Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/85

 Spake comfort; in his ears the shout of birds Was as the sound of clear sweet-spirited words, The noise of streams as laughter from above Of the old wild lands, and as a cry of love Spring's trumpet-blast blown over moor and lea: The skies were red as love is, and the sea Was as the floor of heaven for love to tread. So went he as with light about his head, And in the joyous travail of the year Grew April-hearted; since nor grief nor fear Can master so a young man's blood so long That it shall move not to the mounting song Of that sweet hour when earth replumes her wings And with fair face and heart set heavenward sings As an awakened angel unaware That feels his sleep fall from him, and his hair By some new breath of wind and music stirred, Till like the sole song of one heavenly bird Sounds all the singing of the host of heaven, And all the glories of the sovereign Seven Are as one face of one incorporate light. And as that host of singers in God's sight Might draw toward one that slumbered, and arouse The lips requickened and rekindling brows, So seemed the earthly host of all things born In sight of spring and eyeshot of the morn, All births of land or waifs of wind and sea, To draw toward him that sorrowed, and set free From presage and remembrance of all pains The life that leapt and lightened in his veins.