At Dawn
O
Hesper-Phosphor,
far
away
Shining,
the
first,
the
last
white
star,
Hear’st
thou
the
strange,
the
ghostly
cry,
That
moan
of
an
ancient
agony
From
purple
forest
to
golden
sky
Shivering
over
the
breathless
bay?
It
is
not
the
wind
that
wakes
with
the
day;
For
see,
the
gulls
that
wheel
and
call,
Beyond
the
tumbling
white-topped
bar,
Catching
the
sun-dawn
on
their
wings,
Like
snow-flakes
or
like
rose-leaves
fall,
Flutter
and
fall
in
airy
rings;
And
drift,
like
lilies
ruffling
into
blossom
Upon
a
golden
lake’s
unwrinkled
bosom.
Are
not
the
forest’s
deep-lashed
fringes
wet
With
tears?
Is
not
the
voice
of
all
regret
Breaking
out
of
the
dark
earth’s
heart?
She
too,
she
too,
has
loved
and
lost;
and
we—
We
that
remember
our
lost
Arcady,
Have
we
not
known,
we
too,
The
primal
greenwood’s
arch
of
blue,
The
radiant
clouds
at
sunrise
curled
Around
the
brows
of
the
golden
world;
The
marble
temples,
washed
with
dew,
To
which
with
rosy
limbs
aflame
The
violet-eyed
Thalassian
came,
Came
pitiless,
only
to
display
How
soon
the
youthful
splendour
dies
away;
Came,
only
to
depart
Laughing
across
the
gray-grown
bitter
sea?
For
each
man’s
life
is
earth’s
epitome,
And
though
the
years
bring
more
than
aught
they
take,
Yet
might
his
heart
and
hers
well
break
Remembering
how
one
prayer
must
still
be
vain,
How
one
fair
hope
is
dead,
One
passion
quenched,
one
glory
fled,
With
those
first
loves
that
never
come
again.
How
many,
how
many
generations,
Have
heard
that
sigh
in
the
dawn,
When
the
dark
earth
yearns
to
the
unforgotten
nations
And
the
old
loves
withdrawn,
Old
loves,
old
lovers,
wonderful
and
unnumbered
As
waves
on
the
wine-dark
sea,
’Neath
the
tall
white
towers
of
Troy
and
the
temples
that
slumbered;
In
Thessaly?
From
the
beautiful
palaces,
from
the
miraculous
portals,
The
swift
white
feet
are
flown!
They
were
taintless
of
dust,
the
proud,
the
peerless
Immortals
As
they
sped
to
their
loftier
throne!
Perchance
they
are
there,
earth
dreams,
on
the
shores
of
Hesper,
Her
rosy-bosomed
Hours,
Listening
the
wild
fresh
forest’s
enchanted
whisper,
Crowned
with
its
new
strange
flowers;
Listening
the
great
new
ocean’s
triumphant
thunder
On
the
stainless
unknown
shore,
While
that
perilous
queen
of
the
world’s
delight
and
wonder
Comes
white
from
the
foam
once
more.
When
the
mists
divide
with
the
dawn
o’er
those
glittering
waters,
Do
they
gaze
over
unoared
seas—
Naiad
and
nymph
and
the
woodland’s
rose-crowned
daughters
And
the
Oceanides?
Do
they
sing
together,
perchance,
in
that
diamond
splendour,
That
world
of
dawn
and
dew,
With
eyelids
twitching
to
tears
and
with
eyes
grown
tender,
The
sweet
old
songs
they
knew,
The
songs
of
Greece?
Ah,
with
harp-strings
mute
do
they
falter
As
the
earth
like
a
small
star
pales?
When
the
heroes
launch
their
ship
by
the
smoking
altar
Does
a
memory
lure
their
sails?
Far,
far
away,
do
their
hearts
resume
the
story
That
never
on
earth
was
told,
When
all
those
urgent
oars
on
the
waste
of
glory
Cast
up
its
gold?
Are
not
the
forest
fringes
wet
With
tears?
Is
not
the
voice
of
all
regret
Breaking
out
of
the
dark
earth’s
heart?
She
too,
she
too,
has
loved
and
lost;
and
though
She
turned
last
night
in
disdain
Away
from
the
sunset-embers,
From
her
soul
she
can
never
depart;
She
can
never
depart
from
her
pain.
Vainly
she
strives
to
forget;
Beautiful
in
her
woe,
She
awakes
in
the
dawn
and
remembers.
