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Endymion by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Terence Stamp |
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The rising moon has hid the stars; |
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Her level rays, like golden bars, |
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Lie on the landscape green, |
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With shadows brown between. |
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And silver white the river gleams, |
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As if Diana, in her dreams, |
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Had dropt her silver bow |
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Upon the meadows low. |
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On such a tranquil night as this, |
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She woke Endymion with a kiss, |
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When, sleeping in the grove, |
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He dreamed not of her love. |
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Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought, |
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Love gives itself, but is not bought; |
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Nor voice, nor sound betrays |
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Its deep, impassioned gaze. |
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It comes,--the beautiful, the free, |
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The crown of all humanity,-- |
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In silence and alone |
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To seek the elected one. |
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It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep |
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Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, |
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And kisses the closed eyes |
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Of him, who slumbering lies. |
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O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes! |
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O drooping souls, whose destinies |
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Are fraught with fear and pain, |
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Ye shall be loved again! |
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No one is so accursed by fate, |
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No one so utterly desolate, |
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But some heart, though unknown, |
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Responds unto his own. |
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Responds,--as if with unseen wings, |
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An angel touched its quivering strings; |
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And whispers, in its song, |
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"'Where hast thou stayed so long?" |
