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THE POET.
83
Like Indian reeds blown from his silver tongue,
And of so fierce a flight,
From Calpe unto Caucasus they sung,
Filling with light
And of so fierce a flight,
From Calpe unto Caucasus they sung,
Filling with light
And vagrant melodies the winds which bore
Them earthward till they lit;
Then like the arrowseeds of the fieldflower,
The fruitful wit
Them earthward till they lit;
Then like the arrowseeds of the fieldflower,
The fruitful wit
Cleaving took root, and springing forth anew
Where'er they fell, behold
Like to the mother plant in semblance, grew
A flower all gold,
Where'er they fell, behold
Like to the mother plant in semblance, grew
A flower all gold,
And bravely furnished all abroad to fling
The wingéd shafts of truth,
To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring
Of Hope and Youth.
The wingéd shafts of truth,
To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring
Of Hope and Youth.
