Her slender song of silv’ry throat
Steers way way high its cloud-break note.
If sun could hear he’d faint his light
Till her noon voice was lone thing bright.
I fail, I fall, I’m drowned in song,
And still alive, my heart beats strong!
I’m giant glad, I’m shrunk with ache,
My lifted mind swept in her wake!
Now sliding softly, down she fares,
Till almost manly tones she dares,
Though soft as hers has no man known,
While inside me is silent moan.
Now trip, tra-la, up-gallops she,
And springing I—her trip can see!
Her song’s the car, her voice the whip
That speeds the steeds of her far trip!
I ride and glide upon her sound,
At once half lost and wholly found!
The valley where at last we stop
‘S a mountain-peak, and I’m on top!
Now boosting off, and farther still,
She soars along with her great will,
And soars and clasps, beyond the sky,
The ideal love which does not die,
Where, magnified in all its worth
Is man-made life on man-made earth—
A solo-bodied dream within
That says to me, “It’s yours to win!”
Then up and on and up it goes,
That high rare note that has no close,
Till in some dark of deepest night
Down beams the star of my soul’s height!
Quiet, quiet, around, about;
The audience too stunned to shout.
My flowers fair I toss, they land,
And soft, then loud, a mighty hand!