Hervey White
Last night the full moon laid a cloth of whiteWithin my window, spread upon my bed,And, with her old-time splendor, asked of meTo share her harvest supper. I arose,And stepped without to pay my greetings. When, Behold!The old world flowered again, as it had doneWhen I was twenty, at the gate of life;The meadows held untouched their virgin bloom,The darkling trees with gleaming leaves flashed bright,Dewy and pendant till the waiting morn;The shadows lay like cool soft soothing handsUpon the pastures pulsing with sweet June:I, too, was young again, and God was just,And through my blood propelled great future acts—Big things to do, and thoughts, and voice to speak—So potent was the charm of my white queen.It was not till I walked for many miles,And came back weary to my quiet room,That I had once more taken back my years,My cares, my listlessness, and stagnant grief.And, even as I sit in full faced day,My memory faintly shadows out this song.
Last night the full moon laid a cloth of whiteWithin my window, spread upon my bed,And, with her old-time splendor, asked of meTo share her harvest supper. I arose,And stepped without to pay my greetings. When, Behold!The old world flowered again, as it had doneWhen I was twenty, at the gate of life;The meadows held untouched their virgin bloom,The darkling trees with gleaming leaves flashed bright,Dewy and pendant till the waiting morn;The shadows lay like cool soft soothing handsUpon the pastures pulsing with sweet June:I, too, was young again, and God was just,And through my blood propelled great future acts—Big things to do, and thoughts, and voice to speak—So potent was the charm of my white queen.It was not till I walked for many miles,And came back weary to my quiet room,That I had once more taken back my years,My cares, my listlessness, and stagnant grief.And, even as I sit in full faced day,My memory faintly shadows out this song.
Last night the full moon laid a cloth of whiteWithin my window, spread upon my bed,And, with her old-time splendor, asked of meTo share her harvest supper. I arose,And stepped without to pay my greetings. When, Behold!The old world flowered again, as it had doneWhen I was twenty, at the gate of life;The meadows held untouched their virgin bloom,The darkling trees with gleaming leaves flashed bright,Dewy and pendant till the waiting morn;The shadows lay like cool soft soothing handsUpon the pastures pulsing with sweet June:I, too, was young again, and God was just,And through my blood propelled great future acts—Big things to do, and thoughts, and voice to speak—So potent was the charm of my white queen.It was not till I walked for many miles,And came back weary to my quiet room,That I had once more taken back my years,My cares, my listlessness, and stagnant grief.And, even as I sit in full faced day,My memory faintly shadows out this song.
Last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
Within my window, spread upon my bed,
And, with her old-time splendor, asked of me
To share her harvest supper. I arose,
And stepped without to pay my greetings. When, Behold!
The old world flowered again, as it had done
When I was twenty, at the gate of life;
The meadows held untouched their virgin bloom,
The darkling trees with gleaming leaves flashed bright,
Dewy and pendant till the waiting morn;
The shadows lay like cool soft soothing hands
Upon the pastures pulsing with sweet June:
I, too, was young again, and God was just,
And through my blood propelled great future acts—
Big things to do, and thoughts, and voice to speak—
So potent was the charm of my white queen.
It was not till I walked for many miles,
And came back weary to my quiet room,
That I had once more taken back my years,
My cares, my listlessness, and stagnant grief.
And, even as I sit in full faced day,
My memory faintly shadows out this song.
I saw the clouds among the hillsTrailing their plumes of rainy gray.The purple of the woods behindFell down to where the valley layIn sweet satiety of rain,With ripened fruit, and full filled grain.I saw the graves, upon the plain,Of pioneers, who took the land,And tamed the stubborn elementsTill they were gentle to the hand.Their children, now in fortune’s ways,Dwell in their father’s palaces.I saw some old forgotten lays;And treasured volumes I passed by.They were but repetitions cheapFor any hucksterer to buy.The clouds, the graves, the worn old song,I bear them in my heart along.
I saw the clouds among the hillsTrailing their plumes of rainy gray.The purple of the woods behindFell down to where the valley layIn sweet satiety of rain,With ripened fruit, and full filled grain.I saw the graves, upon the plain,Of pioneers, who took the land,And tamed the stubborn elementsTill they were gentle to the hand.Their children, now in fortune’s ways,Dwell in their father’s palaces.I saw some old forgotten lays;And treasured volumes I passed by.They were but repetitions cheapFor any hucksterer to buy.The clouds, the graves, the worn old song,I bear them in my heart along.
I saw the clouds among the hillsTrailing their plumes of rainy gray.The purple of the woods behindFell down to where the valley layIn sweet satiety of rain,With ripened fruit, and full filled grain.
I saw the clouds among the hills
Trailing their plumes of rainy gray.
The purple of the woods behind
Fell down to where the valley lay
In sweet satiety of rain,
With ripened fruit, and full filled grain.
I saw the graves, upon the plain,Of pioneers, who took the land,And tamed the stubborn elementsTill they were gentle to the hand.Their children, now in fortune’s ways,Dwell in their father’s palaces.
I saw the graves, upon the plain,
Of pioneers, who took the land,
And tamed the stubborn elements
Till they were gentle to the hand.
Their children, now in fortune’s ways,
Dwell in their father’s palaces.
I saw some old forgotten lays;And treasured volumes I passed by.They were but repetitions cheapFor any hucksterer to buy.The clouds, the graves, the worn old song,I bear them in my heart along.
I saw some old forgotten lays;
And treasured volumes I passed by.
They were but repetitions cheap
For any hucksterer to buy.
The clouds, the graves, the worn old song,
I bear them in my heart along.