The Nympholept

A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)

There was a boy — not above childish fears —

With steps that faltered now and straining ears,

Timid, irresolute, yet dauntless still,

Who one bright dawn, when each remotest hill

Stood sharp and clear in Heaven’s unclouded blue

And all Earth shimmered with fresh-beaded dew,

Risen in the first beams of the gladdening sun,

Walked up into the mountains. One by one

Each towering trunk beneath his sturdy stride

Fell back, and ever wider and more wide

The boundless prospect opened. Long he strayed,

From dawn till the last trace of slanting shade

Had vanished from the canyons, and, dismayed

At that far length to which his path had led,

He paused — at such a height where overhead

The clouds hung close, the air came thin and chill,

And all was hushed and calm and very still,

Save, from abysmal gorges, where the sound

Of tumbling waters rose, and all around

The pines, by those keen upper currents blown,

Muttered in multitudinous monotone.

Here, with the wind in lovely locks laid bare,

With arms oft raised in dedicative prayer,

Lost in mute rapture and adoring wonder,

He stood, till the far noise of noontide thunder,

Rolled down upon the muffled harmonies

Of wind and waterfall and whispering trees,

Made loneliness more lone. Some Panic fear

Would seize him then, as they who seemed to hear

In Tracian valleys or Thessalian woods

The god’s hallooing wake the leafy solitudes;

I think it was the same: some piercing sense

Of Deity’s pervasive immanence,

The Life that visible Nature doth indwell

Grown great and near and all but palpable . . .

He might not linger, but with winged strides

Like one pursued, fled down the mountain-sides —

Down the long ridge that edged the steep ravine,

By glade and flowery lawn and upland green,

And never paused nor felt assured again

But where the grassy foothills opened. Then,

While shadows lengthened on the plain below

And the sun vanished and the sunset-glow

Looked back upon the world with fervid eye

Through the barred windows of the western sky,

Homeward he fared, while many a look behind

Showed the receding ranges dim-outlined,

Highland and hollow where his path had lain,

Veiled in deep purple of the mountain rain.

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• A Poet by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Meeting With Despair by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Man (In Memory of H. of M.) by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A King’s Soliloquy [On the Night of His Funeral] by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• In A Wood by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• “I Sometimes Think” by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Death-Day Recalled by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Conversation At Dawn by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Confession To A Friend In Trouble by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Commonplace Day by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Circular by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Christmas Ghost Story by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• Amabel by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• Ah, Are You Digging On My Grave? by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• After The Visit by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• After Schiller by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• After A Journey by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• Additions: The Fire at Tranter Sweatley’s by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• “According to the Mighty Working” by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy
• A Wife In London by Thomas Hardy by Thomas Hardy

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