I know that sunshine, through whatever | Slept and its shadow slept; the wooden rift So mused I once within my willow-tent One brave June morning, when the bluff northwest, Thrusting aside a dank and snuffling day That made us bitter at our neighbors' sins, bridge Thundered, and then was silent; on the roofs The sun-warped shingles rippled with the heat; Summer on field and hill, in heart and brain, All life washed clean in this high tide of June. DARA. WHEN Persia's sceptre trembled in a hand Wilted with harem-heats, and all the land Was hovered over by those vulture ills That snuff decaying empire from afar, Then, with a nature balanced as a star, Dara arose, a shepherd of the hills. He who had governed fleecy subjects well Made his own village by the selfsame spell Secure and quiet as a guarded fold ; Then, gathering strength by slow and wise degrees Under his sway, to neighbor villages Order returned, and faith and justice old. Brimmed the great cup of heaven with Now when it fortuned that a king more sparkling cheer And roared a lusty stave; the sliding Charles, Blue toward the west, and bluer and more blue, Living and lustrous as a woman's eyes Look once and look no more, with southward curve Ran crinkling sunniness, like Helen's hair Glimpsed in Elysium, insubstantial gold; From blossom-clouded orchards, far wise Endued the realm with brain and hands and eyes, He sought on every side men brave and just; And having heard our mountain shep- So Dara shepherded a province wide, Nor in his viceroy's sceptre took more pride Than in his crook before; but envy finds More food in cities than on mountains bare; And the frank sun of natures clear and rare Breeds poisonous fogs in low and marish minds. "WHAT fairings will ye that I bring?" Said the King to his daughters three ; "For I to Vanity Fair am boun, Now say what shall they be? Then up and spake the eldest daughter, Thereafter spake the second daughter, And a gold comb for my head." Then came the turn of the least daughter, That was whiter than thistle-down, And among the gold of her blithesome hair Dim shone the golden crown. II. He mounted and rode three days and nights Till he came to Vanity Fair, And 't was easy to buy the gems and the silk, But no Singing Leaves were there. Then deep in the greenwood rode he, But the trees all kept their counsel, Only the pattering aspen Made a sound of growing rain, That fell ever faster and faster, Then faltered to silence again. "O, where shall I find a little foot-page That would win both hose and shoon, And will bring to me the Singing Leaves If they grow under the moon?" Then lightly turned him Walter the page, By the stirrup as he ran : Now pledge you me the truesome word Of a king and gentleman, "That you will give me the first, first thing You meet at your castle-gate, And the Princess shall get the Singing Leaves, Or mine be a traitor's fate." The King's head dropt upon his breast Then Walter took from next his heart The Singing Leaves are therein." III. And said, "Thou shalt have thy As the King rode in at his castle-gate, leaves." A maiden to meet him ran, And "Welcome, father!" she laughed | And all the mint and anise that I pay But swells my debt and deepens my self-blame. and cried Together, the Princess Anne. "Lo, here the Singing Leaves," quoth he, "And woe, but they cost me dear!" She took the packet, and the smile Deepened down beneath the tear. It deepened down till it reached her heart, And then gushed up again, And the first Leaf, when it was opened, And the second Leaf sang: "But in the land That is neither on earth or sea, My lute and I are lords of more Than thrice this kingdom's fee." And the third Leaf sang, "Be mine! "Be mine!" |