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Read Ebook: Gutenberg and the Art of Printing by Pearson Emily C Emily Clemens
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Ebook has 61 lines and 2923 words, and 2 pages
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THE DAWN PATROL 7
THE JOY OF FLYING 9
THE CRASH 11
THE NIGHT RAID 13
DESPAIR 18
THE HORRORS OF FLYING 19
DREAMS OF AUTUMN 24
TO CARLTON BERRY 25
LONDON IN MAY 26
A FALLEN LEAF 27
THE STAR 28
ISLINGTON 29
THE COUNTRY BEAUTIFUL 30
CHELSEA 31
K. L. H. 32
THE FRINGE OF HEAVEN 33
THREE TRIOLETS 34
CLOUD THOUGHTS 35
AUTUMN REGRETS 36
TO HILDA 38
CLOUDS 39
Sometimes I fly at dawn above the sea, Where, underneath, the restless waters flow-- Silver, and cold, and slow. Dim in the East there burns a new-born sun, Whose rosy gleams along the ripples run, Save where the mist droops low, Hiding the level loneliness from me.
And now appears beneath the milk-white haze A little fleet of anchored ships, which lie In clustered company, And seem as they are yet fast bound by sleep, Although the day has long begun to peep, With red-inflam?d eye, Along the still, deserted ocean ways.
The fresh, cold wind of dawn blows on my face As in the sun's raw heart I swiftly fly, And watch the seas glide by. Scarce human seem I, moving through the skies, And far removed from warlike enterprise-- Like some great gull on high Whose white and gleaming wings beat on through space.
Then do I feel with God quite, quite alone, High in the virgin morn, so white and still, And free from human ill: My prayers transcend my feeble earth-bound plaints-- As though I sang among the happy Saints With many a holy thrill-- As though the glowing sun were God's bright Throne.
My flight is done. I cross the line of foam That breaks around a town of grey and red, Whose streets and squares lie dead Beneath the silent dawn--then am I proud That England's peace to guard I am allowed;-- Then bow my humble head, In thanks to Him Who brings me safely home.
When heavy on my tired mind The world, and worldly things, do weigh, And some sweet solace I would find, Into the sky I love to stray, And, all alone, to wander round In lone seclusion from the ground.
Ah! Then what solitude is mine-- From grovelling mankind aloof! Their road is but a thin-drawn line: Their busy house a scarce-seen roof. That little stain of red and brown They boast about!--It is their town!
How small their petty quarrels seem! Poor, crawling multitudes below; Which, like the ants, in feverish stream From place to place move to and fro! Like ants they work: like ants they fight, Assuming blindly they are right.
Soon their existence I forget, In joy that on these flashing wings I cleave the skies--O! let them fret-- Now know I why the skylark sings Untrammelled in the boundless air-- For mine it is his bliss to share!
Now do I mount a billowy cloud, Now do I sail low o'er a hill, And with a seagull's skill endowed Circle, and wheel, and drop at will-- Above the villages asleep, Above the valleys, shadowed deep,
Above the water-meadows green Whose streams, which intermingled flow, Like silver lattice-work are seen A-gleam upon the plain below-- Above the woods, whose naked trees Move new-born buds upon the breeze.
And far away above the haze I see white mountain-summits rise, Whose snow with sunlight is ablaze And shines against the distant skies. Such thoughts those towering ranges bring That I float on a-wondering!
So do I love to travel on Through lonely skies, myself alone; For then the feverish fret is gone Which on this earth I oft have known. Kind is the God who lets me fly In sweet seclusion through the sky!
The rich, red blood Doth stain the fair, green grass, and daisies white In generous flood ... This sun-drowsed day for me is darkest night. O! wreck of splintered wood and twisted wire, What blind, unmeasured hatred you inspire Because yours was the power that life to end ... Of him, who was my friend!
This morn we lay upon the grass, And watched the languid hours pass; A lark, deep in the sky's blue sea, Sang ecstasies to him and me.
And with the daisies did he play, As on the waving grass we lay, And made a little daisy chain To bring his childhood back again.
And while he watched the clouds above He drifted into thoughts of love. He said, "I know why skylarks sing-- Because they love, and it is Spring.
And if I had a voice as they, So would I sing this golden May, Because I love, and loved am I, And when I wander through the sky,
I wish I had a skylark's voice, And with such singing could rejoice. Oh, happy, happy, are these days! My heart is full of deep-felt praise,
And thanks to God who brings this bliss! Oh! what a happiness is this-- To lie upon the grass and know In two short days that I shall go
And see my Love's fair face again, And wander in some flowery lane, Forgetting all the world around, And only knowing I have found
A Spring enchantment, which is mine Through God's sweet sympathy divine, ... May these two days now swiftly pass!" He laughed upon the sunlit grass.
The days have passed, but passed, alas! how slow! See down the road a sad procession go! Oh! hear the wailing music moan! Why? Why such grief am I to know? Dear God! I wish I were alone. For by the grave a girl with streaming eyes Doth make mine dim. While high among the sunny springtime skies, The larks still hymn.
Around me broods the dim, mysterious Night, Star-lit and still. No whisper comes across the Plain, Asleep beneath the breezes light, Which scarcely stir the growing grain. Slow chimes the quiet midnight hour In some unseen and distant tower, While round me broods the vague, mysterious Night, Star-lit, and cool, and still.
And I must desecrate this silent time Of drowsy dreams! On mighty wings towards the sky, Towards the stars, I have to climb And o'er the sleeping country fly, And such far-echoing clamour make That all the villages must wake. So must I desecrate this quiet time Of soft and drowsy dreams!
The hour comes ... soon must I say farewell To this fair earth. Then to my little room I go Where I perhaps no more shall dwell. Shall I return?--The Gods but know. Perchance again I shall not sleep On that white bed in silence deep. For soon the hour comes to say farewell To this fair, friendly earth.
I stand there long, before into the gloom I take my way. There are the pictures of my friends And all the treasures of my room On which my lamp soft radiance sends. And long with lingering gaze I look Upon each much belov?d book. I stand, and dream--before into the gloom I sadly take my way.
And now I gain the field whence I must part Upon my quest. My Pegasus of wood and steel Is ready straining at the start. The governor is at the wheel-- And, with an ever-growing roar, Across the hidden fields we soar. So, with one envious look from Earth I part Upon my midnight quest.
Beneath me lies the sleeping countryside Hazy and dim, And here and there a little gleam, Like stars upon the heavens wide, Speaks of some wretch who cannot dream-- But on his bed all night must toss And hear me as I pass across, In droning flight above the countryside, Hazy, and huge, and dim.
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