Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume VII. Descriptive: Narrative. 1904. | | | | Descriptive Poems: III. Places | | Drifting | | Thomas Buchanan Read (1822–1872) |
| | | MY soul to-day | |
| Is far away, | |
| Sailing the Vesuvian Bay; | |
| My wingèd boat, | |
| A bird afloat, | 5 |
| Swims round the purple peaks remote:— | |
| |
| Round purple peaks | |
| It sails, and seeks | |
| Blue inlets and their crystal creeks, | |
| Where high rocks throw, | 10 |
| Through deeps below, | |
| A duplicated golden glow. | |
| |
| Far, vague, and dim | |
| The mountains swim; | |
| While, on Vesuvius’ misty brim, | 15 |
| With outstretched hands, | |
| The gray smoke stands | |
| O’erlooking the volcanic lands. | |
| |
| Here Ischia smiles | |
| O’er liquid miles; | 20 |
| And yonder, bluest of the isles, | |
| Calm Capri waits, | |
| Her sapphire gates | |
| Beguiling to her bright estates. | |
| |
| I heed not, if | 25 |
| My rippling skiff | |
| Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff;— | |
| With dreamful eyes | |
| My spirit lies | |
| Under the walls of Paradise. | 30 |
| |
| Under the walls | |
| Where swells and falls | |
| The Bay’s deep breast at intervals, | |
| At peace I lie, | |
| Blown softly by, | 35 |
| A cloud upon this liquid sky. | |
| |
| The day, so mild, | |
| Is Heaven’s own child, | |
| With Earth and Ocean reconciled;— | |
| The airs I feel | 40 |
| Around me steal | |
| Are murmuring to the murmuring keel. | |
| |
| Over the rail | |
| My hand I trail | |
| Within the shadow of the sail; | 45 |
| A joy intense, | |
| The cooling sense | |
| Glides down my drowsy indolence. | |
| |
| With dreamful eyes | |
| My spirit lies | 50 |
| Where Summer sings and never dies,— | |
| O’erveiled with vines, | |
| She glows and shines | |
| Among her future oil and wines. | |
| |
| Her children, hid | 55 |
| The cliffs amid, | |
| Are gambolling with the gambolling kid; | |
| Or down the walls, | |
| With tipsy calls, | |
| Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls. | 60 |
| |
| The fisher’s child, | |
| With tresses wild, | |
| Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled, | |
| With glowing lips | |
| Sings as she skips, | 65 |
| Or gazes at the far-off ships. | |
| |
| Yon deep bark goes | |
| Where Traffic blows, | |
| From lands of sun to lands of snows;— | |
| This happier one, | 70 |
| Its course is run | |
| From lands of snow to lands of sun. | |
| |
| O happy ship, | |
| To rise and dip, | |
| With the blue crystal at your lip! | 75 |
| O happy crew, | |
| My heart with you | |
| Sails, and sails, and sings anew! | |
| |
| No more, no more | |
| The worldly shore | 80 |
| Upbraids me with its loud uproar! | |
| With dreamful eyes | |
| My spirit lies | |
| Under the walls of Paradise! | |
| |
| In lofty lines, | 85 |
| Mid palms and pines, | |
| And olives, aloes, elms, and vines, | |
| Sorrento swings | |
| On sunset wings, | |
| Where Tasso’s spirit soars and sings. | 90 | | | |
|
|
