25.06.2007, 09:53
To M. W., on her Birthday
Maiden! when such a soul as thine is born,
The morning stars their ancient music make,
And, joyful, once again their song awake,
Long silent now with melancholy scorn;
And thou, not mindless of so blest a morn,
By no least deed its harmony shalt break,
But shalt to that high chime thy footsteps take,
Through life’s most darksome passes unforlorn:
Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt not fall,
Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and free,
And in thine every motion musical
As summer-air, majestic as the sea,
A mystery to those who creep and crawl
Through Time, and part it from Eternity!
Maiden! when such a soul as thine is born,
The morning stars their ancient music make,
And, joyful, once again their song awake,
Long silent now with melancholy scorn;
And thou, not mindless of so blest a morn,
By no least deed its harmony shalt break,
But shalt to that high chime thy footsteps take,
Through life’s most darksome passes unforlorn:
Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt not fall,
Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and free,
And in thine every motion musical
As summer-air, majestic as the sea,
A mystery to those who creep and crawl
Through Time, and part it from Eternity!