Betrayal
THE SUN has kissed the violet sea,
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"Opinion, let me alone: I am not thine.
Prim Creed, with categoric point, forbear
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The Centennial Meditation of Columbia. 1776-1876. A Cantata.
[Musical Annotations, in angled brackets, pr
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"Spring-germs, spring-germs,
I charge you by your life, go back to death.
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"I saw a sky of stars that rolled in grime.
All glory twinkled through some sweat of fight,
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In my sleep I was fain of their fellowship, fain
Of the live-oak, the marsh, and the main.
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"Thou Ship of Earth, with Death, and Birth, and Life, and Sex aboard,
And fires of Desires burning hotly in the hold,
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By the Eldest Grandson.
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The storm hath blown thee a lover, sweet,
And laid him kneeling at thy feet.
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Look where a three-point star shall weave his beam
Into the slumb'rous tissue of some stream,
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Presenting a portrait-bust of the author.
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Sin's rooster's crowed, Ole Mahster's riz,
De sleepin'-time is pas';
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Fine-tissued as her finger-tips, and white
As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize,
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Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly wheeled
Thy plough to ring this solitary tree
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Death, thou'rt a cordial old and rare:
Look how compounded, with what care!
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Als du im Saal mit deiner himmlischen Kunst
Beethoven zeigst, und seinem Willen nach
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Well: Death is a huge omnivorous Toad
Grim squatting on a twilight road.
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So one in heart and thought, I trow,
That thou might'st press the strings and I might draw the bow
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Through all that year-scarred agony of height,
Unblest of bough or bloom, to where expands
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You, Dinah! Come and set me whar de ribber-roads does meet.
De Lord, HE made dese black-jack roots to twis' into a seat.
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Dear Mother-Earth
Of Titan birth,
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If haply thou, O Desdemona Morn,
Shouldst call along the curving sphere, "Remain,
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The Day was dying; his breath
Wavered away in a hectic gleam;
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Oft as I hear thee, wrapt in heavenly art,
The massive message of Beethoven tell
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Frowning, the owl in the oak complained him
Sore, that the song of the robin restrained him
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Time, hurry my Love to me:
Haste, haste! Lov'st not good company?
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The robin laughed in the orange-tree:
"Ho, windy North, a fig for thee:
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In o'er-strict calyx lingering,
Lay music's bud too long unblown,
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Dear friend, forgive a wild lament
Insanely following thy flight
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A white face, drooping, on a bending neck:
A tube-rose that with heavy petal curves
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