Under the Oak.

Soft the wind-blow and sunshine1
                        
                        In this garden which is mine ;2
                        
                        Scarce a hundred yards in girth,3
                        
                        Yet a part of all the earth !4
                        
                        World for carpet, roof of skies,5
                        
                        Walls of Nature’s tapestries,6
                        
                        Naught between the sun and me7
                        
                        Save the curtain of a tree.8
                        Here as ’neath the oak I sit,9
                        
                        Whisperings come out of it ;10
                        
                        Summer-fancies, half desires,11
                        
                        Breaths that fan forgotten fires,12
                        
                        Trembling little waifs of song,13
                        
                        Seeking words to make them strong,14
                        
                        Life that dies without a sorrow,15
                        
                        Butterflies of no to-morrow,16
                        
                        Odours of a bygone day,17
                        
                        All the sweets that will not stay,18
                        
                        All the sweets that never cloy,19
                        
                        Unembodied souls of joy,20
                        
                        Sing and flutter, flash and go,21
                        
                        With a ceaseless interflow ;22
                        
                        Till at last some happier seed,23
                        
                        Finds the rest its brothers need,24
                        
                        Strikes a root and grows and climbs,25
                        
                        Buds in words and flowers in rhymes.26
                        Who shall tell me how it came !27
                        
                        Was it in this winnowed flame,28
                        
                        Golden-dripping through the leaves29
                        
                        Like the grain of heavenly sheaves ?30
                        
                        From the voice of throstle clear31
                        
                        ‘ Was it filtered through the ear ?32
                        
                        Came it thus, or did it come33
                        
                        Borne upon the wild bee’s hum,34
                        
                        That a moment buzzed around35
                        
                        With a circle charmed of sound ?36
                        
                        
Or did Zephyr in a dell37
                        
                        Steal it with a scent as well38
                        
                        From some hidden flower-bell,39
                        
                        To instil its life in me40
                        
                        With a subtle chemistry ?41
                        Little knew I, but a sense42
                        
                        Solemn, delicate, intense,43
                        
                        Filled my spirit with a bliss44
                        
                        Sweeter, holier, than a kiss—45
                        
                        Liquid, radiant, unthought,46
                        
                        That at once all being brought47
                        
                        Into rarer harmony,48
                        
                        Beast and bird, and sun and tree,49
                        
                        Air and perfume, God and me.50
                        Just as one whose birthright lost,51
                        
                        Wonder-struck and passion-tost,52
                        
                        After many a loveless day53
                           
                           Sails at length into a bay54
                           
                           Where he thinks his bones to lay,55
                           Finds indeed an end to strife,56
                        
                        Not in dying, but in life,57
                        
                        Friends and kindred, birthright, all,58
                        
                        With dear love for coronal.59
                        So at length I seemed at home60
                        
                        Underneath that distant dome,61
                        
                        Where the spirit holds at ease62
                        
                        Frank communion with the trees ;63
                        
                        Comrade of the boundless wind,64
                        
                        Linked in universal mind65
                        
                        With all things which live or are,66
                        
                        From the daisy to the star,67
                        
                        Part for once of Nature’s plan,68
                        
                        Not the lonely exile—Man.69