and clean,
"Was
doomed with his flowery kin to bide,
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A
blown white star by the river side,
"And
no more follow the sun, foot free
Too long enamoured of one like thee?
"Shall
God who abides in the patient flower,
The painted dust sustained by his power,
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"Refuse to the wing of the dragonfly
His sanction over the open sky,—
"A
frail detached and wandering thing
Torn loose from the blossomy life of spring?
"And
this is man, the myriad one,
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Dust's
flower and time's ephemeron.
"And
I who have followed the wander-list
For a glimpse of beauty, a wraith in the mist,
"Shall
be spilt at last and return to peace,
As dust which the hands of the wind release.
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"This is my solace and my reward,
Who have drained life's dregs from a broken shard."
Wise
and grave was the water face,
A youth grown man in a little space;
While
the wayworn face by the river side
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Grew
gentler-lipped and shadowy-eyed;
For
he heard like a sea-horn summoning him
That sound from the world's end vast and dim,
Where
the river went wandering out so far
Through a gate in the mountain left ajar,
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The sea birds love and the land birds flee,
The large bleak voice of the burly sea. |
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