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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22726-8.txt b/22726-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd6fb31 --- /dev/null +++ b/22726-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2001 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: New Poems + +Author: D. H. Lawrence + +Release Date: September 22, 2007 [EBook #22726] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Lewis Jones + + + + + +D.H. Lawrence (1918) _New Poems_ + + + +NEW POEMS + + + +POEMS BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + LOVE POEMS AND OTHERS + AMORES + LOOK, WE HAVE COME THROUGH + + + +FIRST PUBLISHED, OCTOBER, 1918 +NEW EDITION (RESET), AUGUST, 1919 + + + +New Poems + +By D. H. Lawrence + + + +London: Martin Seeker + + + +TO +AMY LOWELL + + + +THE LONDON AND NORWICH PRESS, LIMITED, LONDON AND NORWICH, ENGLAND + + + +CONTENTS + +Apprehension +Coming Awake +From a College Window +Flapper +Birdcage Walk +Letter from Town: The Almond Tree +Flat Suburbs, S.W., in the Morning +Thief in the Night +Letter from Town: On a Grey Evening in March +Suburbs on a Hazy Day +Hyde Park at Night: Clerks +Gipsy +Two-Fold +Under the Oak +Sigh no More +Love Storm +Parliament Hill in the Evening +Piccadilly Circus at Night: Street Walkers +Tarantella +In Church +Piano +Embankment at Night: Charity +Phantasmagoria +Next Morning +Palimpsest of Twilight +Embankment at Night: Outcasts +Winter in the Boulevard +School on the Outskirts +Sickness +Everlasting Flowers +The North Country +Bitterness of Death +Seven Seals +Reading a Letter +Twenty Years Ago +Intime +Two Wives +Heimweh +Débâcle +Narcissus +Autumn Sunshine +On That Day + + + +APPREHENSION + +AND all hours long, the town + Roars like a beast in a cave +That is wounded there +And like to drown; + While days rush, wave after wave +On its lair. + +An invisible woe unseals + The flood, so it passes beyond +All bounds: the great old city +Recumbent roars as it feels + The foamy paw of the pond +Reach from immensity. + +But all that it can do + Now, as the tide rises, +Is to listen and hear the grim +Waves crash like thunder through + The splintered streets, hear noises +Roll hollow in the interim. + + +COMING AWAKE + +WHEN I woke, the lake-lights were quivering on the + wall, +The sunshine swam in a shoal across and across, +And a hairy, big bee hung over the primulas +In the window, his body black fur, and the sound + of him cross. + +There was something I ought to remember: and + yet +I did not remember. Why should I? The run- + ning lights +And the airy primulas, oblivious +Of the impending bee--they were fair enough + sights. + + +FROM A COLLEGE WINDOW + +THE glimmer of the limes, sun-heavy, sleeping, + Goes trembling past me up the College wall. +Below, the lawn, in soft blue shade is keeping, + The daisy-froth quiescent, softly in thrall. + +Beyond the leaves that overhang the street, + Along the flagged, clean pavement summer-white, +Passes the world with shadows at their feet + Going left and right. + +Remote, although I hear the beggar's cough, + See the woman's twinkling fingers tend him a + coin, +I sit absolved, assured I am better off + Beyond a world I never want to join. + + +FLAPPER + +LOVE has crept out of her sealéd heart + As a field-bee, black and amber, + Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber +Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start. + +Mischief has come in her dawning eyes, + And a glint of coloured iris brings + Such as lies along the folded wings +Of the bee before he flies. + +Who, with a ruffling, careful breath, + Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite? + Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight +In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth? + +Love makes the burden of her voice. + The hum of his heavy, staggering wings + Sets quivering with wisdom the common + things +That she says, and her words rejoice. + + +BIRDCAGE WALK + +WHEN the wind blows her veil + And uncovers her laughter +I cease, I turn pale. +When the wind blows her veil +From the woes I bewail + Of love and hereafter: +When the wind blows her veil +I cease, I turn pale. + + +LETTER FROM TOWN: THE +ALMOND TREE + +YOU promised to send me some violets. Did you + forget? + White ones and blue ones from under the orchard + hedge? + Sweet dark purple, and white ones mixed for a + pledge +Of our early love that hardly has opened yet. + +Here there's an almond tree--you have never seen + Such a one in the north--it flowers on the street, + and I stand + Every day by the fence to look up for the flowers + that expand +At rest in the blue, and wonder at what they mean. + +Under the almond tree, the happy lands + Provence, Japan, and Italy repose, + And passing feet are chatter and clapping of + those +Who play around us, country girls clapping their + hands. + +You, my love, the foremost, in a flowered gown, + All your unbearable tenderness, you with the + laughter + Startled upon your eyes now so wide with here- + after, +You with loose hands of abandonment hanging + down. + + +FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE +MORNING + +THE new red houses spring like plants + In level rows +Of reddish herbage that bristles and slants + Its square shadows. + +The pink young houses show one side bright + Flatly assuming the sun, +And one side shadow, half in sight, + Half-hiding the pavement-run; + +Where hastening creatures pass intent + On their level way, +Threading like ants that can never relent + And have nothing to say. + +Bare stems of street-lamps stiffly stand + At random, desolate twigs, +To testify to a blight on the land + That has stripped their sprigs. + + + +THIEF IN THE NIGHT + +LAST night a thief came to me + And struck at me with something dark. +I cried, but no one could hear me, + I lay dumb and stark. + +When I awoke this morning + I could find no trace; +Perhaps 'twas a dream of warning, + For I've lost my peace. + + +LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A +GREY EVENING IN MARCH + +THE clouds are pushing in grey reluctance slowly + northward to you, +While north of them all, at the farthest ends, + stands one bright-bosomed, aglance +With fire as it guards the wild north cloud-coasts, + red-fire seas running through +The rocks where ravens flying to windward melt + as a well-shot lance. + +You should be out by the orchard, where violets + secretly darken the earth, +Or there in the woods of the twilight, with + northern wind-flowers shaken astir. +Think of me here in the library, trying and trying + a song that is worth +Tears and swords to my heart, arrows no armour + will turn or deter. + +You tell me the lambs have come, they lie like + daisies white in the grass +Of the dark-green hills; new calves in shed; + peewits turn after the plough-- +It is well for you. For me the navvies work in the + road where I pass +And I want to smite in anger the barren rock of + each waterless brow. + +Like the sough of a wind that is caught up high in + the mesh of the budding trees, +A sudden car goes sweeping past, and I strain my + soul to hear +The voice of the furtive triumphant engine as it + rushes past like a breeze, +To hear on its mocking triumphance unwitting + the after-echo of fear. + + +SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY + +O STIFFLY shapen houses that change not, + What conjuror's cloth was thrown across you, + and raised +To show you thus transfigured, changed, + Your stuff all gone, your menace almost rased? + +Such resolute shapes, so harshly set + In hollow blocks and cubes deformed, and heaped +In void and null profusion, how is this? + In what strong _aqua regia_ now are you steeped? + +That you lose the brick-stuff out of you + And hover like a presentment, fading faint +And vanquished, evaporate away + To leave but only the merest possible taint! + + +HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE +THE WAR + +_Clerks_. + +WE have shut the doors behind us, and the velvet + flowers of night +Lean about us scattering their pollen grains of + golden light. + +Now at last we lift our faces, and our faces come + aflower +To the night that takes us willing, liberates us to the + hour. + +Now at last the ink and dudgeon passes from our + fervent eyes +And out of the chambered weariness wanders a + spirit abroad on its enterprise. + + Not too near and not too far + Out of the stress of the crowd + Music screams as elephants scream + When they lift their trunks and scream aloud + For joy of the night when masters are + Asleep and adream. + + So here I hide in the Shalimar + With a wanton princess slender and proud, + And we swoon with kisses, swoon till we seem + Two streaming peacocks gone in a cloud + Of golden dust, with star after star + On our stream. + + +GIPSY + +I, THE man with the red scarf, + Will give thee what I have, this last week's earn- + ings. +Take them, and buy thee a silver ring + And wed me, to ease my yearnings. + +For the rest, when thou art wedded + I'll wet my brow for thee +With sweat, I'll enter a house for thy sake, + Thou shalt shut doors on me. + + +TWO-FOLD + +How gorgeous that shock of red lilies, and larkspur + cleaving +All with a flash of blue!--when will she be leaving +Her room, where the night still hangs like a half- + folded bat, +And passion unbearable seethes in the darkness, like + must in a vat. + + +UNDER THE OAK + +You, if you were sensible, +When I tell you the stars flash signals, each one + dreadful, +You would not turn and answer me +"The night is wonderful." + +Even you, if you knew +How this darkness soaks me through and through, + and infuses +Unholy fear in my vapour, you would pause to dis- + tinguish +What hurts, from what amuses. + +For I tell you +Beneath this powerful tree, my whole soul's fluid +Oozes away from me as a sacrifice steam +At the knife of a Druid. + +Again I tell you, I bleed, I am bound with withies, +My life runs out. +I tell you my blood runs out on the floor of this oak, +Gout upon gout. + +Above me springs the blood-born mistletoe +In the shady smoke. +But who are you, twittering to and fro +Beneath the oak? + +What thing better are you, what worse? +What have you to do with the mysteries +Of this ancient place, of my ancient curse? +What place have you in my histories? + + +SIGH NO MORE + +THE cuckoo and the coo-dove's ceaseless calling, + Calling, +Of a meaningless monotony is palling +All my morning's pleasure in the sun-fleck-scattered + wood. +May-blossom and blue bird's-eye flowers falling, + Falling +In a litter through the elm-tree shade are scrawling +Messages of true-love down the dust of the high- + road. +I do not like to hear the gentle grieving, + Grieving +Of the she-dove in the blossom, still believing +Love will yet again return to her and make all good. + +When I know that there must ever be deceiving, + Deceiving +Of the mournful constant heart, that while she's + weaving +Her woes, her lover woos and sings within another + wood. + +Oh, boisterous the cuckoo shouts, forestalling, + Stalling +A progress down the intricate enthralling +By-paths where the wanton-headed flowers doff + their hood. + +And like a laughter leads me onward, heaving, + Heaving +A sigh among the shadows, thus retrieving +A decent short regret for that which once was very + good. + + +LOVE STORM + +MANY roses in the wind +Are tapping at the window-sash. +A hawk is in the sky; his wings +Slowly begin to plash. + +The roses with the west wind rapping +Are torn away, and a splash +Of red goes down the billowing air. + +Still hangs the hawk, with the whole sky moving +Past him--only a wing-beat proving +The will that holds him there. + +The daisies in the grass are bending, +The hawk has dropped, the wind is spending +All the roses, and unending +Rustle of leaves washes out the rending +Cry of a bird. + +A red rose goes on the wind.--Ascending +The hawk his wind-swept way is wending +Easily down the sky. The daisies, sending +Strange white signals, seem intending +To show the place whence the scream was heard. + +But, oh, my heart, what birds are piping! +A silver wind is hastily wiping +The face of the youngest rose. + +And oh, my heart, cease apprehending! +The hawk is gone, a rose is tapping +The window-sash as the west-wind blows. + +Knock, knock, 'tis no more than a red rose rapping, +And fear is a plash of wings. +What, then, if a scarlet rose goes flapping +Down the bright-grey ruin of things! + + +PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE +EVENING + +THE houses fade in a melt of mist + Blotching the thick, soiled air +With reddish places that still resist + The Night's slow care. + +The hopeless, wintry twilight fades, + The city corrodes out of sight +As the body corrodes when death invades + That citadel of delight. + +Now verdigris smoulderings softly spread + Through the shroud of the town, as slow +Night-lights hither and thither shed + Their ghastly glow. + + +PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT + +_Street-Walkers_. + +WHEN into the night the yellow light is roused like + dust above the towns, +Or like a mist the moon has kissed from off a pool in + the midst of the downs, + +Our faces flower for a little hour pale and uncertain + along the street, +Daisies that waken all mistaken white-spread in ex- + pectancy to meet + +The luminous mist which the poor things wist was + dawn arriving across the sky, +When dawn is far behind the star the dust-lit town + has driven so high. + +All the birds are folded in a silent ball of sleep, + All the flowers are faded from the asphalt isle in + the sea, +Only we hard-faced creatures go round and round, + and keep + The shores of this innermost ocean alive and + illusory. + +Wanton sparrows that twittered when morning + looked in at their eyes + And the Cyprian's pavement-roses are gone, and + now it is we +Flowers of illusion who shine in our gauds, make a + Paradise + On the shores of this ceaseless ocean, gay birds of + the town-dark sea. + + +TARANTELLA + +SAD as he sits on the white sea-stone +And the suave sea chuckles, and turns to the moon, +And the moon significant smiles at the cliffs and + the boulders. +He sits like a shade by the flood alone +While I dance a tarantella on the rocks, and the + croon +Of my mockery mocks at him over the waves' + bright shoulders. + +What can I do but dance alone, +Dance to the sliding sea and the moon, +For the moon on my breast and the air on my limbs + and the foam on my feet? +For surely this earnest man has none +Of the night in his soul, and none of the tune +Of the waters within him; only the world's old + wisdom to bleat. + +I wish a wild sea-fellow would come down the + glittering shingle, +A soulless neckar, with winking seas in his eyes +And falling waves in his arms, and the lost soul's kiss +On his lips: I long to be soulless, I tingle +To touch the sea in the last surprise +Of fiery coldness, to be gone in a lost soul's bliss. + + +IN CHURCH + +IN the choir the boys are singing the hymn. + The morning light on their lips +Moves in silver-moist flashes, in musical trim. + +Sudden outside the high window, one crow + Hangs in the air +And lights on a withered oak-tree's top of woe. + +One bird, one blot, folded and still at the top + Of the withered tree!--in the grail +Of crystal heaven falls one full black drop. + +Like a soft full drop of darkness it seems to sway + In the tender wine +Of our Sabbath, suffusing our sacred day. + + +PIANO + +Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; +Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see +A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the + tingling strings +And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who + smiles as she sings. + +In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song +Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong +To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter + outside +And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano + our guide. + +So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour +With the great black piano appassionato. The + glamour +Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast +Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a + child for the past. + + +EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, +BEFORE THE WAR + +_Charity_. + +BY the river +In the black wet night as the furtive rain slinks + down, +Dropping and starting from sleep +Alone on a seat +A woman crouches. + +I must go back to her. + +I want to give her +Some money. Her hand slips out of the breast of + her gown +Asleep. My fingers creep +Carefully over the sweet +Thumb-mound, into the palm's deep pouches. + +So, the gift! + +God, how she starts! +And looks at me, and looks in the palm of her hand! +And again at me! +I turn and run +Down the Embankment, run for my life. + +But why?--why? + +Because of my heart's +Beating like sobs, I come to myself, and stand +In the street spilled over splendidly +With wet, flat lights. What I've done +I know not, my soul is in strife. + +The touch was on the quick. I want to forget. + + +PHANTASMAGORIA + +RIGID sleeps the house in darkness, I alone +Like a thing unwarrantable cross the hall +And climb the stairs to find the group of doors +Standing angel-stern and tall. + +I want my own room's shelter. But what is this +Throng of startled beings suddenly thrown +In confusion against my entry? Is it only the trees' +Large shadows from the outside street lamp blown? + +Phantom to phantom leaning; strange women weep +Aloud, suddenly on my mind +Startling a fear unspeakable, as the shuddering wind +Breaks and sobs in the blind. + +So like to women, tall strange women weeping! +Why continually do they cross the bed? +Why does my soul contract with unnatural fear? +I am listening! Is anything said? + +Ever the long black figures swoop by the bed; +They seem to be beckoning, rushing away, and + beckoning. +Whither then, whither, what is it, say +What is the reckoning. + +Tall black Bacchae of midnight, why then, why +Do you rush to assail me? +Do I intrude on your rites nocturnal? +What should it avail me? + +Is there some great Iacchos of these slopes +Suburban dismal? +Have I profaned some female mystery, orgies +Black and phantasmal? + + +NEXT MORNING + +How have I wandered here to this vaulted room +In the house of life?--the floor was ruffled with gold +Last evening, and she who was softly in bloom, +Glimmered as flowers that in perfume at twilight + unfold + +For the flush of the night; whereas now the gloom +Of every dirty, must-besprinkled mould, +And damp old web of misery's heirloom +Deadens this day's grey-dropping arras-fold. + +And what is this that floats on the undermist +Of the mirror towards the dusty grate, as if feeling +Unsightly its way to the warmth?--this thing with + a list +To the left? this ghost like a candle swealing? + +Pale-blurred, with two round black drops, as if it + missed +Itself among everything else, here hungrily stealing +Upon me!--my own reflection!--explicit gist +Of my presence there in the mirror that leans from + the ceiling! + +Then will somebody square this shade with the + being I know +I was last night, when my soul rang clear as a bell +And happy as rain in summer? Why should it be + so? +What is there gone against me, why am I in hell? + + +PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT + +DARKNESS comes out of the earth + And swallows dip into the pallor of the west; +From the hay comes the clamour of children's + mirth; +Wanes the old palimpsest. + +The night-stock oozes scent, + And a moon-blue moth goes flittering by: +All that the worldly day has meant + Wastes like a lie. + +The children have forsaken their play; + A single star in a veil of light +Glimmers: litter of day + Is gone from sight. + + +EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, +BEFORE THE WAR + +_Outcasts_. + +THE night rain, dripping unseen, +Comes endlessly kissing my face and my hands. + +The river, slipping between +Lamps, is rayed with golden bands +Half way down its heaving sides; +Revealed where it hides. + +Under the bridge +Great electric cars +Sing through, and each with a floor-light racing + along at its side. +Far off, oh, midge after midge +Drifts over the gulf that bars +The night with silence, crossing the lamp-touched + tide. + +At Charing Cross, here, beneath the bridge +Sleep in a row the outcasts, +Packed in a line with their heads against the wall. +Their feet, in a broken ridge +Stretch out on the way, and a lout casts +A look as he stands on the edge of this naked stall. + +Beasts that sleep will cover +Their faces in their flank; so these +Have huddled rags or limbs on the naked sleep. +Save, as the tram-cars hover +Past with the noise of a breeze +And gleam as of sunshine crossing the low black heap, + +Two naked faces are seen +Bare and asleep, +Two pale clots swept and swept by the light of the + cars. +Foam-clots showing between +The long, low tidal-heap, +The mud-weed opening two pale, shadowless stars. + +Over the pallor of only two faces +Passes the gallivant beam of the trams; +Shows in only two sad places +The white bare bone of our shams. + +A little, bearded man, pale, peaked in sleeping, +With a face like a chickweed flower. +And a heavy woman, sleeping still keeping +Callous and dour. + +Over the pallor of only two places +Tossed on the low, black, ruffled heap +Passes the light of the tram as it races +Out of the deep. + +Eloquent limbs +In disarray +Sleep-suave limbs of a youth with long, smooth + thighs +Hutched up for warmth; the muddy rims +Of trousers fray +On the thin bare shins of a man who uneasily lies. + +The balls of five red toes +As red and dirty, bare +Young birds forsaken and left in a nest of mud-- +Newspaper sheets enclose +Some limbs like parcels, and tear +When the sleeper stirs or turns on the ebb of the + flood-- + +One heaped mound +Of a woman's knees +As she thrusts them upward under the ruffled skirt-- +And a curious dearth of sound +In the presence of these +Wastrels that sleep on the flagstones without any + hurt. + +Over two shadowless, shameless faces +Stark on the heap +Travels the light as it tilts in its paces +Gone in one leap. + +At the feet of the sleepers, watching, +Stand those that wait +For a place to lie down; and still as they stand, + they sleep, +Wearily catching +The flood's slow gait +Like men who are drowned, but float erect in the + deep. + +Oh, the singing mansions, +Golden-lighted tall +Trams that pass, blown ruddily down the night! +The bridge on its stanchions +Stoops like a pall +To this human blight. + +On the outer pavement, slowly, +Theatre people pass, +Holding aloft their umbrellas that flash and are + bright +Like flowers of infernal moly +Over nocturnal grass +Wetly bobbing and drifting away on our sight. + +And still by the rotten +Row of shattered feet, +Outcasts keep guard. +Forgotten, +Forgetting, till fate shall delete +One from the ward. + +The factories on the Surrey side +Are beautifully laid in black on a gold-grey sky. +The river's invisible tide +Threads and thrills like ore that is wealth to the eye. + +And great gold midges +Cross the chasm +At the bridges +Above intertwined plasm. + + +WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD + +THE frost has settled down upon the trees +And ruthlessly strangled off the fantasies +Of leaves that have gone unnoticed, swept like old +Romantic stories now no more to be told. + +The trees down the boulevard stand naked in + thought, +Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught +In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront +Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt. + +Has some hand balanced more leaves in the depths + of the twigs? +Some dim little efforts placed in the threads of the + birch?-- +It is only the sparrows, like dead black leaves on + the sprigs, +Sitting huddled against the cerulean, one flesh with + their perch. + +The clear, cold sky coldly bethinks itself. +Like vivid thought the air spins bright, and all +Trees, birds, and earth, arrested in the after-thought +Awaiting the sentence out from the welkin brought. + + +SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS + +How different, in the middle of snows, the great + school rises red! + A red rock silent and shadowless, clung round + with clusters of shouting lads, +Some few dark-cleaving the doorway, souls that + cling as the souls of the dead + In stupor persist at the gates of life, obstinate + dark monads. + +This new red rock in a waste of white rises against + the day + With shelter now, and with blandishment, since + the winds have had their way +And laid the desert horrific of silence and snow on + the world of mankind, + School now is the rock in this weary land the winter + burns and makes blind. + + +SICKNESS + +WAVING slowly before me, pushed into the dark, +Unseen my hands explore the silence, drawing the + bark +Of my body slowly behind. + +Nothing to meet my fingers but the fleece of night +Invisible blinding my face and my eyes! What if + in their flight +My hands should touch the door! + +What if I suddenly stumble, and push the door +Open, and a great grey dawn swirls over my feet, + before +I can draw back! + +What if unwitting I set the door of eternity wide +And am swept away in the horrible dawn, am gone + down the tide +Of eternal hereafter! + +Catch my hands, my darling, between your breasts. +Take them away from their venture, before fate + wrests +The meaning out of them. + + +EVERLASTING FLOWERS + +WHO do you think stands watching + The snow-tops shining rosy +In heaven, now that the darkness + Takes all but the tallest posy? + +Who then sees the two-winged + Boat down there, all alone +And asleep on the snow's last shadow, + Like a moth on a stone? + +The olive-leaves, light as gad-flies, + Have all gone dark, gone black. +And now in the dark my soul to you + Turns back. + +To you, my little darling, + To you, out of Italy. +For what is loveliness, my love, + Save you have it with me! + +So, there's an oxen wagon + Comes darkly into sight: +A man with a lantern, swinging + A little light. + +What does he see, my darling + Here by the darkened lake? +Here, in the sloping shadow + The mountains make? + +He says not a word, but passes, + Staring at what he sees. +What ghost of us both do you think he saw + Under the olive trees? + +All the things that are lovely-- + The things you never knew-- +I wanted to gather them one by one + And bring them to you. + +But never now, my darling + Can I gather the mountain-tips +From the twilight like half-shut lilies + To hold to your lips. + +And never the two-winged vessel + That sleeps below on the lake +Can I catch like a moth between my hands + For you to take. + +But hush, I am not regretting: + It is far more perfect now. +I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world + And tell them how + +I know you here in the darkness, + How you sit in the throne of my eyes +At peace, and look out of the windows + In glad surprise. + + +THE NORTH COUNTRY + +IN another country, black poplars shake them- + selves over a pond, +And rooks and the rising smoke-waves scatter and + wheel from the works beyond; +The air is dark with north and with sulphur, the + grass is a darker green, +And people darkly invested with purple move + palpable through the scene. + +Soundlessly down across the counties, out of the + resonant gloom +That wraps the north in stupor and purple travels + the deep, slow boom +Of the man-life north-imprisoned, shut in the hum + of the purpled steel +As it spins to sleep on its motion, drugged dense in + the sleep of the wheel. + +Out of the sleep, from the gloom of motion, sound- + lessly, somnambule +Moans and booms the soul of a people imprisoned, + asleep in the rule +Of the strong machine that runs mesmeric, booming + the spell of its word +Upon them and moving them helpless, mechanic, + their will to its will deferred. + +Yet all the while comes the droning inaudible, out + of the violet air, +The moaning of sleep-bound beings in travail that + toil and are will-less there +In the spell-bound north, convulsive now with a + dream near morning, strong +With violent achings heaving to burst the sleep + that is now not long. + + +BITTERNESS OF DEATH + +I + +AH, stern, cold man, +How can you lie so relentless hard +While I wash you with weeping water! +Do you set your face against the daughter +Of life? Can you never discard +Your curt pride's ban? + +You masquerader! +How can you shame to act this part +Of unswerving indifference to me? +You want at last, ah me! +To break my heart +Evader! + +You know your mouth +Was always sooner to soften +Even than your eyes. +Now shut it lies +Relentless, however often +I kiss it in drouth. + +It has no breath +Nor any relaxing. Where, +Where are you, what have you done? +What is this mouth of stone? +How did you dare +Take cover in death! + +II + +Once you could see, +The white moon show like a breast revealed +By the slipping shawl of stars. +Could see the small stars tremble +As the heart beneath did wield +Systole, diastole. + +All the lovely macrocosm +Was woman once to you, +Bride to your groom. +No tree in bloom +But it leaned you a new +White bosom. + +And always and ever +Soft as a summering tree +Unfolds from the sky, for your good, +Unfolded womanhood; +Shedding you down as a tree +Sheds its flowers on a river. + +I saw your brows +Set like rocks beside a sea of gloom, +And I shed my very soul down into your + thought; +Like flowers I fell, to be caught +On the comforted pool, like bloom +That leaves the boughs. + +III + +Oh, masquerader, +With a hard face white-enamelled, +What are you now? +Do you care no longer how +My heart is trammelled, +Evader? + +Is this you, after all, +Metallic, obdurate +With bowels of steel? +Did you _never_ feel?-- +Cold, insensate, +Mechanical! + +Ah, no!--you multiform, +You that I loved, you wonderful, +You who darkened and shone, +You were many men in one; +But never this null +This never-warm! + +Is this the sum of you? +Is it all nought? +Cold, metal-cold? +Are you all told +Here, iron-wrought? +Is _this_ what's become of you? + + +SEVEN SEALS + +SINCE this is the last night I keep you home, +Come, I will consecrate you for the journey. + +Rather I had you would not go. Nay come, +I will not again reproach you. Lie back +And let me love you a long time ere you go. +For you are sullen-hearted still, and lack +The will to love me. But even so +I will set a seal upon you from my lip, +Will set a guard of honour at each door, +Seal up each channel out of which might slip +Your love for me. + + I kiss your mouth. Ah, love, +Could I but seal its ruddy, shining spring +Of passion, parch it up, destroy, remove +Its softly-stirring crimson welling-up +Of kisses! Oh, help me, God! Here at the source +I'd lie for ever drinking and drawing in +Your fountains, as heaven drinks from out their + course +The floods. + + I close your ears with kisses +And seal your nostrils; and round your neck you'll + wear-- +Nay, let me work--a delicate chain of kisses. +Like beads they go around, and not one misses +To touch its fellow on either side. + + And there +Full mid-between the champaign of your breast +I place a great and burning seal of love +Like a dark rose, a mystery of rest +On the slow bubbling of your rhythmic heart. + +Nay, I persist, and very faith shall keep +You integral to me. Each door, each mystic port +Of egress from you I will seal and steep +In perfect chrism. + Now it is done. The mort +Will sound in heaven before it is undone. + +But let me finish what I have begun +And shirt you now invulnerable in the mail +Of iron kisses, kisses linked like steel. +Put greaves upon your thighs and knees, and frail +Webbing of steel on your feet. So you shall feel +Ensheathed invulnerable with me, with seven +Great seals upon your outgoings, and woven +Chain of my mystic will wrapped perfectly +Upon you, wrapped in indomitable me. + + +READING A LETTER + +SHE sits on the recreation ground + Under an oak whose yellow buds dot the pale + blue sky. +The young grass twinkles in the wind, and the sound + Of the wind in the knotted buds in a canopy. + +So sitting under the knotted canopy + Of the wind, she is lifted and carried away as in + a balloon +Across the insensible void, till she stoops to see + The sandy desert beneath her, the dreary platoon. + +She knows the waste all dry beneath her, in one + place + Stirring with earth-coloured life, ever turning and + stirring. +But never the motion has a human face + Nor sound, save intermittent machinery whirring. + +And so again, on the recreation ground + She alights a stranger, wondering, unused to the + scene; +Suffering at sight of the children playing around, + Hurt at the chalk-coloured tulips, and the even- + ing-green. + + +TWENTY YEARS AGO + +ROUND the house were lilacs and strawberries + And foal-foots spangling the paths, +And far away on the sand-hills, dewberries + Caught dust from the sea's long swaths. + +Up the wolds the woods were walking, + And nuts fell out of their hair. +At the gate the nets hung, balking + The star-lit rush of a hare. + +In the autumn fields, the stubble + Tinkled the music of gleaning. +At a mother's knees, the trouble + Lost all its meaning. + +Yea, what good beginnings + To this sad end! +Have we had our innings? + God forfend! + + +INTIME + +RETURNING, I find her just the same, +At just the same old delicate game. + +Still she says: "Nay, loose no flame +To lick me up and do me harm! +Be all yourself!--for oh, the charm +Of your heart of fire in which I look! +Oh, better there than in any book +Glow and enact the dramas and dreams +I love for ever!--there it seems +You are lovelier than life itself, till desire +Comes licking through the bars of your lips +And over my face the stray fire slips, +Leaving a burn and an ugly smart +That will have the oil of illusion. Oh, heart +Of fire and beauty, loose no more +Your reptile flames of lust; ah, store +Your passion in the basket of your soul, +Be all yourself, one bonny, burning coal +That stays with steady joy of its own fire. +But do not seek to take me by desire. +Oh, do not seek to thrust on me your fire! +For in the firing all my porcelain +Of flesh does crackle and shiver and break in pain, +My ivory and marble black with stain, +My veil of sensitive mystery rent in twain, +My altars sullied, I, bereft, remain +A priestess execrable, taken in vain--" + + So the refrain +Sings itself over, and so the game +Re-starts itself wherein I am kept +Like a glowing brazier faintly blue of flame +So that the delicate love-adept +Can warm her hands and invite her soul, +Sprinkling incense and salt of words +And kisses pale, and sipping the toll +Of incense-smoke that rises like birds. + +Yet I've forgotten in playing this game, +Things I have known that shall have no name; +Forgetting the place from which I came +I watch her ward away the flame, +Yet warm herself at the fire--then blame +Me that I flicker in the basket; +Me that I glow not with content +To have my substance so subtly spent; +Me that I interrupt her game. +I ought to be proud that she should ask it +Of me to be her fire-opal--. + + It is well +Since I am here for so short a spell +Not to interrupt her?--Why should I +Break in by making any reply! + + +TWO WIVES + +I + +INTO the shadow-white chamber silts the white +Flux of another dawn. The wind that all night +Long has waited restless, suddenly wafts +A whirl like snow from the plum-trees and the pear, +Till petals heaped between the window-shafts + In a drift die there. + +A nurse in white, at the dawning, flower-foamed + pane +Draws down the blinds, whose shadows scarcely + stain +The white rugs on the floor, nor the silent bed +That rides the room like a frozen berg, its crest +Finally ridged with the austere line of the dead + Stretched out at rest. + +Less than a year the fourfold feet had pressed +The peaceful floor, when fell the sword on their rest. +Yet soon, too soon, she had him home again +With wounds between them, and suffering like a + guest +That will not go. Now suddenly going, the pain + Leaves an empty breast. + +II + +A tall woman, with her long white gown aflow +As she strode her limbs amongst it, once more +She hastened towards the room. Did she know +As she listened in silence outside the silent door? +Entering, she saw him in outline, raised on a pyre + Awaiting the fire. + +Upraised on the bed, with feet erect as a bow, +Like the prow of a boat, his head laid back like the + stern +Of a ship that stands in a shadowy sea of snow +With frozen rigging, she saw him; she drooped like + a fern +Refolding, she slipped to the floor as a ghost-white + peony slips + When the thread clips. + +Soft she lay as a shed flower fallen, nor heard +The ominous entry, nor saw the other love, +The dark, the grave-eyed mistress who thus dared +At such an hour to lay her claim, above +A stricken wife, so sunk in oblivion, bowed + With misery, no more proud. + +III + +The stranger's hair was shorn like a lad's dark poll +And pale her ivory face: her eyes would fail +In silence when she looked: for all the whole +Darkness of failure was in them, without avail. +Dark in indomitable failure, she who had lost + Now claimed the host, + +She softly passed the sorrowful flower shed +In blonde and white on the floor, nor even turned +Her head aside, but straight towards the bed +Moved with slow feet, and her eyes' flame steadily + burned. +She looked at him as he lay with banded cheek, + And she started to speak + +Softly: "I knew it would come to this," she said, +"I knew that some day, soon, I should find you thus. +So I did not fight you. You went your way instead +Of coming mine--and of the two of us +I died the first, I, in the after-life + Am now your wife." + +IV + +"'Twas I whose fingers did draw up the young +Plant of your body: to me you looked e'er sprung +The secret of the moon within your eyes! +My mouth you met before your fine red mouth +Was set to song--and never your song denies + My love, till you went south." + +"'Twas I who placed the bloom of manhood on +Your youthful smoothness: I fleeced where fleece + was none +Your fervent limbs with flickers and tendrils of new +Knowledge; I set your heart to its stronger beat; +I put my strength upon you, and I threw + My life at your feet." + +"But I whom the years had reared to be your bride, +Who for years was sun for your shivering, shade for + your sweat, +Who for one strange year was as a bride to you--you + set me aside +With all the old, sweet things of our youth;--and + never yet +Have I ceased to grieve that I was not great enough + To defeat your baser stuff." + +V + +"But you are given back again to me +Who have kept intact for you your virginity. +Who for the rest of life walk out of care, +Indifferent here of myself, since I am gone +Where you are gone, and you and I out there + Walk now as one." + +"Your widow am I, and only I. I dream +God bows his head and grants me this supreme +Pure look of your last dead face, whence now is gone +The mobility, the panther's gambolling, +And all your being is given to me, so none + Can mock my struggling." + +"And now at last I kiss your perfect face, +Perfecting now our unfinished, first embrace. +Your young hushed look that then saw God ablaze +In every bush, is given you back, and we +Are met at length to finish our rest of days + In a unity." + + +HEIMWEH + +FAR-OFF the lily-statues stand white-ranked in the + garden at home. +Would God they were shattered quickly, the cattle + would tread them out in the loam. +I wish the elder trees in flower could suddenly heave, + and burst +The walls of the house, and nettles puff out from + the hearth at which I was nursed. + +It stands so still in the hush composed of trees and + inviolate peace, +The home of my fathers, the place that is mine, my + fate and my old increase. +And now that the skies are falling, the world is + spouting in fountains of dirt, +I would give my soul for the homestead to fall with + me, go with me, both in one hurt. + + +DEBACLE + +THE trees in trouble because of autumn, + And scarlet berries falling from the bush, +And all the myriad houseless seeds + Loosing hold in the wind's insistent push + +Moan softly with autumnal parturition, + Poor, obscure fruits extruded out of light +Into the world of shadow, carried down + Between the bitter knees of the after-night. + +Bushed in an uncouth ardour, coiled at core + With a knot of life that only bliss can unravel, +Fall all the fruits most bitterly into earth + Bitterly into corrosion bitterly travel. + +What is it internecine that is locked, + By very fierceness into a quiescence +Within the rage? We shall not know till it burst + Out of corrosion into new florescence. + +Nay, but how tortured is the frightful seed + The spark intense within it, all without +Mordant corrosion gnashing and champing hard + For ruin on the naked small redoubt. + +Bitter, to fold the issue, and make no sally; + To have the mystery, but not go forth; +To bear, but retaliate nothing, given to save + The spark in storms of corrosion, as seeds from + the north. + +The sharper, more horrid the pressure, the harder + the heart + That saves the blue grain of eternal fire +Within its quick, committed to hold and wait + And suffer unheeding, only forbidden to expire. + + +NARCISSUS + +WHERE the minnows trace +A glinting web quick hid in the gloom of the brook, +When I think of the place +And remember the small lad lying intent to look +Through the shadowy face +At the little fish thread-threading the watery nook-- + +It seems to me +The woman you are should be nixie, there is a pool +Where we ought to be. +You undine-clear and pearly, soullessly cool +And waterly +The pool for my limbs to fathom, my soul's last + school. + +Narcissus +Ventured so long ago in the deeps of reflection. +Illyssus +Broke the bounds and beyond!--Dim recollection +Of fishes +Soundlessly moving in heaven's other direction! + +Be +Undine towards the waters, moving back; +For me +A pool! Put off the soul you've got, oh lack +Your human self immortal; take the watery track. + + +AUTUMN SUNSHINE + +THE sun sets out the autumn crocuses + And fills them up a pouring measure + Of death-producing wine, till treasure +Runs waste down their chalices. + +All, all Persephone's pale cups of mould + Are on the board, are over-filled; + The portion to the gods is spilled; +Now, mortals all, take hold! + +The time is now, the wine-cup full and full + Of lambent heaven, a pledging-cup; + Let now all mortal men take up +The drink, and a long, strong pull. + +Out of the hell-queen's cup, the heaven's pale wine-- + Drink then, invisible heroes, drink. + Lips to the vessels, never shrink, +Throats to the heavens incline. + +And take within the wine the god's great oath + By heaven and earth and hellish stream + To break this sick and nauseous dream +We writhe and lust in, both. + +Swear, in the pale wine poured from the cups of the + queen + Of hell, to wake and be free + From this nightmare we writhe in, +Break out of this foul has-been. + + +ON THAT DAY + + ON that day +I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave +With multitude of white roses: and since you were + brave + One bright red ray. + + So people, passing under +The ash-trees of the valley-road, will raise +Their eyes and look at the grave on the hill, in + wonder, + Wondering mount, and put the flowers asunder + + To see whose praise +Is blazoned here so white and so bloodily red. +Then they will say: "'Tis long since she is dead, + Who has remembered her after many days?" + + And standing there +They will consider how you went your ways +Unnoticed among them, a still queen lost in the + maze + Of this earthly affair. + + A queen, they'll say, +Has slept unnoticed on a forgotten hill. +Sleeps on unknown, unnoticed there, until + Dawns my insurgent day. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. 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H. Lawrence + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:15%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: New Poems + +Author: D. H. Lawrence + +Release Date: September 22, 2007 [EBook #22726] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS *** + + + + +Etext produced by Lewis Jones + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + NEW POEMS + </h1> + <h2> + By D. H. Lawrence + </h2> + <h4> + London: Martin Seeker + </h4> + <h3> + 1918 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + TO + </h3> + <h3> + AMY LOWELL + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> APPREHENSION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> COMING AWAKE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> FROM A COLLEGE WINDOW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> FLAPPER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> BIRDCAGE WALK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> LETTER FROM TOWN: THE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THIEF IN THE NIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> GIPSY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> TWO-FOLD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> UNDER THE OAK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> SIGH NO MORE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> LOVE STORM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> TARANTELLA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> IN CHURCH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> PIANO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> PHANTASMAGORIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> NEXT MORNING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> SICKNESS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> EVERLASTING FLOWERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> THE NORTH COUNTRY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> BITTERNESS OF DEATH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> SEVEN SEALS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> READING A LETTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> TWENTY YEARS AGO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> INTIME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> TWO WIVES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> HEIMWEH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> DEBACLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> NARCISSUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> AUTUMN SUNSHINE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> ON THAT DAY </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPREHENSION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +AND all hours long, the town + Roars like a beast in a cave + That is wounded there + And like to drown; + While days rush, wave after wave + On its lair. + + An invisible woe unseals + The flood, so it passes beyond + All bounds: the great old city + Recumbent roars as it feels + The foamy paw of the pond + Reach from immensity. + + But all that it can do + Now, as the tide rises, + Is to listen and hear the grim + Waves crash like thunder through + The splintered streets, hear noises + Roll hollow in the interim. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMING AWAKE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +WHEN I woke, the lake-lights were quivering on the + wall, + The sunshine swam in a shoal across and across, + And a hairy, big bee hung over the primulas + In the window, his body black fur, and the sound + of him cross. + + There was something I ought to remember: and + yet + I did not remember. Why should I? The run- + ning lights + And the airy primulas, oblivious + Of the impending bee—they were fair enough + sights. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM A COLLEGE WINDOW + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE glimmer of the limes, sun-heavy, sleeping, + Goes trembling past me up the College wall. + Below, the lawn, in soft blue shade is keeping, + The daisy-froth quiescent, softly in thrall. + + Beyond the leaves that overhang the street, + Along the flagged, clean pavement summer-white, + Passes the world with shadows at their feet + Going left and right. + + Remote, although I hear the beggar's cough, + See the woman's twinkling fingers tend him a + coin, + I sit absolved, assured I am better off + Beyond a world I never want to join. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FLAPPER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +LOVE has crept out of her sealéd heart + As a field-bee, black and amber, + Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber + Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start. + + Mischief has come in her dawning eyes, + And a glint of coloured iris brings + Such as lies along the folded wings + Of the bee before he flies. + + Who, with a ruffling, careful breath, + Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite? + Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight + In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth? + + Love makes the burden of her voice. + The hum of his heavy, staggering wings + Sets quivering with wisdom the common + things + That she says, and her words rejoice. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIRDCAGE WALK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +WHEN the wind blows her veil + And uncovers her laughter + I cease, I turn pale. + When the wind blows her veil + From the woes I bewail + Of love and hereafter: + When the wind blows her veil + I cease, I turn pale. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER FROM TOWN: THE + </h2> + <h3> + ALMOND TREE + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +YOU promised to send me some violets. Did you + forget? + White ones and blue ones from under the orchard + hedge? + Sweet dark purple, and white ones mixed for a + pledge + Of our early love that hardly has opened yet. + + Here there's an almond tree—you have never seen + Such a one in the north—it flowers on the street, + and I stand + Every day by the fence to look up for the flowers + that expand + At rest in the blue, and wonder at what they mean. + + Under the almond tree, the happy lands + Provence, Japan, and Italy repose, + And passing feet are chatter and clapping of + those + Who play around us, country girls clapping their + hands. + + You, my love, the foremost, in a flowered gown, + All your unbearable tenderness, you with the + laughter + Startled upon your eyes now so wide with here- + after, + You with loose hands of abandonment hanging + down. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE + </h2> + <h3> + MORNING + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE new red houses spring like plants + In level rows + Of reddish herbage that bristles and slants + Its square shadows. + + The pink young houses show one side bright + Flatly assuming the sun, + And one side shadow, half in sight, + Half-hiding the pavement-run; + + Where hastening creatures pass intent + On their level way, + Threading like ants that can never relent + And have nothing to say. + + Bare stems of street-lamps stiffly stand + At random, desolate twigs, + To testify to a blight on the land + That has stripped their sprigs. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THIEF IN THE NIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +LAST night a thief came to me + And struck at me with something dark. + I cried, but no one could hear me, + I lay dumb and stark. + + When I awoke this morning + I could find no trace; + Perhaps 'twas a dream of warning, + For I've lost my peace. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A + </h2> + <h3> + GREY EVENING IN MARCH + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE clouds are pushing in grey reluctance slowly + northward to you, + While north of them all, at the farthest ends, + stands one bright-bosomed, aglance + With fire as it guards the wild north cloud-coasts, + red-fire seas running through + The rocks where ravens flying to windward melt + as a well-shot lance. + + You should be out by the orchard, where violets + secretly darken the earth, + Or there in the woods of the twilight, with + northern wind-flowers shaken astir. + Think of me here in the library, trying and trying + a song that is worth + Tears and swords to my heart, arrows no armour + will turn or deter. + + You tell me the lambs have come, they lie like + daisies white in the grass + Of the dark-green hills; new calves in shed; + peewits turn after the plough— + It is well for you. For me the navvies work in the + road where I pass + And I want to smite in anger the barren rock of + each waterless brow. + + Like the sough of a wind that is caught up high in + the mesh of the budding trees, + A sudden car goes sweeping past, and I strain my + soul to hear + The voice of the furtive triumphant engine as it + rushes past like a breeze, + To hear on its mocking triumphance unwitting + the after-echo of fear. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O STIFFLY shapen houses that change not, + What conjuror's cloth was thrown across you, + and raised + To show you thus transfigured, changed, + Your stuff all gone, your menace almost rased? + + Such resolute shapes, so harshly set + In hollow blocks and cubes deformed, and heaped + In void and null profusion, how is this? + In what strong <i>aqua regia</i> now are you steeped? + + That you lose the brick-stuff out of you + And hover like a presentment, fading faint + And vanquished, evaporate away + To leave but only the merest possible taint! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE + </h2> + <h3> + THE WAR + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Clerks</i>. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +WE have shut the doors behind us, and the velvet + flowers of night + Lean about us scattering their pollen grains of + golden light. + + Now at last we lift our faces, and our faces come + aflower + To the night that takes us willing, liberates us to the + hour. + + Now at last the ink and dudgeon passes from our + fervent eyes + And out of the chambered weariness wanders a + spirit abroad on its enterprise. + + Not too near and not too far + Out of the stress of the crowd + Music screams as elephants scream + When they lift their trunks and scream aloud + For joy of the night when masters are + Asleep and adream. + + So here I hide in the Shalimar + With a wanton princess slender and proud, + And we swoon with kisses, swoon till we seem + Two streaming peacocks gone in a cloud + Of golden dust, with star after star + On our stream. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GIPSY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I, THE man with the red scarf, + Will give thee what I have, this last week's earn- + ings. + Take them, and buy thee a silver ring + And wed me, to ease my yearnings. + + For the rest, when thou art wedded + I'll wet my brow for thee + With sweat, I'll enter a house for thy sake, + Thou shalt shut doors on me. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWO-FOLD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How gorgeous that shock of red lilies, and larkspur + cleaving + All with a flash of blue!—when will she be leaving + Her room, where the night still hangs like a half- + folded bat, + And passion unbearable seethes in the darkness, like + must in a vat. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNDER THE OAK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You, if you were sensible, + When I tell you the stars flash signals, each one + dreadful, + You would not turn and answer me + "The night is wonderful." + + Even you, if you knew + How this darkness soaks me through and through, + and infuses + Unholy fear in my vapour, you would pause to dis- + tinguish + What hurts, from what amuses. + + For I tell you + Beneath this powerful tree, my whole soul's fluid + Oozes away from me as a sacrifice steam + At the knife of a Druid. + + Again I tell you, I bleed, I am bound with withies, + My life runs out. + I tell you my blood runs out on the floor of this oak, + Gout upon gout. + + Above me springs the blood-born mistletoe + In the shady smoke. + But who are you, twittering to and fro + Beneath the oak? + + What thing better are you, what worse? + What have you to do with the mysteries + Of this ancient place, of my ancient curse? + What place have you in my histories? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SIGH NO MORE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE cuckoo and the coo-dove's ceaseless calling, + Calling, + Of a meaningless monotony is palling + All my morning's pleasure in the sun-fleck-scattered + wood. + May-blossom and blue bird's-eye flowers falling, + Falling + In a litter through the elm-tree shade are scrawling + Messages of true-love down the dust of the high- + road. + I do not like to hear the gentle grieving, + Grieving + Of the she-dove in the blossom, still believing + Love will yet again return to her and make all good. + + When I know that there must ever be deceiving, + Deceiving + Of the mournful constant heart, that while she's + weaving + Her woes, her lover woos and sings within another + wood. + + Oh, boisterous the cuckoo shouts, forestalling, + Stalling + A progress down the intricate enthralling + By-paths where the wanton-headed flowers doff + their hood. + + And like a laughter leads me onward, heaving, + Heaving + A sigh among the shadows, thus retrieving + A decent short regret for that which once was very + good. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE STORM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +MANY roses in the wind + Are tapping at the window-sash. + A hawk is in the sky; his wings + Slowly begin to plash. + + The roses with the west wind rapping + Are torn away, and a splash + Of red goes down the billowing air. + + Still hangs the hawk, with the whole sky moving + Past him—only a wing-beat proving + The will that holds him there. + + The daisies in the grass are bending, + The hawk has dropped, the wind is spending + All the roses, and unending + Rustle of leaves washes out the rending + Cry of a bird. + + A red rose goes on the wind.—Ascending + The hawk his wind-swept way is wending + Easily down the sky. The daisies, sending + Strange white signals, seem intending + To show the place whence the scream was heard. + + But, oh, my heart, what birds are piping! + A silver wind is hastily wiping + The face of the youngest rose. + + And oh, my heart, cease apprehending! + The hawk is gone, a rose is tapping + The window-sash as the west-wind blows. + + Knock, knock, 'tis no more than a red rose rapping, + And fear is a plash of wings. + What, then, if a scarlet rose goes flapping + Down the bright-grey ruin of things! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE + </h2> + <h3> + EVENING + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE houses fade in a melt of mist + Blotching the thick, soiled air + With reddish places that still resist + The Night's slow care. + + The hopeless, wintry twilight fades, + The city corrodes out of sight + As the body corrodes when death invades + That citadel of delight. + + Now verdigris smoulderings softly spread + Through the shroud of the town, as slow + Night-lights hither and thither shed + Their ghastly glow. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Street-Walkers</i>. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +WHEN into the night the yellow light is roused like + dust above the towns, + Or like a mist the moon has kissed from off a pool in + the midst of the downs, + + Our faces flower for a little hour pale and uncertain + along the street, + Daisies that waken all mistaken white-spread in ex- + pectancy to meet + + The luminous mist which the poor things wist was + dawn arriving across the sky, + When dawn is far behind the star the dust-lit town + has driven so high. + + All the birds are folded in a silent ball of sleep, + All the flowers are faded from the asphalt isle in + the sea, + Only we hard-faced creatures go round and round, + and keep + The shores of this innermost ocean alive and + illusory. + + Wanton sparrows that twittered when morning + looked in at their eyes + And the Cyprian's pavement-roses are gone, and + now it is we + Flowers of illusion who shine in our gauds, make a + Paradise + On the shores of this ceaseless ocean, gay birds of + the town-dark sea. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TARANTELLA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +SAD as he sits on the white sea-stone + And the suave sea chuckles, and turns to the moon, + And the moon significant smiles at the cliffs and + the boulders. + He sits like a shade by the flood alone + While I dance a tarantella on the rocks, and the + croon + Of my mockery mocks at him over the waves' + bright shoulders. + + What can I do but dance alone, + Dance to the sliding sea and the moon, + For the moon on my breast and the air on my limbs + and the foam on my feet? + For surely this earnest man has none + Of the night in his soul, and none of the tune + Of the waters within him; only the world's old + wisdom to bleat. + + I wish a wild sea-fellow would come down the + glittering shingle, + A soulless neckar, with winking seas in his eyes + And falling waves in his arms, and the lost soul's kiss + On his lips: I long to be soulless, I tingle + To touch the sea in the last surprise + Of fiery coldness, to be gone in a lost soul's bliss. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN CHURCH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +IN the choir the boys are singing the hymn. + The morning light on their lips + Moves in silver-moist flashes, in musical trim. + + Sudden outside the high window, one crow + Hangs in the air + And lights on a withered oak-tree's top of woe. + + One bird, one blot, folded and still at the top + Of the withered tree!—in the grail + Of crystal heaven falls one full black drop. + + Like a soft full drop of darkness it seems to sway + In the tender wine + Of our Sabbath, suffusing our sacred day. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PIANO + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; + Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see + A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the + tingling strings + And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who + smiles as she sings. + + In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song + Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong + To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter + outside + And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano + our guide. + + So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour + With the great black piano appassionato. The + glamour + Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast + Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a + child for the past. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, + </h2> + <h3> + BEFORE THE WAR + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Charity</i>. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +BY the river + In the black wet night as the furtive rain slinks + down, + Dropping and starting from sleep + Alone on a seat + A woman crouches. + + I must go back to her. + + I want to give her + Some money. Her hand slips out of the breast of + her gown + Asleep. My fingers creep + Carefully over the sweet + Thumb-mound, into the palm's deep pouches. + + So, the gift! + + God, how she starts! + And looks at me, and looks in the palm of her hand! + And again at me! + I turn and run + Down the Embankment, run for my life. + + But why?—why? + + Because of my heart's + Beating like sobs, I come to myself, and stand + In the street spilled over splendidly + With wet, flat lights. What I've done + I know not, my soul is in strife. + + The touch was on the quick. I want to forget. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PHANTASMAGORIA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +RIGID sleeps the house in darkness, I alone + Like a thing unwarrantable cross the hall + And climb the stairs to find the group of doors + Standing angel-stern and tall. + + I want my own room's shelter. But what is this + Throng of startled beings suddenly thrown + In confusion against my entry? Is it only the trees' + Large shadows from the outside street lamp blown? + + Phantom to phantom leaning; strange women weep + Aloud, suddenly on my mind + Startling a fear unspeakable, as the shuddering wind + Breaks and sobs in the blind. + + So like to women, tall strange women weeping! + Why continually do they cross the bed? + Why does my soul contract with unnatural fear? + I am listening! Is anything said? + + Ever the long black figures swoop by the bed; + They seem to be beckoning, rushing away, and + beckoning. + Whither then, whither, what is it, say + What is the reckoning. + + Tall black Bacchae of midnight, why then, why + Do you rush to assail me? + Do I intrude on your rites nocturnal? + What should it avail me? + + Is there some great Iacchos of these slopes + Suburban dismal? + Have I profaned some female mystery, orgies + Black and phantasmal? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NEXT MORNING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How have I wandered here to this vaulted room + In the house of life?—the floor was ruffled with gold + Last evening, and she who was softly in bloom, + Glimmered as flowers that in perfume at twilight + unfold + + For the flush of the night; whereas now the gloom + Of every dirty, must-besprinkled mould, + And damp old web of misery's heirloom + Deadens this day's grey-dropping arras-fold. + + And what is this that floats on the undermist + Of the mirror towards the dusty grate, as if feeling + Unsightly its way to the warmth?—this thing with + a list + To the left? this ghost like a candle swealing? + + Pale-blurred, with two round black drops, as if it + missed + Itself among everything else, here hungrily stealing + Upon me!—my own reflection!—explicit gist + Of my presence there in the mirror that leans from + the ceiling! + + Then will somebody square this shade with the + being I know + I was last night, when my soul rang clear as a bell + And happy as rain in summer? Why should it be + so? + What is there gone against me, why am I in hell? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DARKNESS comes out of the earth + And swallows dip into the pallor of the west; + From the hay comes the clamour of children's + mirth; + Wanes the old palimpsest. + + The night-stock oozes scent, + And a moon-blue moth goes flittering by: + All that the worldly day has meant + Wastes like a lie. + + The children have forsaken their play; + A single star in a veil of light + Glimmers: litter of day + Is gone from sight. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, + </h2> + <h3> + BEFORE THE WAR + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Outcasts</i>. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE night rain, dripping unseen, + Comes endlessly kissing my face and my hands. + + The river, slipping between + Lamps, is rayed with golden bands + Half way down its heaving sides; + Revealed where it hides. + + Under the bridge + Great electric cars + Sing through, and each with a floor-light racing + along at its side. + Far off, oh, midge after midge + Drifts over the gulf that bars + The night with silence, crossing the lamp-touched + tide. + + At Charing Cross, here, beneath the bridge + Sleep in a row the outcasts, + Packed in a line with their heads against the wall. + Their feet, in a broken ridge + Stretch out on the way, and a lout casts + A look as he stands on the edge of this naked stall. + + Beasts that sleep will cover + Their faces in their flank; so these + Have huddled rags or limbs on the naked sleep. + Save, as the tram-cars hover + Past with the noise of a breeze + And gleam as of sunshine crossing the low black heap, + + Two naked faces are seen + Bare and asleep, + Two pale clots swept and swept by the light of the + cars. + Foam-clots showing between + The long, low tidal-heap, + The mud-weed opening two pale, shadowless stars. + + Over the pallor of only two faces + Passes the gallivant beam of the trams; + Shows in only two sad places + The white bare bone of our shams. + + A little, bearded man, pale, peaked in sleeping, + With a face like a chickweed flower. + And a heavy woman, sleeping still keeping + Callous and dour. + + Over the pallor of only two places + Tossed on the low, black, ruffled heap + Passes the light of the tram as it races + Out of the deep. + + Eloquent limbs + In disarray + Sleep-suave limbs of a youth with long, smooth + thighs + Hutched up for warmth; the muddy rims + Of trousers fray + On the thin bare shins of a man who uneasily lies. + + The balls of five red toes + As red and dirty, bare + Young birds forsaken and left in a nest of mud— + Newspaper sheets enclose + Some limbs like parcels, and tear + When the sleeper stirs or turns on the ebb of the + flood— + + One heaped mound + Of a woman's knees + As she thrusts them upward under the ruffled skirt— + And a curious dearth of sound + In the presence of these + Wastrels that sleep on the flagstones without any + hurt. + + Over two shadowless, shameless faces + Stark on the heap + Travels the light as it tilts in its paces + Gone in one leap. + + At the feet of the sleepers, watching, + Stand those that wait + For a place to lie down; and still as they stand, + they sleep, + Wearily catching + The flood's slow gait + Like men who are drowned, but float erect in the + deep. + + Oh, the singing mansions, + Golden-lighted tall + Trams that pass, blown ruddily down the night! + The bridge on its stanchions + Stoops like a pall + To this human blight. + + On the outer pavement, slowly, + Theatre people pass, + Holding aloft their umbrellas that flash and are + bright + Like flowers of infernal moly + Over nocturnal grass + Wetly bobbing and drifting away on our sight. + + And still by the rotten + Row of shattered feet, + Outcasts keep guard. + Forgotten, + Forgetting, till fate shall delete + One from the ward. + + The factories on the Surrey side + Are beautifully laid in black on a gold-grey sky. + The river's invisible tide + Threads and thrills like ore that is wealth to the eye. + + And great gold midges + Cross the chasm + At the bridges + Above intertwined plasm. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE frost has settled down upon the trees + And ruthlessly strangled off the fantasies + Of leaves that have gone unnoticed, swept like old + Romantic stories now no more to be told. + + The trees down the boulevard stand naked in + thought, + Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught + In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront + Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt. + + Has some hand balanced more leaves in the depths + of the twigs? + Some dim little efforts placed in the threads of the + birch?— + It is only the sparrows, like dead black leaves on + the sprigs, + Sitting huddled against the cerulean, one flesh with + their perch. + + The clear, cold sky coldly bethinks itself. + Like vivid thought the air spins bright, and all + Trees, birds, and earth, arrested in the after-thought + Awaiting the sentence out from the welkin brought. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How different, in the middle of snows, the great + school rises red! + A red rock silent and shadowless, clung round + with clusters of shouting lads, + Some few dark-cleaving the doorway, souls that + cling as the souls of the dead + In stupor persist at the gates of life, obstinate + dark monads. + + This new red rock in a waste of white rises against + the day + With shelter now, and with blandishment, since + the winds have had their way + And laid the desert horrific of silence and snow on + the world of mankind, + School now is the rock in this weary land the winter + burns and makes blind. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SICKNESS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +WAVING slowly before me, pushed into the dark, + Unseen my hands explore the silence, drawing the + bark + Of my body slowly behind. + + Nothing to meet my fingers but the fleece of night + Invisible blinding my face and my eyes! What if + in their flight + My hands should touch the door! + + What if I suddenly stumble, and push the door + Open, and a great grey dawn swirls over my feet, + before + I can draw back! + + What if unwitting I set the door of eternity wide + And am swept away in the horrible dawn, am gone + down the tide + Of eternal hereafter! + + Catch my hands, my darling, between your breasts. + Take them away from their venture, before fate + wrests + The meaning out of them. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EVERLASTING FLOWERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +WHO do you think stands watching + The snow-tops shining rosy + In heaven, now that the darkness + Takes all but the tallest posy? + + Who then sees the two-winged + Boat down there, all alone + And asleep on the snow's last shadow, + Like a moth on a stone? + + The olive-leaves, light as gad-flies, + Have all gone dark, gone black. + And now in the dark my soul to you + Turns back. + + To you, my little darling, + To you, out of Italy. + For what is loveliness, my love, + Save you have it with me! + + So, there's an oxen wagon + Comes darkly into sight: + A man with a lantern, swinging + A little light. + + What does he see, my darling + Here by the darkened lake? + Here, in the sloping shadow + The mountains make? + + He says not a word, but passes, + Staring at what he sees. + What ghost of us both do you think he saw + Under the olive trees? + + All the things that are lovely— + The things you never knew— + I wanted to gather them one by one + And bring them to you. + + But never now, my darling + Can I gather the mountain-tips + From the twilight like half-shut lilies + To hold to your lips. + + And never the two-winged vessel + That sleeps below on the lake + Can I catch like a moth between my hands + For you to take. + + But hush, I am not regretting: + It is far more perfect now. + I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world + And tell them how + + I know you here in the darkness, + How you sit in the throne of my eyes + At peace, and look out of the windows + In glad surprise. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE NORTH COUNTRY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +IN another country, black poplars shake them- + selves over a pond, + And rooks and the rising smoke-waves scatter and + wheel from the works beyond; + The air is dark with north and with sulphur, the + grass is a darker green, + And people darkly invested with purple move + palpable through the scene. + + Soundlessly down across the counties, out of the + resonant gloom + That wraps the north in stupor and purple travels + the deep, slow boom + Of the man-life north-imprisoned, shut in the hum + of the purpled steel + As it spins to sleep on its motion, drugged dense in + the sleep of the wheel. + + Out of the sleep, from the gloom of motion, sound- + lessly, somnambule + Moans and booms the soul of a people imprisoned, + asleep in the rule + Of the strong machine that runs mesmeric, booming + the spell of its word + Upon them and moving them helpless, mechanic, + their will to its will deferred. + + Yet all the while comes the droning inaudible, out + of the violet air, + The moaning of sleep-bound beings in travail that + toil and are will-less there + In the spell-bound north, convulsive now with a + dream near morning, strong + With violent achings heaving to burst the sleep + that is now not long. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BITTERNESS OF DEATH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +AH, stern, cold man, + How can you lie so relentless hard + While I wash you with weeping water! + Do you set your face against the daughter + Of life? Can you never discard + Your curt pride's ban? + + You masquerader! + How can you shame to act this part + Of unswerving indifference to me? + You want at last, ah me! + To break my heart + Evader! + + You know your mouth + Was always sooner to soften + Even than your eyes. + Now shut it lies + Relentless, however often + I kiss it in drouth. + + It has no breath + Nor any relaxing. Where, + Where are you, what have you done? + What is this mouth of stone? + How did you dare + Take cover in death! +</pre> + <h3> + II + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Once you could see, + The white moon show like a breast revealed + By the slipping shawl of stars. + Could see the small stars tremble + As the heart beneath did wield + Systole, diastole. + + All the lovely macrocosm + Was woman once to you, + Bride to your groom. + No tree in bloom + But it leaned you a new + White bosom. + + And always and ever + Soft as a summering tree + Unfolds from the sky, for your good, + Unfolded womanhood; + Shedding you down as a tree + Sheds its flowers on a river. + + I saw your brows + Set like rocks beside a sea of gloom, + And I shed my very soul down into your + thought; + Like flowers I fell, to be caught + On the comforted pool, like bloom + That leaves the boughs. +</pre> + <h3> + III + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, masquerader, + With a hard face white-enamelled, + What are you now? + Do you care no longer how + My heart is trammelled, + Evader? + + Is this you, after all, + Metallic, obdurate + With bowels of steel? + Did you <i>never</i> feel?— + Cold, insensate, + Mechanical! + + Ah, no!—you multiform, + You that I loved, you wonderful, + You who darkened and shone, + You were many men in one; + But never this null + This never-warm! + + Is this the sum of you? + Is it all nought? + Cold, metal-cold? + Are you all told + Here, iron-wrought? + Is <i>this</i> what's become of you? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEVEN SEALS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +SINCE this is the last night I keep you home, + Come, I will consecrate you for the journey. + + Rather I had you would not go. Nay come, + I will not again reproach you. Lie back + And let me love you a long time ere you go. + For you are sullen-hearted still, and lack + The will to love me. But even so + I will set a seal upon you from my lip, + Will set a guard of honour at each door, + Seal up each channel out of which might slip + Your love for me. + + I kiss your mouth. Ah, love, + Could I but seal its ruddy, shining spring + Of passion, parch it up, destroy, remove + Its softly-stirring crimson welling-up + Of kisses! Oh, help me, God! Here at the source + I'd lie for ever drinking and drawing in + Your fountains, as heaven drinks from out their + course + The floods. + + I close your ears with kisses + And seal your nostrils; and round your neck you'll + wear— + Nay, let me work—a delicate chain of kisses. + Like beads they go around, and not one misses + To touch its fellow on either side. + + And there + Full mid-between the champaign of your breast + I place a great and burning seal of love + Like a dark rose, a mystery of rest + On the slow bubbling of your rhythmic heart. + + Nay, I persist, and very faith shall keep + You integral to me. Each door, each mystic port + Of egress from you I will seal and steep + In perfect chrism. + Now it is done. The mort + Will sound in heaven before it is undone. + + But let me finish what I have begun + And shirt you now invulnerable in the mail + Of iron kisses, kisses linked like steel. + Put greaves upon your thighs and knees, and frail + Webbing of steel on your feet. So you shall feel + Ensheathed invulnerable with me, with seven + Great seals upon your outgoings, and woven + Chain of my mystic will wrapped perfectly + Upon you, wrapped in indomitable me. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + READING A LETTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +SHE sits on the recreation ground + Under an oak whose yellow buds dot the pale + blue sky. + The young grass twinkles in the wind, and the sound + Of the wind in the knotted buds in a canopy. + + So sitting under the knotted canopy + Of the wind, she is lifted and carried away as in + a balloon + Across the insensible void, till she stoops to see + The sandy desert beneath her, the dreary platoon. + + She knows the waste all dry beneath her, in one + place + Stirring with earth-coloured life, ever turning and + stirring. + But never the motion has a human face + Nor sound, save intermittent machinery whirring. + + And so again, on the recreation ground + She alights a stranger, wondering, unused to the + scene; + Suffering at sight of the children playing around, + Hurt at the chalk-coloured tulips, and the even- + ing-green. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWENTY YEARS AGO + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +ROUND the house were lilacs and strawberries + And foal-foots spangling the paths, + And far away on the sand-hills, dewberries + Caught dust from the sea's long swaths. + + Up the wolds the woods were walking, + And nuts fell out of their hair. + At the gate the nets hung, balking + The star-lit rush of a hare. + + In the autumn fields, the stubble + Tinkled the music of gleaning. + At a mother's knees, the trouble + Lost all its meaning. + + Yea, what good beginnings + To this sad end! + Have we had our innings? + God forfend! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTIME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +RETURNING, I find her just the same, + At just the same old delicate game. + + Still she says: "Nay, loose no flame + To lick me up and do me harm! + Be all yourself!—for oh, the charm + Of your heart of fire in which I look! + Oh, better there than in any book + Glow and enact the dramas and dreams + I love for ever!—there it seems + You are lovelier than life itself, till desire + Comes licking through the bars of your lips + And over my face the stray fire slips, + Leaving a burn and an ugly smart + That will have the oil of illusion. Oh, heart + Of fire and beauty, loose no more + Your reptile flames of lust; ah, store + Your passion in the basket of your soul, + Be all yourself, one bonny, burning coal + That stays with steady joy of its own fire. + But do not seek to take me by desire. + Oh, do not seek to thrust on me your fire! + For in the firing all my porcelain + Of flesh does crackle and shiver and break in pain, + My ivory and marble black with stain, + My veil of sensitive mystery rent in twain, + My altars sullied, I, bereft, remain + A priestess execrable, taken in vain—" + + So the refrain + Sings itself over, and so the game + Re-starts itself wherein I am kept + Like a glowing brazier faintly blue of flame + So that the delicate love-adept + Can warm her hands and invite her soul, + Sprinkling incense and salt of words + And kisses pale, and sipping the toll + Of incense-smoke that rises like birds. + + Yet I've forgotten in playing this game, + Things I have known that shall have no name; + Forgetting the place from which I came + I watch her ward away the flame, + Yet warm herself at the fire—then blame + Me that I flicker in the basket; + Me that I glow not with content + To have my substance so subtly spent; + Me that I interrupt her game. + I ought to be proud that she should ask it + Of me to be her fire-opal—. + + It is well + Since I am here for so short a spell + Not to interrupt her?—Why should I + Break in by making any reply! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWO WIVES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +INTO the shadow-white chamber silts the white + Flux of another dawn. The wind that all night + Long has waited restless, suddenly wafts + A whirl like snow from the plum-trees and the pear, + Till petals heaped between the window-shafts + In a drift die there. + + A nurse in white, at the dawning, flower-foamed + pane + Draws down the blinds, whose shadows scarcely + stain + The white rugs on the floor, nor the silent bed + That rides the room like a frozen berg, its crest + Finally ridged with the austere line of the dead + Stretched out at rest. + + Less than a year the fourfold feet had pressed + The peaceful floor, when fell the sword on their rest. + Yet soon, too soon, she had him home again + With wounds between them, and suffering like a + guest + That will not go. Now suddenly going, the pain + Leaves an empty breast. +</pre> + <h3> + II + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A tall woman, with her long white gown aflow + As she strode her limbs amongst it, once more + She hastened towards the room. Did she know + As she listened in silence outside the silent door? + Entering, she saw him in outline, raised on a pyre + Awaiting the fire. + + Upraised on the bed, with feet erect as a bow, + Like the prow of a boat, his head laid back like the + stern + Of a ship that stands in a shadowy sea of snow + With frozen rigging, she saw him; she drooped like + a fern + Refolding, she slipped to the floor as a ghost-white + peony slips + When the thread clips. + + Soft she lay as a shed flower fallen, nor heard + The ominous entry, nor saw the other love, + The dark, the grave-eyed mistress who thus dared + At such an hour to lay her claim, above + A stricken wife, so sunk in oblivion, bowed + With misery, no more proud. +</pre> + <h3> + III + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The stranger's hair was shorn like a lad's dark poll + And pale her ivory face: her eyes would fail + In silence when she looked: for all the whole + Darkness of failure was in them, without avail. + Dark in indomitable failure, she who had lost + Now claimed the host, + + She softly passed the sorrowful flower shed + In blonde and white on the floor, nor even turned + Her head aside, but straight towards the bed + Moved with slow feet, and her eyes' flame steadily + burned. + She looked at him as he lay with banded cheek, + And she started to speak + + Softly: "I knew it would come to this," she said, + "I knew that some day, soon, I should find you thus. + So I did not fight you. You went your way instead + Of coming mine—and of the two of us + I died the first, I, in the after-life + Am now your wife." +</pre> + <h3> + IV + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "'Twas I whose fingers did draw up the young + Plant of your body: to me you looked e'er sprung + The secret of the moon within your eyes! + My mouth you met before your fine red mouth + Was set to song—and never your song denies + My love, till you went south." + + "'Twas I who placed the bloom of manhood on + Your youthful smoothness: I fleeced where fleece + was none + Your fervent limbs with flickers and tendrils of new + Knowledge; I set your heart to its stronger beat; + I put my strength upon you, and I threw + My life at your feet." + + "But I whom the years had reared to be your bride, + Who for years was sun for your shivering, shade for + your sweat, + Who for one strange year was as a bride to you—you + set me aside + With all the old, sweet things of our youth;—and + never yet + Have I ceased to grieve that I was not great enough + To defeat your baser stuff." + + V + + "But you are given back again to me + Who have kept intact for you your virginity. + Who for the rest of life walk out of care, + Indifferent here of myself, since I am gone + Where you are gone, and you and I out there + Walk now as one." + + "Your widow am I, and only I. I dream + God bows his head and grants me this supreme + Pure look of your last dead face, whence now is gone + The mobility, the panther's gambolling, + And all your being is given to me, so none + Can mock my struggling." + + "And now at last I kiss your perfect face, + Perfecting now our unfinished, first embrace. + Your young hushed look that then saw God ablaze + In every bush, is given you back, and we + Are met at length to finish our rest of days + In a unity." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HEIMWEH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +FAR-OFF the lily-statues stand white-ranked in the + garden at home. + Would God they were shattered quickly, the cattle + would tread them out in the loam. + I wish the elder trees in flower could suddenly heave, + and burst + The walls of the house, and nettles puff out from + the hearth at which I was nursed. + + It stands so still in the hush composed of trees and + inviolate peace, + The home of my fathers, the place that is mine, my + fate and my old increase. + And now that the skies are falling, the world is + spouting in fountains of dirt, + I would give my soul for the homestead to fall with + me, go with me, both in one hurt. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DEBACLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE trees in trouble because of autumn, + And scarlet berries falling from the bush, + And all the myriad houseless seeds + Loosing hold in the wind's insistent push + + Moan softly with autumnal parturition, + Poor, obscure fruits extruded out of light + Into the world of shadow, carried down + Between the bitter knees of the after-night. + + Bushed in an uncouth ardour, coiled at core + With a knot of life that only bliss can unravel, + Fall all the fruits most bitterly into earth + Bitterly into corrosion bitterly travel. + + What is it internecine that is locked, + By very fierceness into a quiescence + Within the rage? We shall not know till it burst + Out of corrosion into new florescence. + + Nay, but how tortured is the frightful seed + The spark intense within it, all without + Mordant corrosion gnashing and champing hard + For ruin on the naked small redoubt. + + Bitter, to fold the issue, and make no sally; + To have the mystery, but not go forth; + To bear, but retaliate nothing, given to save + The spark in storms of corrosion, as seeds from + the north. + + The sharper, more horrid the pressure, the harder + the heart + That saves the blue grain of eternal fire + Within its quick, committed to hold and wait + And suffer unheeding, only forbidden to expire. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NARCISSUS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +WHERE the minnows trace + A glinting web quick hid in the gloom of the brook, + When I think of the place + And remember the small lad lying intent to look + Through the shadowy face + At the little fish thread-threading the watery nook— + + It seems to me + The woman you are should be nixie, there is a pool + Where we ought to be. + You undine-clear and pearly, soullessly cool + And waterly + The pool for my limbs to fathom, my soul's last + school. + + Narcissus + Ventured so long ago in the deeps of reflection. + Illyssus + Broke the bounds and beyond!—Dim recollection + Of fishes + Soundlessly moving in heaven's other direction! + + Be + Undine towards the waters, moving back; + For me + A pool! Put off the soul you've got, oh lack + Your human self immortal; take the watery track. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AUTUMN SUNSHINE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE sun sets out the autumn crocuses + And fills them up a pouring measure + Of death-producing wine, till treasure + Runs waste down their chalices. + + All, all Persephone's pale cups of mould + Are on the board, are over-filled; + The portion to the gods is spilled; + Now, mortals all, take hold! + + The time is now, the wine-cup full and full + Of lambent heaven, a pledging-cup; + Let now all mortal men take up + The drink, and a long, strong pull. + + Out of the hell-queen's cup, the heaven's pale wine— + Drink then, invisible heroes, drink. + Lips to the vessels, never shrink, + Throats to the heavens incline. + + And take within the wine the god's great oath + By heaven and earth and hellish stream + To break this sick and nauseous dream + We writhe and lust in, both. + + Swear, in the pale wine poured from the cups of the + queen + Of hell, to wake and be free + From this nightmare we writhe in, + Break out of this foul has-been. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ON THAT DAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ON that day + I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave + With multitude of white roses: and since you were + brave + One bright red ray. + + So people, passing under + The ash-trees of the valley-road, will raise + Their eyes and look at the grave on the hill, in + wonder, + Wondering mount, and put the flowers asunder + + To see whose praise + Is blazoned here so white and so bloodily red. + Then they will say: "'Tis long since she is dead, + Who has remembered her after many days?" + + And standing there + They will consider how you went your ways + Unnoticed among them, a still queen lost in the + maze + Of this earthly affair. + + A queen, they'll say, + Has slept unnoticed on a forgotten hill. + Sleeps on unknown, unnoticed there, until + Dawns my insurgent day. +</pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 22726-h.htm or 22726-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/2/22726/ + +Etext produced by Lewis Jones + +HTML file produce by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Lawrence + +Release Date: September 22, 2007 [EBook #22726] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Lewis Jones + + + + + +D.H. Lawrence (1918) _New Poems_ + + + +NEW POEMS + + + +POEMS BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + LOVE POEMS AND OTHERS + AMORES + LOOK, WE HAVE COME THROUGH + + + +FIRST PUBLISHED, OCTOBER, 1918 +NEW EDITION (RESET), AUGUST, 1919 + + + +New Poems + +By D. H. Lawrence + + + +London: Martin Seeker + + + +TO +AMY LOWELL + + + +THE LONDON AND NORWICH PRESS, LIMITED, LONDON AND NORWICH, ENGLAND + + + +CONTENTS + +Apprehension +Coming Awake +From a College Window +Flapper +Birdcage Walk +Letter from Town: The Almond Tree +Flat Suburbs, S.W., in the Morning +Thief in the Night +Letter from Town: On a Grey Evening in March +Suburbs on a Hazy Day +Hyde Park at Night: Clerks +Gipsy +Two-Fold +Under the Oak +Sigh no More +Love Storm +Parliament Hill in the Evening +Piccadilly Circus at Night: Street Walkers +Tarantella +In Church +Piano +Embankment at Night: Charity +Phantasmagoria +Next Morning +Palimpsest of Twilight +Embankment at Night: Outcasts +Winter in the Boulevard +School on the Outskirts +Sickness +Everlasting Flowers +The North Country +Bitterness of Death +Seven Seals +Reading a Letter +Twenty Years Ago +Intime +Two Wives +Heimweh +Debacle +Narcissus +Autumn Sunshine +On That Day + + + +APPREHENSION + +AND all hours long, the town + Roars like a beast in a cave +That is wounded there +And like to drown; + While days rush, wave after wave +On its lair. + +An invisible woe unseals + The flood, so it passes beyond +All bounds: the great old city +Recumbent roars as it feels + The foamy paw of the pond +Reach from immensity. + +But all that it can do + Now, as the tide rises, +Is to listen and hear the grim +Waves crash like thunder through + The splintered streets, hear noises +Roll hollow in the interim. + + +COMING AWAKE + +WHEN I woke, the lake-lights were quivering on the + wall, +The sunshine swam in a shoal across and across, +And a hairy, big bee hung over the primulas +In the window, his body black fur, and the sound + of him cross. + +There was something I ought to remember: and + yet +I did not remember. Why should I? The run- + ning lights +And the airy primulas, oblivious +Of the impending bee--they were fair enough + sights. + + +FROM A COLLEGE WINDOW + +THE glimmer of the limes, sun-heavy, sleeping, + Goes trembling past me up the College wall. +Below, the lawn, in soft blue shade is keeping, + The daisy-froth quiescent, softly in thrall. + +Beyond the leaves that overhang the street, + Along the flagged, clean pavement summer-white, +Passes the world with shadows at their feet + Going left and right. + +Remote, although I hear the beggar's cough, + See the woman's twinkling fingers tend him a + coin, +I sit absolved, assured I am better off + Beyond a world I never want to join. + + +FLAPPER + +LOVE has crept out of her sealed heart + As a field-bee, black and amber, + Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber +Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start. + +Mischief has come in her dawning eyes, + And a glint of coloured iris brings + Such as lies along the folded wings +Of the bee before he flies. + +Who, with a ruffling, careful breath, + Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite? + Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight +In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth? + +Love makes the burden of her voice. + The hum of his heavy, staggering wings + Sets quivering with wisdom the common + things +That she says, and her words rejoice. + + +BIRDCAGE WALK + +WHEN the wind blows her veil + And uncovers her laughter +I cease, I turn pale. +When the wind blows her veil +From the woes I bewail + Of love and hereafter: +When the wind blows her veil +I cease, I turn pale. + + +LETTER FROM TOWN: THE +ALMOND TREE + +YOU promised to send me some violets. Did you + forget? + White ones and blue ones from under the orchard + hedge? + Sweet dark purple, and white ones mixed for a + pledge +Of our early love that hardly has opened yet. + +Here there's an almond tree--you have never seen + Such a one in the north--it flowers on the street, + and I stand + Every day by the fence to look up for the flowers + that expand +At rest in the blue, and wonder at what they mean. + +Under the almond tree, the happy lands + Provence, Japan, and Italy repose, + And passing feet are chatter and clapping of + those +Who play around us, country girls clapping their + hands. + +You, my love, the foremost, in a flowered gown, + All your unbearable tenderness, you with the + laughter + Startled upon your eyes now so wide with here- + after, +You with loose hands of abandonment hanging + down. + + +FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE +MORNING + +THE new red houses spring like plants + In level rows +Of reddish herbage that bristles and slants + Its square shadows. + +The pink young houses show one side bright + Flatly assuming the sun, +And one side shadow, half in sight, + Half-hiding the pavement-run; + +Where hastening creatures pass intent + On their level way, +Threading like ants that can never relent + And have nothing to say. + +Bare stems of street-lamps stiffly stand + At random, desolate twigs, +To testify to a blight on the land + That has stripped their sprigs. + + + +THIEF IN THE NIGHT + +LAST night a thief came to me + And struck at me with something dark. +I cried, but no one could hear me, + I lay dumb and stark. + +When I awoke this morning + I could find no trace; +Perhaps 'twas a dream of warning, + For I've lost my peace. + + +LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A +GREY EVENING IN MARCH + +THE clouds are pushing in grey reluctance slowly + northward to you, +While north of them all, at the farthest ends, + stands one bright-bosomed, aglance +With fire as it guards the wild north cloud-coasts, + red-fire seas running through +The rocks where ravens flying to windward melt + as a well-shot lance. + +You should be out by the orchard, where violets + secretly darken the earth, +Or there in the woods of the twilight, with + northern wind-flowers shaken astir. +Think of me here in the library, trying and trying + a song that is worth +Tears and swords to my heart, arrows no armour + will turn or deter. + +You tell me the lambs have come, they lie like + daisies white in the grass +Of the dark-green hills; new calves in shed; + peewits turn after the plough-- +It is well for you. For me the navvies work in the + road where I pass +And I want to smite in anger the barren rock of + each waterless brow. + +Like the sough of a wind that is caught up high in + the mesh of the budding trees, +A sudden car goes sweeping past, and I strain my + soul to hear +The voice of the furtive triumphant engine as it + rushes past like a breeze, +To hear on its mocking triumphance unwitting + the after-echo of fear. + + +SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY + +O STIFFLY shapen houses that change not, + What conjuror's cloth was thrown across you, + and raised +To show you thus transfigured, changed, + Your stuff all gone, your menace almost rased? + +Such resolute shapes, so harshly set + In hollow blocks and cubes deformed, and heaped +In void and null profusion, how is this? + In what strong _aqua regia_ now are you steeped? + +That you lose the brick-stuff out of you + And hover like a presentment, fading faint +And vanquished, evaporate away + To leave but only the merest possible taint! + + +HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE +THE WAR + +_Clerks_. + +WE have shut the doors behind us, and the velvet + flowers of night +Lean about us scattering their pollen grains of + golden light. + +Now at last we lift our faces, and our faces come + aflower +To the night that takes us willing, liberates us to the + hour. + +Now at last the ink and dudgeon passes from our + fervent eyes +And out of the chambered weariness wanders a + spirit abroad on its enterprise. + + Not too near and not too far + Out of the stress of the crowd + Music screams as elephants scream + When they lift their trunks and scream aloud + For joy of the night when masters are + Asleep and adream. + + So here I hide in the Shalimar + With a wanton princess slender and proud, + And we swoon with kisses, swoon till we seem + Two streaming peacocks gone in a cloud + Of golden dust, with star after star + On our stream. + + +GIPSY + +I, THE man with the red scarf, + Will give thee what I have, this last week's earn- + ings. +Take them, and buy thee a silver ring + And wed me, to ease my yearnings. + +For the rest, when thou art wedded + I'll wet my brow for thee +With sweat, I'll enter a house for thy sake, + Thou shalt shut doors on me. + + +TWO-FOLD + +How gorgeous that shock of red lilies, and larkspur + cleaving +All with a flash of blue!--when will she be leaving +Her room, where the night still hangs like a half- + folded bat, +And passion unbearable seethes in the darkness, like + must in a vat. + + +UNDER THE OAK + +You, if you were sensible, +When I tell you the stars flash signals, each one + dreadful, +You would not turn and answer me +"The night is wonderful." + +Even you, if you knew +How this darkness soaks me through and through, + and infuses +Unholy fear in my vapour, you would pause to dis- + tinguish +What hurts, from what amuses. + +For I tell you +Beneath this powerful tree, my whole soul's fluid +Oozes away from me as a sacrifice steam +At the knife of a Druid. + +Again I tell you, I bleed, I am bound with withies, +My life runs out. +I tell you my blood runs out on the floor of this oak, +Gout upon gout. + +Above me springs the blood-born mistletoe +In the shady smoke. +But who are you, twittering to and fro +Beneath the oak? + +What thing better are you, what worse? +What have you to do with the mysteries +Of this ancient place, of my ancient curse? +What place have you in my histories? + + +SIGH NO MORE + +THE cuckoo and the coo-dove's ceaseless calling, + Calling, +Of a meaningless monotony is palling +All my morning's pleasure in the sun-fleck-scattered + wood. +May-blossom and blue bird's-eye flowers falling, + Falling +In a litter through the elm-tree shade are scrawling +Messages of true-love down the dust of the high- + road. +I do not like to hear the gentle grieving, + Grieving +Of the she-dove in the blossom, still believing +Love will yet again return to her and make all good. + +When I know that there must ever be deceiving, + Deceiving +Of the mournful constant heart, that while she's + weaving +Her woes, her lover woos and sings within another + wood. + +Oh, boisterous the cuckoo shouts, forestalling, + Stalling +A progress down the intricate enthralling +By-paths where the wanton-headed flowers doff + their hood. + +And like a laughter leads me onward, heaving, + Heaving +A sigh among the shadows, thus retrieving +A decent short regret for that which once was very + good. + + +LOVE STORM + +MANY roses in the wind +Are tapping at the window-sash. +A hawk is in the sky; his wings +Slowly begin to plash. + +The roses with the west wind rapping +Are torn away, and a splash +Of red goes down the billowing air. + +Still hangs the hawk, with the whole sky moving +Past him--only a wing-beat proving +The will that holds him there. + +The daisies in the grass are bending, +The hawk has dropped, the wind is spending +All the roses, and unending +Rustle of leaves washes out the rending +Cry of a bird. + +A red rose goes on the wind.--Ascending +The hawk his wind-swept way is wending +Easily down the sky. The daisies, sending +Strange white signals, seem intending +To show the place whence the scream was heard. + +But, oh, my heart, what birds are piping! +A silver wind is hastily wiping +The face of the youngest rose. + +And oh, my heart, cease apprehending! +The hawk is gone, a rose is tapping +The window-sash as the west-wind blows. + +Knock, knock, 'tis no more than a red rose rapping, +And fear is a plash of wings. +What, then, if a scarlet rose goes flapping +Down the bright-grey ruin of things! + + +PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE +EVENING + +THE houses fade in a melt of mist + Blotching the thick, soiled air +With reddish places that still resist + The Night's slow care. + +The hopeless, wintry twilight fades, + The city corrodes out of sight +As the body corrodes when death invades + That citadel of delight. + +Now verdigris smoulderings softly spread + Through the shroud of the town, as slow +Night-lights hither and thither shed + Their ghastly glow. + + +PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT + +_Street-Walkers_. + +WHEN into the night the yellow light is roused like + dust above the towns, +Or like a mist the moon has kissed from off a pool in + the midst of the downs, + +Our faces flower for a little hour pale and uncertain + along the street, +Daisies that waken all mistaken white-spread in ex- + pectancy to meet + +The luminous mist which the poor things wist was + dawn arriving across the sky, +When dawn is far behind the star the dust-lit town + has driven so high. + +All the birds are folded in a silent ball of sleep, + All the flowers are faded from the asphalt isle in + the sea, +Only we hard-faced creatures go round and round, + and keep + The shores of this innermost ocean alive and + illusory. + +Wanton sparrows that twittered when morning + looked in at their eyes + And the Cyprian's pavement-roses are gone, and + now it is we +Flowers of illusion who shine in our gauds, make a + Paradise + On the shores of this ceaseless ocean, gay birds of + the town-dark sea. + + +TARANTELLA + +SAD as he sits on the white sea-stone +And the suave sea chuckles, and turns to the moon, +And the moon significant smiles at the cliffs and + the boulders. +He sits like a shade by the flood alone +While I dance a tarantella on the rocks, and the + croon +Of my mockery mocks at him over the waves' + bright shoulders. + +What can I do but dance alone, +Dance to the sliding sea and the moon, +For the moon on my breast and the air on my limbs + and the foam on my feet? +For surely this earnest man has none +Of the night in his soul, and none of the tune +Of the waters within him; only the world's old + wisdom to bleat. + +I wish a wild sea-fellow would come down the + glittering shingle, +A soulless neckar, with winking seas in his eyes +And falling waves in his arms, and the lost soul's kiss +On his lips: I long to be soulless, I tingle +To touch the sea in the last surprise +Of fiery coldness, to be gone in a lost soul's bliss. + + +IN CHURCH + +IN the choir the boys are singing the hymn. + The morning light on their lips +Moves in silver-moist flashes, in musical trim. + +Sudden outside the high window, one crow + Hangs in the air +And lights on a withered oak-tree's top of woe. + +One bird, one blot, folded and still at the top + Of the withered tree!--in the grail +Of crystal heaven falls one full black drop. + +Like a soft full drop of darkness it seems to sway + In the tender wine +Of our Sabbath, suffusing our sacred day. + + +PIANO + +Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; +Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see +A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the + tingling strings +And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who + smiles as she sings. + +In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song +Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong +To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter + outside +And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano + our guide. + +So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour +With the great black piano appassionato. The + glamour +Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast +Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a + child for the past. + + +EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, +BEFORE THE WAR + +_Charity_. + +BY the river +In the black wet night as the furtive rain slinks + down, +Dropping and starting from sleep +Alone on a seat +A woman crouches. + +I must go back to her. + +I want to give her +Some money. Her hand slips out of the breast of + her gown +Asleep. My fingers creep +Carefully over the sweet +Thumb-mound, into the palm's deep pouches. + +So, the gift! + +God, how she starts! +And looks at me, and looks in the palm of her hand! +And again at me! +I turn and run +Down the Embankment, run for my life. + +But why?--why? + +Because of my heart's +Beating like sobs, I come to myself, and stand +In the street spilled over splendidly +With wet, flat lights. What I've done +I know not, my soul is in strife. + +The touch was on the quick. I want to forget. + + +PHANTASMAGORIA + +RIGID sleeps the house in darkness, I alone +Like a thing unwarrantable cross the hall +And climb the stairs to find the group of doors +Standing angel-stern and tall. + +I want my own room's shelter. But what is this +Throng of startled beings suddenly thrown +In confusion against my entry? Is it only the trees' +Large shadows from the outside street lamp blown? + +Phantom to phantom leaning; strange women weep +Aloud, suddenly on my mind +Startling a fear unspeakable, as the shuddering wind +Breaks and sobs in the blind. + +So like to women, tall strange women weeping! +Why continually do they cross the bed? +Why does my soul contract with unnatural fear? +I am listening! Is anything said? + +Ever the long black figures swoop by the bed; +They seem to be beckoning, rushing away, and + beckoning. +Whither then, whither, what is it, say +What is the reckoning. + +Tall black Bacchae of midnight, why then, why +Do you rush to assail me? +Do I intrude on your rites nocturnal? +What should it avail me? + +Is there some great Iacchos of these slopes +Suburban dismal? +Have I profaned some female mystery, orgies +Black and phantasmal? + + +NEXT MORNING + +How have I wandered here to this vaulted room +In the house of life?--the floor was ruffled with gold +Last evening, and she who was softly in bloom, +Glimmered as flowers that in perfume at twilight + unfold + +For the flush of the night; whereas now the gloom +Of every dirty, must-besprinkled mould, +And damp old web of misery's heirloom +Deadens this day's grey-dropping arras-fold. + +And what is this that floats on the undermist +Of the mirror towards the dusty grate, as if feeling +Unsightly its way to the warmth?--this thing with + a list +To the left? this ghost like a candle swealing? + +Pale-blurred, with two round black drops, as if it + missed +Itself among everything else, here hungrily stealing +Upon me!--my own reflection!--explicit gist +Of my presence there in the mirror that leans from + the ceiling! + +Then will somebody square this shade with the + being I know +I was last night, when my soul rang clear as a bell +And happy as rain in summer? Why should it be + so? +What is there gone against me, why am I in hell? + + +PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT + +DARKNESS comes out of the earth + And swallows dip into the pallor of the west; +From the hay comes the clamour of children's + mirth; +Wanes the old palimpsest. + +The night-stock oozes scent, + And a moon-blue moth goes flittering by: +All that the worldly day has meant + Wastes like a lie. + +The children have forsaken their play; + A single star in a veil of light +Glimmers: litter of day + Is gone from sight. + + +EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, +BEFORE THE WAR + +_Outcasts_. + +THE night rain, dripping unseen, +Comes endlessly kissing my face and my hands. + +The river, slipping between +Lamps, is rayed with golden bands +Half way down its heaving sides; +Revealed where it hides. + +Under the bridge +Great electric cars +Sing through, and each with a floor-light racing + along at its side. +Far off, oh, midge after midge +Drifts over the gulf that bars +The night with silence, crossing the lamp-touched + tide. + +At Charing Cross, here, beneath the bridge +Sleep in a row the outcasts, +Packed in a line with their heads against the wall. +Their feet, in a broken ridge +Stretch out on the way, and a lout casts +A look as he stands on the edge of this naked stall. + +Beasts that sleep will cover +Their faces in their flank; so these +Have huddled rags or limbs on the naked sleep. +Save, as the tram-cars hover +Past with the noise of a breeze +And gleam as of sunshine crossing the low black heap, + +Two naked faces are seen +Bare and asleep, +Two pale clots swept and swept by the light of the + cars. +Foam-clots showing between +The long, low tidal-heap, +The mud-weed opening two pale, shadowless stars. + +Over the pallor of only two faces +Passes the gallivant beam of the trams; +Shows in only two sad places +The white bare bone of our shams. + +A little, bearded man, pale, peaked in sleeping, +With a face like a chickweed flower. +And a heavy woman, sleeping still keeping +Callous and dour. + +Over the pallor of only two places +Tossed on the low, black, ruffled heap +Passes the light of the tram as it races +Out of the deep. + +Eloquent limbs +In disarray +Sleep-suave limbs of a youth with long, smooth + thighs +Hutched up for warmth; the muddy rims +Of trousers fray +On the thin bare shins of a man who uneasily lies. + +The balls of five red toes +As red and dirty, bare +Young birds forsaken and left in a nest of mud-- +Newspaper sheets enclose +Some limbs like parcels, and tear +When the sleeper stirs or turns on the ebb of the + flood-- + +One heaped mound +Of a woman's knees +As she thrusts them upward under the ruffled skirt-- +And a curious dearth of sound +In the presence of these +Wastrels that sleep on the flagstones without any + hurt. + +Over two shadowless, shameless faces +Stark on the heap +Travels the light as it tilts in its paces +Gone in one leap. + +At the feet of the sleepers, watching, +Stand those that wait +For a place to lie down; and still as they stand, + they sleep, +Wearily catching +The flood's slow gait +Like men who are drowned, but float erect in the + deep. + +Oh, the singing mansions, +Golden-lighted tall +Trams that pass, blown ruddily down the night! +The bridge on its stanchions +Stoops like a pall +To this human blight. + +On the outer pavement, slowly, +Theatre people pass, +Holding aloft their umbrellas that flash and are + bright +Like flowers of infernal moly +Over nocturnal grass +Wetly bobbing and drifting away on our sight. + +And still by the rotten +Row of shattered feet, +Outcasts keep guard. +Forgotten, +Forgetting, till fate shall delete +One from the ward. + +The factories on the Surrey side +Are beautifully laid in black on a gold-grey sky. +The river's invisible tide +Threads and thrills like ore that is wealth to the eye. + +And great gold midges +Cross the chasm +At the bridges +Above intertwined plasm. + + +WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD + +THE frost has settled down upon the trees +And ruthlessly strangled off the fantasies +Of leaves that have gone unnoticed, swept like old +Romantic stories now no more to be told. + +The trees down the boulevard stand naked in + thought, +Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught +In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront +Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt. + +Has some hand balanced more leaves in the depths + of the twigs? +Some dim little efforts placed in the threads of the + birch?-- +It is only the sparrows, like dead black leaves on + the sprigs, +Sitting huddled against the cerulean, one flesh with + their perch. + +The clear, cold sky coldly bethinks itself. +Like vivid thought the air spins bright, and all +Trees, birds, and earth, arrested in the after-thought +Awaiting the sentence out from the welkin brought. + + +SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS + +How different, in the middle of snows, the great + school rises red! + A red rock silent and shadowless, clung round + with clusters of shouting lads, +Some few dark-cleaving the doorway, souls that + cling as the souls of the dead + In stupor persist at the gates of life, obstinate + dark monads. + +This new red rock in a waste of white rises against + the day + With shelter now, and with blandishment, since + the winds have had their way +And laid the desert horrific of silence and snow on + the world of mankind, + School now is the rock in this weary land the winter + burns and makes blind. + + +SICKNESS + +WAVING slowly before me, pushed into the dark, +Unseen my hands explore the silence, drawing the + bark +Of my body slowly behind. + +Nothing to meet my fingers but the fleece of night +Invisible blinding my face and my eyes! What if + in their flight +My hands should touch the door! + +What if I suddenly stumble, and push the door +Open, and a great grey dawn swirls over my feet, + before +I can draw back! + +What if unwitting I set the door of eternity wide +And am swept away in the horrible dawn, am gone + down the tide +Of eternal hereafter! + +Catch my hands, my darling, between your breasts. +Take them away from their venture, before fate + wrests +The meaning out of them. + + +EVERLASTING FLOWERS + +WHO do you think stands watching + The snow-tops shining rosy +In heaven, now that the darkness + Takes all but the tallest posy? + +Who then sees the two-winged + Boat down there, all alone +And asleep on the snow's last shadow, + Like a moth on a stone? + +The olive-leaves, light as gad-flies, + Have all gone dark, gone black. +And now in the dark my soul to you + Turns back. + +To you, my little darling, + To you, out of Italy. +For what is loveliness, my love, + Save you have it with me! + +So, there's an oxen wagon + Comes darkly into sight: +A man with a lantern, swinging + A little light. + +What does he see, my darling + Here by the darkened lake? +Here, in the sloping shadow + The mountains make? + +He says not a word, but passes, + Staring at what he sees. +What ghost of us both do you think he saw + Under the olive trees? + +All the things that are lovely-- + The things you never knew-- +I wanted to gather them one by one + And bring them to you. + +But never now, my darling + Can I gather the mountain-tips +From the twilight like half-shut lilies + To hold to your lips. + +And never the two-winged vessel + That sleeps below on the lake +Can I catch like a moth between my hands + For you to take. + +But hush, I am not regretting: + It is far more perfect now. +I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world + And tell them how + +I know you here in the darkness, + How you sit in the throne of my eyes +At peace, and look out of the windows + In glad surprise. + + +THE NORTH COUNTRY + +IN another country, black poplars shake them- + selves over a pond, +And rooks and the rising smoke-waves scatter and + wheel from the works beyond; +The air is dark with north and with sulphur, the + grass is a darker green, +And people darkly invested with purple move + palpable through the scene. + +Soundlessly down across the counties, out of the + resonant gloom +That wraps the north in stupor and purple travels + the deep, slow boom +Of the man-life north-imprisoned, shut in the hum + of the purpled steel +As it spins to sleep on its motion, drugged dense in + the sleep of the wheel. + +Out of the sleep, from the gloom of motion, sound- + lessly, somnambule +Moans and booms the soul of a people imprisoned, + asleep in the rule +Of the strong machine that runs mesmeric, booming + the spell of its word +Upon them and moving them helpless, mechanic, + their will to its will deferred. + +Yet all the while comes the droning inaudible, out + of the violet air, +The moaning of sleep-bound beings in travail that + toil and are will-less there +In the spell-bound north, convulsive now with a + dream near morning, strong +With violent achings heaving to burst the sleep + that is now not long. + + +BITTERNESS OF DEATH + +I + +AH, stern, cold man, +How can you lie so relentless hard +While I wash you with weeping water! +Do you set your face against the daughter +Of life? Can you never discard +Your curt pride's ban? + +You masquerader! +How can you shame to act this part +Of unswerving indifference to me? +You want at last, ah me! +To break my heart +Evader! + +You know your mouth +Was always sooner to soften +Even than your eyes. +Now shut it lies +Relentless, however often +I kiss it in drouth. + +It has no breath +Nor any relaxing. Where, +Where are you, what have you done? +What is this mouth of stone? +How did you dare +Take cover in death! + +II + +Once you could see, +The white moon show like a breast revealed +By the slipping shawl of stars. +Could see the small stars tremble +As the heart beneath did wield +Systole, diastole. + +All the lovely macrocosm +Was woman once to you, +Bride to your groom. +No tree in bloom +But it leaned you a new +White bosom. + +And always and ever +Soft as a summering tree +Unfolds from the sky, for your good, +Unfolded womanhood; +Shedding you down as a tree +Sheds its flowers on a river. + +I saw your brows +Set like rocks beside a sea of gloom, +And I shed my very soul down into your + thought; +Like flowers I fell, to be caught +On the comforted pool, like bloom +That leaves the boughs. + +III + +Oh, masquerader, +With a hard face white-enamelled, +What are you now? +Do you care no longer how +My heart is trammelled, +Evader? + +Is this you, after all, +Metallic, obdurate +With bowels of steel? +Did you _never_ feel?-- +Cold, insensate, +Mechanical! + +Ah, no!--you multiform, +You that I loved, you wonderful, +You who darkened and shone, +You were many men in one; +But never this null +This never-warm! + +Is this the sum of you? +Is it all nought? +Cold, metal-cold? +Are you all told +Here, iron-wrought? +Is _this_ what's become of you? + + +SEVEN SEALS + +SINCE this is the last night I keep you home, +Come, I will consecrate you for the journey. + +Rather I had you would not go. Nay come, +I will not again reproach you. Lie back +And let me love you a long time ere you go. +For you are sullen-hearted still, and lack +The will to love me. But even so +I will set a seal upon you from my lip, +Will set a guard of honour at each door, +Seal up each channel out of which might slip +Your love for me. + + I kiss your mouth. Ah, love, +Could I but seal its ruddy, shining spring +Of passion, parch it up, destroy, remove +Its softly-stirring crimson welling-up +Of kisses! Oh, help me, God! Here at the source +I'd lie for ever drinking and drawing in +Your fountains, as heaven drinks from out their + course +The floods. + + I close your ears with kisses +And seal your nostrils; and round your neck you'll + wear-- +Nay, let me work--a delicate chain of kisses. +Like beads they go around, and not one misses +To touch its fellow on either side. + + And there +Full mid-between the champaign of your breast +I place a great and burning seal of love +Like a dark rose, a mystery of rest +On the slow bubbling of your rhythmic heart. + +Nay, I persist, and very faith shall keep +You integral to me. Each door, each mystic port +Of egress from you I will seal and steep +In perfect chrism. + Now it is done. The mort +Will sound in heaven before it is undone. + +But let me finish what I have begun +And shirt you now invulnerable in the mail +Of iron kisses, kisses linked like steel. +Put greaves upon your thighs and knees, and frail +Webbing of steel on your feet. So you shall feel +Ensheathed invulnerable with me, with seven +Great seals upon your outgoings, and woven +Chain of my mystic will wrapped perfectly +Upon you, wrapped in indomitable me. + + +READING A LETTER + +SHE sits on the recreation ground + Under an oak whose yellow buds dot the pale + blue sky. +The young grass twinkles in the wind, and the sound + Of the wind in the knotted buds in a canopy. + +So sitting under the knotted canopy + Of the wind, she is lifted and carried away as in + a balloon +Across the insensible void, till she stoops to see + The sandy desert beneath her, the dreary platoon. + +She knows the waste all dry beneath her, in one + place + Stirring with earth-coloured life, ever turning and + stirring. +But never the motion has a human face + Nor sound, save intermittent machinery whirring. + +And so again, on the recreation ground + She alights a stranger, wondering, unused to the + scene; +Suffering at sight of the children playing around, + Hurt at the chalk-coloured tulips, and the even- + ing-green. + + +TWENTY YEARS AGO + +ROUND the house were lilacs and strawberries + And foal-foots spangling the paths, +And far away on the sand-hills, dewberries + Caught dust from the sea's long swaths. + +Up the wolds the woods were walking, + And nuts fell out of their hair. +At the gate the nets hung, balking + The star-lit rush of a hare. + +In the autumn fields, the stubble + Tinkled the music of gleaning. +At a mother's knees, the trouble + Lost all its meaning. + +Yea, what good beginnings + To this sad end! +Have we had our innings? + God forfend! + + +INTIME + +RETURNING, I find her just the same, +At just the same old delicate game. + +Still she says: "Nay, loose no flame +To lick me up and do me harm! +Be all yourself!--for oh, the charm +Of your heart of fire in which I look! +Oh, better there than in any book +Glow and enact the dramas and dreams +I love for ever!--there it seems +You are lovelier than life itself, till desire +Comes licking through the bars of your lips +And over my face the stray fire slips, +Leaving a burn and an ugly smart +That will have the oil of illusion. Oh, heart +Of fire and beauty, loose no more +Your reptile flames of lust; ah, store +Your passion in the basket of your soul, +Be all yourself, one bonny, burning coal +That stays with steady joy of its own fire. +But do not seek to take me by desire. +Oh, do not seek to thrust on me your fire! +For in the firing all my porcelain +Of flesh does crackle and shiver and break in pain, +My ivory and marble black with stain, +My veil of sensitive mystery rent in twain, +My altars sullied, I, bereft, remain +A priestess execrable, taken in vain--" + + So the refrain +Sings itself over, and so the game +Re-starts itself wherein I am kept +Like a glowing brazier faintly blue of flame +So that the delicate love-adept +Can warm her hands and invite her soul, +Sprinkling incense and salt of words +And kisses pale, and sipping the toll +Of incense-smoke that rises like birds. + +Yet I've forgotten in playing this game, +Things I have known that shall have no name; +Forgetting the place from which I came +I watch her ward away the flame, +Yet warm herself at the fire--then blame +Me that I flicker in the basket; +Me that I glow not with content +To have my substance so subtly spent; +Me that I interrupt her game. +I ought to be proud that she should ask it +Of me to be her fire-opal--. + + It is well +Since I am here for so short a spell +Not to interrupt her?--Why should I +Break in by making any reply! + + +TWO WIVES + +I + +INTO the shadow-white chamber silts the white +Flux of another dawn. The wind that all night +Long has waited restless, suddenly wafts +A whirl like snow from the plum-trees and the pear, +Till petals heaped between the window-shafts + In a drift die there. + +A nurse in white, at the dawning, flower-foamed + pane +Draws down the blinds, whose shadows scarcely + stain +The white rugs on the floor, nor the silent bed +That rides the room like a frozen berg, its crest +Finally ridged with the austere line of the dead + Stretched out at rest. + +Less than a year the fourfold feet had pressed +The peaceful floor, when fell the sword on their rest. +Yet soon, too soon, she had him home again +With wounds between them, and suffering like a + guest +That will not go. Now suddenly going, the pain + Leaves an empty breast. + +II + +A tall woman, with her long white gown aflow +As she strode her limbs amongst it, once more +She hastened towards the room. Did she know +As she listened in silence outside the silent door? +Entering, she saw him in outline, raised on a pyre + Awaiting the fire. + +Upraised on the bed, with feet erect as a bow, +Like the prow of a boat, his head laid back like the + stern +Of a ship that stands in a shadowy sea of snow +With frozen rigging, she saw him; she drooped like + a fern +Refolding, she slipped to the floor as a ghost-white + peony slips + When the thread clips. + +Soft she lay as a shed flower fallen, nor heard +The ominous entry, nor saw the other love, +The dark, the grave-eyed mistress who thus dared +At such an hour to lay her claim, above +A stricken wife, so sunk in oblivion, bowed + With misery, no more proud. + +III + +The stranger's hair was shorn like a lad's dark poll +And pale her ivory face: her eyes would fail +In silence when she looked: for all the whole +Darkness of failure was in them, without avail. +Dark in indomitable failure, she who had lost + Now claimed the host, + +She softly passed the sorrowful flower shed +In blonde and white on the floor, nor even turned +Her head aside, but straight towards the bed +Moved with slow feet, and her eyes' flame steadily + burned. +She looked at him as he lay with banded cheek, + And she started to speak + +Softly: "I knew it would come to this," she said, +"I knew that some day, soon, I should find you thus. +So I did not fight you. You went your way instead +Of coming mine--and of the two of us +I died the first, I, in the after-life + Am now your wife." + +IV + +"'Twas I whose fingers did draw up the young +Plant of your body: to me you looked e'er sprung +The secret of the moon within your eyes! +My mouth you met before your fine red mouth +Was set to song--and never your song denies + My love, till you went south." + +"'Twas I who placed the bloom of manhood on +Your youthful smoothness: I fleeced where fleece + was none +Your fervent limbs with flickers and tendrils of new +Knowledge; I set your heart to its stronger beat; +I put my strength upon you, and I threw + My life at your feet." + +"But I whom the years had reared to be your bride, +Who for years was sun for your shivering, shade for + your sweat, +Who for one strange year was as a bride to you--you + set me aside +With all the old, sweet things of our youth;--and + never yet +Have I ceased to grieve that I was not great enough + To defeat your baser stuff." + +V + +"But you are given back again to me +Who have kept intact for you your virginity. +Who for the rest of life walk out of care, +Indifferent here of myself, since I am gone +Where you are gone, and you and I out there + Walk now as one." + +"Your widow am I, and only I. I dream +God bows his head and grants me this supreme +Pure look of your last dead face, whence now is gone +The mobility, the panther's gambolling, +And all your being is given to me, so none + Can mock my struggling." + +"And now at last I kiss your perfect face, +Perfecting now our unfinished, first embrace. +Your young hushed look that then saw God ablaze +In every bush, is given you back, and we +Are met at length to finish our rest of days + In a unity." + + +HEIMWEH + +FAR-OFF the lily-statues stand white-ranked in the + garden at home. +Would God they were shattered quickly, the cattle + would tread them out in the loam. +I wish the elder trees in flower could suddenly heave, + and burst +The walls of the house, and nettles puff out from + the hearth at which I was nursed. + +It stands so still in the hush composed of trees and + inviolate peace, +The home of my fathers, the place that is mine, my + fate and my old increase. +And now that the skies are falling, the world is + spouting in fountains of dirt, +I would give my soul for the homestead to fall with + me, go with me, both in one hurt. + + +DEBACLE + +THE trees in trouble because of autumn, + And scarlet berries falling from the bush, +And all the myriad houseless seeds + Loosing hold in the wind's insistent push + +Moan softly with autumnal parturition, + Poor, obscure fruits extruded out of light +Into the world of shadow, carried down + Between the bitter knees of the after-night. + +Bushed in an uncouth ardour, coiled at core + With a knot of life that only bliss can unravel, +Fall all the fruits most bitterly into earth + Bitterly into corrosion bitterly travel. + +What is it internecine that is locked, + By very fierceness into a quiescence +Within the rage? We shall not know till it burst + Out of corrosion into new florescence. + +Nay, but how tortured is the frightful seed + The spark intense within it, all without +Mordant corrosion gnashing and champing hard + For ruin on the naked small redoubt. + +Bitter, to fold the issue, and make no sally; + To have the mystery, but not go forth; +To bear, but retaliate nothing, given to save + The spark in storms of corrosion, as seeds from + the north. + +The sharper, more horrid the pressure, the harder + the heart + That saves the blue grain of eternal fire +Within its quick, committed to hold and wait + And suffer unheeding, only forbidden to expire. + + +NARCISSUS + +WHERE the minnows trace +A glinting web quick hid in the gloom of the brook, +When I think of the place +And remember the small lad lying intent to look +Through the shadowy face +At the little fish thread-threading the watery nook-- + +It seems to me +The woman you are should be nixie, there is a pool +Where we ought to be. +You undine-clear and pearly, soullessly cool +And waterly +The pool for my limbs to fathom, my soul's last + school. + +Narcissus +Ventured so long ago in the deeps of reflection. +Illyssus +Broke the bounds and beyond!--Dim recollection +Of fishes +Soundlessly moving in heaven's other direction! + +Be +Undine towards the waters, moving back; +For me +A pool! Put off the soul you've got, oh lack +Your human self immortal; take the watery track. + + +AUTUMN SUNSHINE + +THE sun sets out the autumn crocuses + And fills them up a pouring measure + Of death-producing wine, till treasure +Runs waste down their chalices. + +All, all Persephone's pale cups of mould + Are on the board, are over-filled; + The portion to the gods is spilled; +Now, mortals all, take hold! + +The time is now, the wine-cup full and full + Of lambent heaven, a pledging-cup; + Let now all mortal men take up +The drink, and a long, strong pull. + +Out of the hell-queen's cup, the heaven's pale wine-- + Drink then, invisible heroes, drink. + Lips to the vessels, never shrink, +Throats to the heavens incline. + +And take within the wine the god's great oath + By heaven and earth and hellish stream + To break this sick and nauseous dream +We writhe and lust in, both. + +Swear, in the pale wine poured from the cups of the + queen + Of hell, to wake and be free + From this nightmare we writhe in, +Break out of this foul has-been. + + +ON THAT DAY + + ON that day +I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave +With multitude of white roses: and since you were + brave + One bright red ray. + + So people, passing under +The ash-trees of the valley-road, will raise +Their eyes and look at the grave on the hill, in + wonder, + Wondering mount, and put the flowers asunder + + To see whose praise +Is blazoned here so white and so bloodily red. +Then they will say: "'Tis long since she is dead, + Who has remembered her after many days?" + + And standing there +They will consider how you went your ways +Unnoticed among them, a still queen lost in the + maze + Of this earthly affair. + + A queen, they'll say, +Has slept unnoticed on a forgotten hill. +Sleeps on unknown, unnoticed there, until + Dawns my insurgent day. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. 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