Luna’s Lunar Adventure
Oft have I gazed upon the ever-opening flower
Of the meadows and woods, and seen in its radiance
The beauty of the world. Yet, in my dreams, I go
Back to the dreams of childhood, and feel in my heart
A longing for once again to gaze on the scenery,
To wander through fields and bathe in the sunlight,
To view the changing clouds as they drift slowly by,
While taking a gentle stroll in their company.
And thus I become a child, and lapse back again
Into the old days when under the trees, in shade
And in sunlight, I played and sported with my loved ones,
By the lakes and the rivers, in winter and in spring,
Till, at length, the mournful change of friendships and love,
Throwing darkness upon my heart, restlessness stilling,
Propelled me from home, with my burden of grief,
To seek in the thousand wonders of Nature—
The ocean, the skies, the rocks, the flowers, the birds,
The beasts of the field, the creeping things of the earth—
Soothing balm for my sorrow. But everywhere found
The patient, ever-watchful eye of loneliness,
And under the blue, as I wandered forlorn,
Yearned to go to my home still, as endlessly I roamed.
Thus did I consecrate myself into a life
Of study, and day-dream, and contemplating
With all ardor innocence, beauty, and loveliness—
Each being as apart, with its own unitary
Heart, its individuality. Nature’s great plan
I absorbed piece by piece, expanded wider and broader,
While the flowers and the birds, and the trees, beasts and rocks,
Seemed lovingly—said things, or made gestures,
To greet me as a kind like with like, till at length
The sensual overnourished being who seldom had gone
Far beyond the limitations of childish imaginings;
Whose struggles and movements had been real, without sight,
Separated from the larger life of the universe,
Rejoined itself; the heart, throb throbbing along
With change and with breath of the high, abiding mind:
And thus, not alone, not apart from man without,
Did I experience pleasure divine. Yet, even here,
In these hours that are ever-moving, and never rest,
That pass quietly on till each one—an angel—
Flies away into middle eternity,
There comes a longing sometimes,
A passion after an unreality and a dream.
I see the world thus serenely, and yet from the place,
From far and remote, calm and blessed, celestial;
I read my life thus calmly, discerning, yet living;
And yet I feel as yet some unnameable trouble
That is never defined, never finished, but spreads
A cloud on the joy of my solitude and peace.
Yes, I dream, O ye earthfolk—yes, I dream
Of what I do not possess: in the twilight’s
Gently steeping purple I dream of fields and foliage,
Of the joy of Spring-time and Summer’s bright gladness,
Of forests and shrubs, of flowers and beasts without number,
And of people where you dwell—the tones and the colors
Of your houses, of gardens, of landscapes picturesque,
Of your minds and manners, your hearts and acts muddy,
And all unmechanically to live like I now am,
Upon the shore of that dim Lake Placid, so pure.
Where strange sound slumbers deep down in its depths,
Is there nothing within that placid stillness, outside
Our earthly existence, with which we could converse,
And friendly confabulate?
All on a sudden
An impulse grew in my heart, and an unquiet
Uncontrolled flaming commingled joyfully with my anguish.
Oh! for a moment only, to visit weirdly
And splendidly the flowers and beasts of the abyss
Where you dwell, the humans who set in commotion
So great a storm of pleasures and woes strife-rendered?
To flutter on joyous wing over cheerful landscapes,
To comfort sweet children, bewildered-haired maidens,
Flying swarms of maidens and heart;
Rejoicing, excited, struggling;
Crowning my journey of the lakes with a smile
Till the eye conquered and hearts embraced the graces
And glories of sin and of nature’s celestial.
Then like a wayfarer reaching the end of his journey,
With light enough ebbing and flowing about his footsteps,
To bless with his presence and gay Mona’s
Wakeful shore-and woods, every moor
And hillock, with all the four ends of this earth.
But all alone, with brave, bright eyes bending upon me,
Penetrating my inmost heart, browsing with their glance
The evergreen jubilee of gloomy trees,
To come back through the blue vault, to the former
Far-off possible throne of our father in heaven.
Come, then, if it must be so, O charming
Sadder, that seems to see my joyous glance
Always wandering below, trying to win you and kiss you,
As your waves time on the banks, my loved-up crown,
Lithe obelisks twisted and rushing like a bird,
Swaying like the boughz whereby innumerous trees stand
Surrounding the lake; let us for ever sail
Through the shadowless gaze of the moon supernal,
Where horizons fringe the endless, ever-stillness.
Pressing into the wet vegetation of banks
Of platforms and castles—a myriad
Stars twinkling upon our paths, where the eyelids
Of maidens sleep languored in loveliness and joy.