Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/127

CORDA CONCORDIA O mother Nature, thou who best

Man's heart in all thy ways interpretest!

High thoughts of thee brought near

Unto our minstrel-seer

The antique calm, the Asian wisdom old,

Till in his verse we heard

Of blossom, bee, and bird,

Of mountain crag and pine, the manifold

Rich song,—and on the world his eyes

Dwelt penetrant with vision sweet and wise.

Whence came the silver tongue

To one forever young

Who spoke until our hearts within us burned?

This reverend one, who took

No palimpsest or book,

But read his soul with glances inward turned,

While (her rapt forehead like the dawn)

The Sibyl listened, by that music drawn,

And from her fearless mouth,

Where never speech had drouth,

Gave voice to some old chant of womanhood,—

Her own imaginings, 107