A Ballad Of Appeal

TO CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.     Song wakes with every wakening year     From hearts of birds that only feel     Brief springs deciduous flower-time near:     And song more strong to help or heal     Shall silence worse than winter seal?     From love-lit thoughts remurmuring cave     The notes that rippled, wave on wave,     Were clear as love, as faith were strong;     And all souls blessed the soul that gave     Sweet water from the well of song.     All hearts bore fruit of joy to hear,     All eyes felt mist upon them steal     For joys sake, trembling toward a tear,     When, loud as marriage-bells that peal,     Or flutelike soft, or keen like steel,     Sprang the sheer music; sharp or grave,     We heard the drift of winds that drave,     And saw, swept round by ghosts in throng,     Dark rocks, that yielded, where they clave,     Sweet water from the well of song.     Blithe verse made all the dim sense clear     That smiles of babbling babes conceal:     Prayers perfect heart spake here: and here     Rose notes of blameless woe and weal,     More soft than this poor songs appeal.     Where orchards bask, where cornfields wave,     They dropped like rains that cleanse and lave,     And scattered all the year along,     Like dewfall on an April grave,     Sweet water from the well of song.     Ballad, go bear our prayer, and crave     Pardon, because thy lowlier stave     Can do this plea no right, but wrong.     Ask nought beside thy pardon, save     Sweet water from the well of song.