Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/128

CORDA CONCORDIA Like swift, resplendent things,

Flashing from eyes that knew to beam or brood.

What sought these shining ones? What thought

From preacher-saint have poet and teacher caught?

In scorn of meaner use,

Anon, the young recluse

Builded his hut beside the woodland lake,

And set the world far off,

Though with no will to scoff,

Thus from the Earth's near breast fresh life to take.

Against her bosom, heart to heart,

All Nature's sweets he ravished for his Art.

The soul's fine instrument,

Of pains and raptures blent,

Replied to these clear voices, tone for tone,

Their cadence answering

With tuneful sounds that wing

The upper air a few perchance have known,

The stormless empyrean, where

In strength and joy a few move unaware.

Ah, even thus the thrill

Of life beyond life's ill 108