Marina Sings
THIS is the song Marina sang
To forlorn Pericles :
Silver the young voice rang.
The gray beard blew about his knees,
And the hair of his bowed head, like a veil,
Fell over his cheeks and blent with it:
He knew not anything.
Above him the Tyrian fold
Of the curtain billowed, fringed with gold,
As might beseem a king.
Sunset was rose on every sail
That did along the far sea flit,
And rose on the cedarn deck
Of the ship that at anchor swayed ;
And the harbor was golden-lit.
He lifted not his neck
At the coming of the maid.
She swept him with her eyes,
As though some tender wing
Just touched a bleaching wreck
In sheeted sand that lies ;
Then she began to sing.
To forlorn Pericles :
Silver the young voice rang.
The gray beard blew about his knees,
And the hair of his bowed head, like a veil,
Fell over his cheeks and blent with it:
He knew not anything.
Above him the Tyrian fold
Of the curtain billowed, fringed with gold,
As might beseem a king.
Sunset was rose on every sail
That did along the far sea flit,
And rose on the cedarn deck
Of the ship that at anchor swayed ;
And the harbor was golden-lit.
He lifted not his neck
At the coming of the maid.
She swept him with her eyes,
As though some tender wing
Just touched a bleaching wreck
In sheeted sand that lies ;
Then she began to sing.
THE SONG.
Hush, ah hush! the sea is kind !
Lullaby is in the wind ;
Grief the babe forgets to weep,
Lapped and spelled and laid to sleep :
His lip is wet with the milk of the spray ;
He shall not wake till another day.
Ah hush! the sea is kind !
Lullaby is in the wind ;
Grief the babe forgets to weep,
Lapped and spelled and laid to sleep :
His lip is wet with the milk of the spray ;
He shall not wake till another day.
Ah hush! the sea is kind !
Who can tell, ah who can tell,
The cradling nurse’s croonèd spell ?
While the slumber-web she weaves
Never nursling stirs or grieves :
The tears that drowned his sweet eye-beams
Are turned to mists of rainbow dreams.
Ah hush ! she charms us well!
The cradling nurse’s croonèd spell ?
While the slumber-web she weaves
Never nursling stirs or grieves :
The tears that drowned his sweet eye-beams
Are turned to mists of rainbow dreams.
Ah hush ! she charms us well!
“ All thy hurts I balm and bind;
All thy heart’s loves thou shalt find ! ”
Yea, this she murmurs, best of all:
“It was not loss that did befall!
All thy joys are put away; They shall be thine another day ! ”
Ah hush ! the sea is kind!
All thy heart’s loves thou shalt find ! ”
Yea, this she murmurs, best of all:
“It was not loss that did befall!
All thy joys are put away; They shall be thine another day ! ”
Ah hush ! the sea is kind!
She sang ; she trembled like a lyre;
Her pure eyes burned with azure fire ;
About her lucent brow the hair
Played like light flames divine ones wear:
The maid was very fair.
But when she saw he gave no heed, —
Close-mantled up in ancient pain
As in some sad-wound weed,
Dumb as a shape of stone,
Being years past all moan, —
She tried no other strain,
But softly spake : 舠 Most royal sir! ”
He raised his head and looked at her.
So might a castaway, half dead,
Lift up his haggard head,
Waked by the swirl of sudden rain,
A cool, unhoped-for grace,
Against his tearless face:
And see, with happy-crazèd mind,
Upon his raft a Bright One stand, —
His love of youth, her grave long left behind
In some sweet-watered land.
Her pure eyes burned with azure fire ;
About her lucent brow the hair
Played like light flames divine ones wear:
The maid was very fair.
But when she saw he gave no heed, —
Close-mantled up in ancient pain
As in some sad-wound weed,
Dumb as a shape of stone,
Being years past all moan, —
She tried no other strain,
But softly spake : 舠 Most royal sir! ”
He raised his head and looked at her.
So might a castaway, half dead,
Lift up his haggard head,
Waked by the swirl of sudden rain,
A cool, unhoped-for grace,
Against his tearless face:
And see, with happy-crazèd mind,
Upon his raft a Bright One stand, —
His love of youth, her grave long left behind
In some sweet-watered land.
Helen Gray Cone.