C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Rainbow’s Treasure
By John Boyle O’Reilly (1844–1890)
W
And the grass resplendent glows,
The earth will a precious treasure yield,
So the olden story goes.
In a crystal cup are the diamonds piled,
For him who can swiftly chase
Over torrent and desert and precipice wild,
To the rainbow’s wandering base.
Two brothers, who blithely sung,
When across their valley’s deep-winding way
The glorious arch was flung!
And one saw naught but a sign of rain,
And feared for his sheaves unbound;
And one is away, over mountain and plain,
Till the mystical treasure is found!
The rainbow lured him on;
With a siren’s guile it loitered awhile,
Then leagues away was gone.
Over brake and brier he followed fleet;
The people scoffed as he passed;
But in thirst and heat, and with wounded feet,
He nears the prize at last.
One strain for the goal in sight:
Its radiance falls on his yearning face—
The blended colors unite!
He laves his brow in the iris beam—
He reaches— Ah woe! the sound
From the misty gulf where he ends his dream,
And the crystal cup is found!
His lesson of toil in the sky;
While another is blind to the present need,
But sees with the spirit’s eye.
You may grind their souls in the selfsame mill,
You may bind them heart and brow;
But the poet will follow the rainbow still,
And his brother will follow the plow.