Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
Sir Edmund William Gosse 18491928Hans Christian Andersen
Gosse-SiA
With eyes of dew and plumes of fire,
New-born, immortal, strong and fair;
Glance ere he goes!
His feet are shrouded like the dead,
But in his face a wild desire
Breaks like the dawn that flushes red,
And like a rose.
And music wakes through all the skies;
What mortal such a triumph hath,
By death set free?
What earthly hands and heart are pure
As this man’s, whose unshrinking eyes
Gaze onward through the deep obscure,
Nor quail to see?
Of wisdom set in speechless things,
Who, patient, watched the day-star mount,
While others slept.
Ah! this was he whose loving soul
Found heart-beats under trembling wings,
And heard divinest music roll
Where wild springs leapt.
And children’s dreamings ran in tune,
And strange old heroes, weird and dim,
Walked by his side.
The very shadows loved him well
And danced and flickered in the moon,
And left him wondrous tales to tell
Men far and wide.
Through greenwood alleys full of sun,
And, as he wanders, turns and talks,
Though none be there;
The children watch in vain the place
Where they were wont, when day was done,
To see their poet’s sweet worn face,
And faded hair.
Though all its earthly shrine decay!
Transfigured under clearer skies,
He sings anew;
The frail soul-covering, racked with pain,
And scored with vigil, fades away,
The soul set free and young again
Glides upward through.
Perchance a glory like a star
May leave what hangs about him there,
And flash on us!…
Behold! the void is full of light,
The beams pierce heaven from bar to bar,
And all the hollows of the night
Grow luminous!