Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/444

But no: it is made: list! somewhere, mystery, where? In the leaves? in the air? In my heart? is a motion made: T is a motion of dawn, like a flicker of shade on shade. In the leaves t is palpable: low multitudinous stirring Upwinds through the woods; the little ones, softly conferring, Have settled my lord s to be looked for; so; they are still; But the air and my heart and the earth are a-thrill, And look where the wild duck sails round the bend of the river, And look where a passionate shiver Expectant is bending the blades Of the marsh-grass in serial shimmers and shades, And invisible wings, fast fleeting, fast fleeting, Are beating The dark overhead as my heart beats, and steady and free Is the ebb-tide flowing from marsh to sea (Run home, little streams, With your lapfuls of stars and dreams), And a sailor unseen is hoisting a-peak, For list, down the inshore curve of the creek How merrily flutters the sail, And lo, in the East! Will the East unveil? The East is unveiled, the East hath confessed A flush: t is dead; t is alive; t is dead, ere the West Was aware of it: nay, t is abiding, t is withdrawn: Have a care, sweet Heaven! T is Dawn. Now a dream of a flame through that dream of a flush is up- rolled: To the zenith ascending, a dome of undazzling gold Is builded, in shape as a beehive, from out of the sea: The hive is of gold undazzling, but oh, the Bee, The star-fed Bee, the build-fire Bee,