28.10.2007, 10:01
THE DIVINING ROD.
HERE some time flowed my springs, and sent a cry
Of joy before them up the shining air,
While morn was new and heaven all blue and bare ;
Here dipped the swallow to a tenderer sky,
And o'er my flowers rose some pure mystery
Of liquid eyes and dusky-glimmering hair ;
For which lo ! now, drought, death, a bright despair,
Shards, choking slag, the world's dust small and dry.
Yet turn not hence thy faithful foot, O thou,
Diviner of my buried life ; pace round
Poising the hazel-rod ; not all too late
The time, sweet pitier ; haply, even now
Stirrings and murmurings of the underground
Prelude the flash and outbreak of my fate.
HERE some time flowed my springs, and sent a cry
Of joy before them up the shining air,
While morn was new and heaven all blue and bare ;
Here dipped the swallow to a tenderer sky,
And o'er my flowers rose some pure mystery
Of liquid eyes and dusky-glimmering hair ;
For which lo ! now, drought, death, a bright despair,
Shards, choking slag, the world's dust small and dry.
Yet turn not hence thy faithful foot, O thou,
Diviner of my buried life ; pace round
Poising the hazel-rod ; not all too late
The time, sweet pitier ; haply, even now
Stirrings and murmurings of the underground
Prelude the flash and outbreak of my fate.