The Zucca
Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring,And infant Winter laughed upon the landAll cloudlessly and cold;--when I, desiringMore in this world than any understand,Wept o'er the beauty, which, like sea retiring,Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sandOf my lorn heart, and o'er the grass and flowersPale for the falsehood of the flattering Hours.
Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weepThe instability of all but weeping;And on the Earth lulled in her winter sleepI woke, and envied her as she was sleeping.Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creepThe wakening vernal airs, until thou, leapingFrom unremembered dreams, shalt ... seeNo death divide thy immortality.
I loved--oh, no, I mean not one of ye,Or any earthly one, though ye are dearAs human heart to human heart may be;--I loved, I know not what--but this low sphereAnd all that it contains, contains not thee,Thou, whom, seen nowhere, I feel everywhere.From Heaven and Earth, and all that in them are,Veiled art thou, like a ... star.
By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest,Neither to be contained, delayed, nor hidden;Making divine the loftiest and the lowest,When for a moment thou art not forbiddenTo live within the life which thou bestowest;And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden,Cold as a corpse after the spirit's flightBlank as the sun after the birth of night.
In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common,In music and the sweet unconscious toneOf animals, and voices which are human,Meant to express some feelings of their own;In the soft motions and rare smile of woman,In flowers and leaves, and in the grass fresh-shown,Or dying in the autumn, I the mostAdore thee present or lament thee lost.
And thus I went lamenting, when I sawA plant upon the river's margin lieLike one who loved beyond his nature's law,And in despair had cast him down to die;Its leaves, which had outlived the frost, the thawHad blighted; like a heart which hatred's eyeCan blast not, but which pity kills; the dewLay on its spotted leaves like tears too true.
The Heavens had wept upon it, but the EarthHad crushed it on her maternal breast
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I bore it to my chamber, and I plantedIt in a vase full of the lightest mould;The winter beams which out of Heaven slantedFell through the window-panes, disrobed of cold,Upon its leaves and flowers; the stars which pantedIn evening for the Day, whose car has rolledOver the horizon's wave, with looks of lightSmiled on it from the threshold of the night.
The mitigated influences of airAnd light revived the plant, and from it grewStrong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair,Full as a cup with the vine's burning dew,O'erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphereOf vital warmth enfolded it anew,And every impulse sent to every partThe unbeheld pulsations of its heart.
Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong,Even if the air and sun had smiled not on it;For one wept o'er it all the winter longTears pure as Heaven's rain, which fell upon itHour after hour; for sounds of softest songMixed with the stringed melodies that won itTo leave the gentle lips on which it slept,Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept.
Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowersOn which he wept, the while the savage stormWaked by the darkest of December's hoursWas raving round the chamber hushed and warm;The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers,The fish were frozen in the pools, the formOf every summer plant was deadWhilst this....
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