Not Understood and Other Poems/A Winter Lyric

A WINTER LYRIC.

COME, harp of mine      And let’s entwineA love-wreath round thy chords so light;        The storm-sprites rave        O’er vault and grave.The elements are drunk to-night;        Behold the Lord’s        Red flaming swordsFlash scabbardless across the clouds,        And from the deep        The sea-ghosts leapAlong the beach in snowy shrouds,        Then sing with me        A song of glee,My soul is filled with wildest mirth:        ’Tis just the time        To chant and chimeThe praise of our old Mother Earth
  Faithful harp, I feel thy strings    Trembling as my fingers play,  And the wailing wind that sings    Through the crannies joins our lay;  And methinks weird sprites on wings    Hover round the house and say:  “Death alone affection brings—    True love lives in clay to clay.”
  Loving harp! the truth is told,    Mother Earth is true and tried.  In her bosom’s faithful fold    Slumber soundly, side by side. Peer and peasant, young and old,    Slaves of poverty and pride.  Ah! her heart is true as gold,    And her love is deep and wide.
  Harp of mine! again, again    Warm pulsations fondly stray  O’er thy cords—whilst wind and rain    ’Gainst the windows sing and say:  “Woman’s heart is false and vain,    Lovers’ vows are light as spray,  Faithless maid and foolish swain,    True love lives in clay to clay.”
        Then sing with me,        Right merrily,The praises of our Mother kind;        Her heart is pure,        Her love is sure,To all our faults and follies blind.        She gives us rest        Upon her breast,And these poor mortal shells of ours        She purifies,        And we ariseTo live again in buds and flowers.        Then sing with me        A song of glee,My soul is filled with wildest mirth;        ’Tis just the time        To chant and chimeThe praise of our old Mother Earth.