Susanna Strickland Moodie

(1803 - 1885 / Canada)

Fancy and the Poet


Poet --

Enchanting spirit! -- at thy votive shrine
I lowly bend a simple wreath to twine;
O Come from the ideal world and fling
Thy airy fingers o'er my rugged string;
Sweep the dark chords of thought and give to earth
The thrilling song that tells thy heavenly birth --


Fancy --

Happiness when from earth she fled
I passed on her heavenward flight --
"Take this crown," the spirit said
"Of heaven's own golden light --
To the sons of sorrow the token give,
And bid them follow my steps and live!" --

I took the crown from the snowy hand,
It flashed like a living star;
I turned this dark earth to a fairy land
When I hither drive my car;
But I placed the crown round my tresses bright,
And man only saw its reflected light --

Many a lovely dream I've given,
And many a song divine;
But never! -- oh never -- that gift of heaven
Shall mortals temples twine --
Hope and love in the circlet glow!
'Tis all too bright for a world of woe --


Poet --

Hist -- Beautiful spirit! -- why silent so soon?
My ear drinks each word of thy magical tune;
My lyre owns thy touch -- and its tremulous strings
Vibrate beneath the soft play of thy wings;
Resume thy sweet lay, and reveal, ere we part
Thy home lovely spirit -- and say what thou art?" --


Fancy --

The gleam of a star thou cans't not see --
Of an eye 'neath its sleeping lid,
The sound of a far off melody
The voice of a stream that's hid;
Such must I still remain to thee
A wonder and a mystery! --

I live in the poet's dream
I flash on the painter's eye;
I dwell in the moon's pale beam,
In the depths of the star lit sky;
I traverse the earth, the air, the main,
And bind young hearts in my magic chain --

I float on the fleecy cloud
My voice is in ev'ry breeze;
I speak in the tempest loud,
In the sigh of the waving trees --
To the sons of earth -- in a mystic tone,
I tell of a world more bright than their own! --

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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