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| author | pgww <pgww@lists.pglaf.org> | 2025-07-16 23:01:30 -0700 |
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| committer | pgww <pgww@lists.pglaf.org> | 2025-07-16 23:01:30 -0700 |
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diff --git a/22736-0.txt b/22736-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d0b2b44 --- /dev/null +++ b/22736-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1086 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 22736 *** + + + + +THE INN OF DREAMS + +BY + +OLIVE CUSTANCE +(LADY AFRED DOUGLAS) + + + + +LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEYD HEAD +NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY, MCMXI + +WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES + + + + +DEDICATION + + +J’ÉCRIS POUR QUE LE JOUR OÙ JE NE SERAI PLUS + + +J’écris pour que le jour où je ne serai plus +On sache comme l’air et le plaisir m’ont plu, +Et que mon livre porte à la foule future +Comme j’aimais la vie et l’heureuse nature. + +Attentive aux travaux des champs et des maisons +J’ai marqué chaque jour la forme des saisons, +Parce que l’eau, la terre et la montante flamme +En nul endroit ne sont si belles qu’en mon âme. + +J’ai dit ce que j’ai vu et ce que j’ai senti, +D’un coeur pour qui le vrai ne fut point trop hardi, +Et j’ai eu cette ardeur, par l’amour intimée, +Pour être après la mort parfois encore aimée, + +Et qu’un jeune homme alors lisant ce que j’écris, +Sentant par moi son coeur, ému, troublé, surpris, +Ayant tout oublié des épouses réelles, +M’accueille dans son âme et me préfère à elles. + + COMTESSE MATHIEU DE NOAILLES + + + + +CONTENTS + +Dedication (Comtesse de Noailles) +The Inn of Dreams +The Kingdom of Heaven +A Dream +The Autumn Day +Angels +The Changeling +A Song Against Care +"Quelque part une Enfance très douce et mourir" +Candle-Light +In the South +Spring in the South +“I am Weary, let me Sleep” +Grief +Daffodil Dawn +Beauty +The Vision +The Dance +The Prisoner of God +The Storm +St. Anthony +Black Butterflies +In Praise of Youth +Opal Song +Gifts +Primrose Hill +A Morning Song +The Wings of Fortune +Shadow-Nets +Peacocks. A Mood +Hyacinthus +Hylas +Blue Flowers +Madrigal +Endymion +Dance Song +A Memory +The Photograph +St. Sebastian +The Magic Mirrors + + + + +The Inn of Dreams + + + Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight! +My heart is like a lighted Inn that waits +Your swift approach . . . and at the open gates +White Beauty stands and listens like a flower. +She has been dreaming of you in the night, +O fairy Princes; and her eyes are bright. +Spur your fleet horses, this is Beauty’s hour! +Even as when a golden flame up-curled +Quivers and flickers out in a dark place, +So is it with the flame of Beauty’s face— +That torch! that rose! that wonder of the world! +And Love shall weep to see—when he rides by +Years hence (the time shall seem as a bird’s flight)— +A lonely Inn beneath a winter sky. +Come now, sweet friends! before the summer die. + Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight! + + + + +The Kingdom of Heaven + + +O World that holds me by the wings, + How shall my soul escape your snares? +So dear are your delightful things, + So difficult your toils and cares: +That, every way my soul is held + By bonds of love, and bonds of hate; +With all its heavenly ardours quelled, + And all its angels desolate . . . + +Yet in the heart of every child, +God and the world are reconciled! . . . + + + + +A Dream + + +I dreamed we walked together, you and I, +Along a white and lonely road, that went +I know not where . . . and we were well content. +Our laughter was untroubled as the sky, +And all our talk was delicate and shy, +Though in that cage of words wild thoughts were pent +Like prisoned birds that some sweet accident +Might yet release to sing again, and fly. +We passed between long lines of poplar trees . . . +Where, summer comrades gay and debonair, +The south wind and the sunlight danced . . . you smiled, +With great glad eyes, as bright as summer seas, +To feel their twinkling fingers in your hair . . +And then you kissed me, quickly, like a child! + + + + +The Autumn Day + + +How delicately steps the autumn day +In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey +Over the level country that I love! + +With glittering veils of light about her head +And skirts of wide horizons round her spread +White as the white wing-feathers of a dove. + +Her feet, a flash of silver on the sea, +Chase silver sails that fly untiringly +Towards the enchanted Islands of the West. + +Beautiful Islands, gardens of delight! +That flower at dawn with roses red and white . . . +And flame at sunset gold and amethyst . . . + +How delicately steps the autumn day +In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey +Over the level country that I love . . . + +And how my heart that all sweet things beguile +Goes laughing with her for a little while . . . +And then turns homeward like a weary dove. + + + + +Angels + + +When life is difficult, I dream +Of how the angels dance in heaven! +Of how the angels dance and sing +In gardens of eternal spring, +Because their sins have been forgiven . . . +And never more for them shall be +The terrors of mortality! +When life is difficult, I dream +Of how the angels dance in heaven . . . + + + + +The Changeling + + +My father was a golden king, + My mother was a shining queen; +I heard the magic blue-bird sing . . . + They wrapped me in a mantle green. + +They led their winged white horses out, + We rode and rode till dawn was grey; +We rode with many a song and shout, + “Over the hills and far away.” + +They stole the crying human child, + And left me laughing by the fire; +And that is why my heart is wild, + And all my life a long desire . . . + +The old enchantments hold me still . . . + And sometimes in a waking trance +I seek again the Fairy Hill, + The midnight feast, the glittering dance! + +The wizard harpers play for me, + I wear a crown upon my head, +A princess in eternity, + I dance and revel with the dead . . . + +“Vain lies!” I hear the people cry, + I listen to their weary truth; +Then turn again to fantasy, + And the untroubled Land of Youth. + +I hear the laughter of the kings, + I see their jewelled flagons gleam . . . +O wine of Life! . . . immortal things + Move in the splendour of my dream . . . + +My spirit is a homing dove . . . + I drain a crystal cup, and fall +Softly into the arms of Love . . . + And then the darkness covers all. + + + + +A Song Against Care + + + O Care! +Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne, +Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies +(For seldom—seldom art thou stained and torn, +Showing a tattered lining, and the bare +Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair +To look at, O thou garment of our pride! +A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise; +He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . . +And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . . +And after . . . when men know the agony +Of thy great weight of splendour, and would shake +Thee swiftly from their shoulders, cast aside +The burden of thy jewelled bands that break +Their very hearts . . . often it is too late. +They fear the world will mock them and deride +When they are stripped of all their golden state. +But some are brave . . . but some among us dare +Cry out against thy torment and be free! +And I would rather a gay beggar be, +And go in rags for all eternity, +Than that thy clanking pomp should cover me, + O Care! . . . + + + + +“Quelque part une Enfance très douce doit mourir” + + Albert Samian + + +Alas! I do not know on what sad day +My childhood went away . . . +It may have left me softly in the night + When I was sleeping—dreaming—who can tell? +Perhaps it whispered “wings were made for flight!” + I only know it never said “farewell” . . . + +And so I cannot tell when youth will go +Although I love it so . . . +But like a little amorous girl that clings + To some fair boy, my spirit all afraid, +While yet she holds youth back by the bright wings, + Knows he must leave her for some other maid! + + + + +Candle-Light + + +Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath, +Flickering points of honey-coloured flame, +From sunset gardens of the moon you came, +Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death . . . + +Blossoms of opal fire that raised on high +Upon a hundred silver stems are seen +Above the brilliant dance, or set between +The brimming wine-cups . . . flowers of revelry! + +Roses with amber petals that arise +Out of the purple darkness of the night +To deck the darkened house of Love, to light +The laughing lips, the beautiful glad eyes. + +Lilies with violet-coloured hearts that break +In shining clusters round the silent dead, +A diadem of stars at feet and head, +The glory dazzles . . . but they do not wake . . . + +O golden flowers the moon goes gathering +In magic gardens of her fairy-land, +While splendid angels of the sunset stand +Watching in flaming circles wing to wing . . . + +Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath, +That wither in the hands of light, and die +When bright dawn wakens in a silver sky. +Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death. + + + + +In the South + + +I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees +That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads, +And are grave and cold and grey in spite of the sun . . . +In the veils of rose and blue that the bright dawn spun +Day wrapped me round in vain! +I longed for the lovers and friends I had left behind, +I longed for the North again. + +I was deaf to song, and even to beauty blind, +Blind to the magic woof that summer weaves, +While roses beat their pearl and ruby leaves +Against my window pane . . . +And orange flowers so passionately white, +So richly perfumed, pined for my delight: +Only my faint heart sighed, +In pity when the glory waned and died, +For all that lovely life unsatisfied! + +I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees +That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads . . . + + + + +Spring in the South + + +Beautiful as some rich embroidery +The valley lies in verdant amplitude, +Great mountains—like old merchants—o’er it brood— +And as a lovely woman languidly +Trailing her long blue robes, so comes the sea +To touch it softly in a wistful mood . . . +The sky forgets her starry multitude, +Seeing how fair mere earthly flowers can be! + +Glad country where the wayward feet of Spring, +Moving in mystic dances, bring desire, +New miracles of beauty every day . . . +Where Love and sweet Delight fly wing to wing +Forgetful as in dreams, that bright as fire +So burn the hours of joy as swift away! + + + + +“I am Weary, let me Sleep” + + +I am weary, let me sleep +In some great embroidered bed, +With soft pillows for my head. +I am weary, let me sleep . . . +Petals of sweet roses shed +All around a perfumed heap +White as pearls, and ruby red; +Curtains closely drawn to keep +Wings of darkness o’er me spread . . . +I am weary, let me sleep +In some great embroidered bed. +Let me dream that I am dead, +Nevermore to wake and weep +In the future that I dread . . . +For the ways of life are steep . . . +I am weary, let me sleep . . . + + + + +Grief + + +I, that was once so eager for the light, +The vehement pomp and passion of the day, +Am tired at last, and glad to steal away +Across the dusky borders of the night. +The purple darkness now is my delight, +And with great stars my lonely sorrows play, +As still, some proud and tragic princess may +With diamonds make her desolation bright. + +Night has become a temple for my tears . . . +The moon a silver shroud for my despair, +And all the golden forests of the spheres +Have showered their splendours on me leaf by leaf +Till men that meet me in the sunlight, stare +To see the shining garment of my grief! + + + + +Daffodil Dawn + + +While I slept, and dreamed of you, +Morning, like a princess, came, +All in robe of palest blue: +Stooped and gathered in that hour +From the east a golden flower, +Great and shining flower of flame . . . +Then she hastened on her way +Singing over plain and hill— +While I slept and dreamed of you +Dreams that never can come true . . +Morning at the gates of Day, +Gathered Dawn, the daffodil! + + + + +Beauty + + +I saw the face of Beauty—a pale rose +In the gold dusk of her abundant hair . . . +A silken web of dreams and joys—a snare . . +A net of pleasures in a world of woes, +A bright temptation for gay youth that goes +Laughing upon his way without a care! +A shield of light for conquering Love to bear +Stronger than all the swords of all his foes. + +O face of Beauty—O white dawn enshrined +In sunrise veils of splendid hair—O star! +Shine on those weary men who sadly wise +But guess thy glory faintly from afar— +Missing the marvel of thy smile—and blind +To the imperial passion in thine eyes! + + + + +The Vision + + +I come from lonely downs and silent woods, +With winter in my heart, a withered world, +A heavy weight of dark and sorrowful things, +And all my dreams spread out their rainbow wings, +And turn again to those bright solitudes +Where Beauty met me in a thousand moods, +And all her shining banners were unfurled . . . +And where I snatched from the sweet hands of Spring +A crystal cup and drank a mystic wine, +And walked alone a secret perfumed way, +And saw the glittering Angels at their play. +And heard the golden birds of Heaven sing, +And woke . . . to find white lilies clustering +And all the emerald wood an empty shrine, +Fragrant with myrrh and frankincense and spice, +And echoing yet the flutes of Paradise . . . + + + + +The Dance + + +Do you remember that day I danced in the woods, + Under the dancing leaves? +Do you remember the delicate blue of the sky + And the gold-dust in the air? +And the tawny harvest fields, and the heavy sheaves? +Summer was surely in one of her bravest moods . . . + And oh, the rare +Swift joy that lifted life to an ecstasy, +That shining day I danced for you, dear, in the woods! + +The purple twilight came, and the amber moon . . . + And the fairies danced with me . . . +And the shy fauns crept from the tangled thicket near, + And the startled dryads bent, +White and starry-eyed, each from her secret tree, +To watch that mystical dance, to share that heavenly swoon + That mad, bright banishment. . . . +For we were free in the perfect country, dear, +When purple twilight came and the amber moon . . . + +Some day I shall dance again that mystical dance . . . + I know not when or where! +But the angels shall dance with me, and I shall not be afraid. + I shall look in their deep eyes . . . +And feel their arms about me, and their kisses in my hair, +And know that time is over, and the desperate ways of chance. . . . + I shall be very wise, +And glad at last, and the walls of the world shall fade . . . +The day when I dance again that mystical dance. + + + + +The Prisoner of God + + +Once long and long ago I knew delight. +God gave my spirit wings and a glad voice. +I was a bird that sang at dawn and noon, +That sang at starry evening time and night; +Sang at the sun’s great golden doors, and furled +Brave wings in the white gardens of the moon; +That sang and soared beyond the dusty world. + +Once long and long ago I did rejoice, +But now I am a stone that falls and falls. +A prisoner, cursing the blank prison walls, +Helpless and dumb, with desperate eyes, that see +The terrible beauty of those simple things +My soul disdained when she was proud and free. +And I can only pray: God pity me, +God pity me and give me back my voice! +God pity me and give me back my wings! + + + + +The Storm + + +What do they hunt to-night, the hounds of the wind? +I think it is joy they hunt, for joy has fled from my heart. +I only remember the hours when I sorrowed or sinned, +I only remember the hours when I stood apart +Lonely and tired, in difficult dreams entranced, +And I forget the days when I loved, and laughed, and danced. + +Grey hounds of the wind, I hear your wistful cry, +The cry of unsatisfied hearts hungry for happiness +The house is full of whispering ghosts as you hurry by, +And my soul is heavy and dark with a great distress, +For heaven is far away, and hope is dead; +And the night is a tomb of tears, and despair, and dread. + +O hunt no more wild hounds of the wind and rain, +For my soul is afraid of the sound of your hurrying feet, +And surely under the stars a beautiful joy is slain? +Fly! black wings of sorrow . . . wet wings of the night that beat +At the shuttered windows, swiftly fly away, +Before God stoops to gather the golden flower of day. + + + + +St. Anthony + +THE ENGRAVING BY DÜRER + + +Dürer has drawn him resting by the way . . . +Has he returned from some far pilgrimage? +Or just come out into the light of day +From a dark hermit’s cell? We cannot know . . . +With stooping shoulders, and with head bent low +Over his book—and pointed hood drawn down. +His eager eyes devour the printed page . . . +Regardless of the little lovely town +Rising behind him, with its clustered towers . . . +O Saint, look up! and see how gay and fair +The earth is in its summer-time of flowers, +Look up, and see the world, for God is there . . . +Old dreaming Saint, how many are like you, +Intent upon the dusty book of fate: +Slow to discern the false things from the true! +Yet weary of world clamour and world hate, +And hungering for eternal certainties . . . +Not knowing how close about them heaven lies! + + + + +Black Butterflies + + +O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies! +Wild words of all the wayward songs I sing . . . +Called from the tomb of some enchanted past +By that strange sphinx, my soul, they slowly rise +And settle on white pages wing to wing . . . +White pages like flower-petals fluttering +Held spellbound there till some blind hour shall bring +The perfect voice that, delicate and wise, +Shall set them free in fairyland at last! +That garden of all dreams and ecstasies +Where my soul sings through an eternal spring, +Watching alone with enigmatic eyes, +Dark wings on pale flower-petals quivering . . . +O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies! + + + + +In Praise of Youth + + +O delicate youth, thy praises shall be sung +While yet my heart is young . . . +While Life and I, in search of lovely things, +Go out with dancing feet and dreaming eyes, +And find wild Folly, with her rainbow wings, +Sweeter than all the wisdom of the wise. + +O delicate Youth, thy praises shall be sung +While yet my heart is young . . . +Thy whiteness, and thy brightness, and the sweet +Flushed softness of thy little restless feet . . . +The tossed and sunny tangle of thy hair, +Thy swiftness, slimness, shyness, simpleness, +That set the old folk sighing for the rare +Red rose of Joy thy careless days possess. + +. . . And when at last, with sad, indifferent face, +I walk in narrow pathways patiently; +Forgetful of thy beauty, and thy truth, +Thy ringing laughter, thy rebellious grace . . . +When fair Love turns his face away from me . . . +Then, let me die, O delicate sweet Youth! + + + + +Opal Song + + +Shy and wild . . . shy and wild +To my lovers I have been. +Frank and wayward as a child, +Strange and secret as a queen; +Fain of love, and love beguiled, +Yet afraid of love, I ween! + +False and true . . . false and true +Is the woman’s heart in me . . . +Fair lost faces that I rue, +Golden friends I laugh to see, +Changing, I come back to you, +Never doubt my loyalty! + + + + +Gifts + + +Come near! you are my friend and I will wear +Gems for your sake, and flowers in my hair; +Garments of silver gauze, and cloth of gold . . . +And I will give you power to have and hold, +And passion, and delight and ecstasy. +What will you give to me? + +And I will give you, if you will but stay, +The magic mirror of the dawn, where day +Waking, beholds the wonder of her face— +If you will keep me yet in your embrace, +And let me dream of Love’s eternity. +What will you give to me? + +Yes! I will give you the gold veils of light, +And the dark spangled curtains of the night . . . +And I will give you as a flower unfurled, +The proud and marvellous beauty of the world, +And all the wild, white horses of the sea. +What will you give to me? . . . + + + + +Primrose Hill + + +Wild heart in me that frets and grieves, +Imprisoned here against your will . . . +Sad heart that dreams of rainbow wings +See! I have found some golden things! +The poplar trees on Primrose Hill +With all their shining play of leaves . . . +And London like a silver bride, +That will not put her veil aside! + +Proud London like a painted Queen, +Whose crown is heavy on her head . . . +City of sorrow and desire, +Under a sky of opal fire, +Amber and amethyst and red . . . +And how divine the day has been! +For every dawn God builds again +This world of beauty and of pain . . . + +Wild heart that hungers for delight, +Imprisoned here against your will; +Sad heart, so eager to be gay! +Loving earth’s lovely things . . . the play +Of wind and leaves on Primrose Hill . . . +Or London dreaming of the night . . . +Adventurous heart, on beauty bent, +That only Heaven could quite content! + + + + +A Morning Song + + +You saw my window open wide, + And woke me early, sister day! +You came in all your lovely pride, +With laughing looks that I adore, + With wings of blue and grey . . . +With sunshine skirts that swept the floor, +With songs to drive night’s dreams away, + You called me out to play. +And so I took you by the hand, +And found the way to fairyland . . . +With such impatient feet I climb + The ladders of delight! +For well I know that ruthless time + Turns morning moods to tears and night. + + + + +The Wings of Fortune + + +Fair fortune you are wild and coy, +Fickle, mysterious, and shy . . . +And so we lost you, Love and I! +And now, at last, because we find +Your golden footprints, Love the boy, +Dreams you are near . . . but Love is blind! +Yet, surely Sorrow’s arms unwind +From this tired heart, and dark distress +Fades softly . . . softly from the world: +And in Hope’s silver sky unfurled, +I see the banners of delight! +And the grey heaven of life grows bright +With the red dawn of happiness . . . +As with a laughing look Love flings +His heavy crown of thorns away . . . +Fair fortune, you are wild and coy, +And ah! I fear you will not stay. +But Love has caught you by the wings +And radiant as Eurydice +By her brave poet’s song set free, +I rush into the arms of joy! + + + + +Shadow-Nets + + +When I was wandering on the Downs to-day +I saw the pine-woods sleeping in the sun . . . +For they were tired of weaving shadow-nets— +Weaving all day in vain . . . in vain . . . in vain . . . +Pale phantom nets to snare the golden sun! +And then I thought of how the poets weave +With shadowy words their cunning nets of song, +Hoping to catch, at last, a shining dream! + + + + +Peacocks. A Mood + + +In Gorgeous plumage, azure, gold and green, +They trample the pale flowers, and their shrill cry +Troubles the garden’s bright tranquillity! +Proud birds of Beauty, splendid and serene, +Spreading their brilliant fans, screen after screen +Of burnished sapphire, gemmed with mimic suns— +Strange magic eyes, that, so the legend runs, +Will bring misfortune to this fair demesne . . . + +And my gay youth, that, vain and debonair, +Sits in the sunshine—tired at last of play +(A child, that finds the morning all too long), +Tempts with its beauty that disastrous day +When in the gathering darkness of despair +Death shall strike dumb the laughing mouth of song. + + + + +Hyacinthus + + +Fair boy, how gay the morning must have seemed +Before the fatal game that murdered thee! +Of such a dawn my wistful heart has dreamed: +Surely I too have lived in Arcady +When Spring, lap-full of roses, ran to meet +White Aphrodite risen from the sea . . . + +Perchance I saw thee then, so glad and fleet; +Hasten to greet Apollo, stoop to bind +The gold and jewelled sandals on his feet, +While he so radiant, so divinely kind, +Lured thee with honeyed words to be his friend, +All heedless of thy fate, for Love is blind. + +For Love is blind and cruel, and the end +Of every joy is sorrow and distress. +And when immortal creatures lightly bend +To kiss the lips of simple loveliness, +Swords are unsheathed in silence, and clouds rise, +Some God is jealous of the mute caress . . . + +But who shall mourn thy death—ah, not the wise? +Better to perish in thy happiest hour, +To close in sight of beauty thy dark eyes, +And, dying so, be changed into a flower, +Than that the stealthy and relentless years +Should steal that grace which was thy only dower. + +And bring thee in return dull cares and tears, +And difficult days and sickness and despair . . . +O, not for thee the griefs and sordid fears +That, like a burden, trembling age must bear; +Slain in thy youth, by the sweet hands of Love, +Thou shalt remain for ever young and fair . . . + + + + +Hylas + + +Dark boy, how radiantly you went to meet +Your mystic doom . . . what colours in the sky! +As though that cup of beauty the gods hold +Brimmed over on a world in ecstasy . . . +What silver flutes charmed all the forest ways . . . +How the green shimmered, jewelled thick with flowers, +And how the sun was like a globe of gold . . . +Yet you but thought to chase the perfect hours +Down that white road of wonder and delight, +The highway of your dreams, and heedlessly +You crushed the violets with your slim brown feet, +And whistled low, and sang a careless song . . . +Because your life was full of lovely days, +Because your life was delicate and sweet . . . +O youth and dawn . . . you dreamed not of the night . . . +O life and laughter . . . but the night is long . . . + + + + +Blue Flowers + + +I go to gather in the woods for you +The wild flowers that are blue . . . +Petals to match the colour of your eyes! + +None but blue blossoms will I take, yet see +How sweetly tempting me +The fruit trees swing their scented treasuries. + +And how the buttercups and daisies dance +To meet my dazzled glance! +But gold and silver, Sweet, are naught to you. + +And so let others rob God’s gardens . . . shake +The stars down for your sake— +I bring you but the wild flowers that are blue! + + + + +Madrigal + + +Rare garden where my heart goes gathering +Many a lovely and delightful thing, +Pale roses of your body and the fair +Unrivalled yellow blossoms of your hair! + +Tall lilies of your gay and careless grace, +And O the wistful flower of your face! +And all the soft and starry mysteries +Of those divine forget-me-nots, your eyes . . . + +O come, fair Love, before the flowers fade, +And bless this garden that the gods have made . . . +Rare garden where my heart goes gathering +Many a lovely and delightful thing . . . + + + + +Endymion + + +Your hair was like a honey-coloured flame +Seen through a veil of silver when you came +And took me in your arms that winter night . . . +The moonlight, amorous of your golden hair, +Toyed with it softly, as a woman might +With some bright treasure, delicate and rare. + +O, young Endymion, risen from the dead, +Born once again to beauty, O bright head! +The moon stoops low to kiss you, as of old; +Stoops graciously from her great throne of pearl, +With outstretched arms mysterious and cold . . . +But you have left her for a mortal girl. + + + + +Dance Song + + +O hide your passion from the moon. +When young and slender she appears +In shining gown and silver shoon . . . +And, all her path with stars impearled, +She dances round the darkened world. + +O hide your sorrows from the sun . . . +The sun should never see your tears! +Weep, if you will, when day is done . . . +But laugh and sing and clap your hands +While yet the sun in heaven stands. + + + + +A Memory + + +O how I loved you when we met +For that one moment of the day! +Yes, loved you desperately, and yet +Could scarcely find a word to say— +No wonder that you looked and smiled +As though upon some timid child. +You never guessed, how could you guess +That I adored your loveliness! + +You never saw the prisoned soul +Behind the windows of my eyes, +Frantic to break from fate’s control +And charm you with her flatteries . . . +And show you, your cold heart to move, +The shining treasure of her love, +And worship in a long embrace, +The reckless beauty of your face! + +You never knew . . . and the dream died +A broken rose beneath your feet . . . +You went your way . . . the world is wide +And I forgot, for youth is sweet . . . +Yet when at night I lie awake, +My heart is sad for a dream’s sake, +And I remember and regret . . . +O how I loved you when we met! + + + + +The Photograph + + +O Beauty, what is this? +A shadow of your face . . . +Where is the wild flower grace +That Love is wont to kiss? + +Where is the bird that brings +To your untroubled eyes +The blue of fairy skies, +The flash of fairy wings? . . . + +O wild bird of delight, +That no white hand may hold, +Or fairest cage of gold . . . +For who would stay its flight? + +The song-bird of your voice +Whose magic song Love hears, +Trembling behind your tears, +Trilling when you rejoice . . . + +O Beauty, what is this? +The shadow of a rose . . . +A little ghost that goes +Oblivious of Love’s kiss. + +Only a shadow . . . yet +It may, in some dark hour +Recall the living flower . . . +If haply Love forget. + + + + +St. Sebastian + + +So beautiful in all thine agony! +So radiant in thine infinite despair . . . +Oh, delicate mouth, brave eyes, and curled bright hair . . . +Oh, lovely body lashed to the rough tree: +What brutal fools were those that gave to thee +Red roses of thine outraged blood to wear, +Laughed at thy bitter pain and loathed the fair +Bruised flower of thy victorious purity? + +Marvellous Beauty . . . target of the world, +How all Love’s arrows seek thy joy, Oh Sweet! +And wound the white perfection of thy youth! +How all the poisoned spears of hate are hurled +Against thy sorrow when thou darest to meet +With martyrdom men’s mockery of the truth! + + + + +The Magic Mirrors + + +In the dim mirrors of imagination, +I watch the silent dancing of my soul . . . +I watch her as she dances with my dreams . . . +See how she takes innumerable disguises, +And hides her beauty behind many masks, +And how, sometimes, she seems to laugh and sing, +. . . And weep . . . and call upon the unknown Gods . . . +But not one mirror has betrayed her voice, +Or shown to me the secret of her face . . . +O silent dance of sorrow and delight, +My heart grown tired with watching, turns away, +To make perhaps a little passionate song +Out of the shadows of immortal things . . . + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 22736 *** + diff --git a/22736-8.txt b/22736-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6f72c48..0000000 --- a/22736-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1472 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inn of Dreams, by Olive Custance - -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: The Inn of Dreams - -Author: Olive Custance - -Release Date: September 23, 2007 [EBook #22736] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INN OF DREAMS *** - - - - -Produced by Ruth Hart - - - - - - -THE INN OF DREAMS - -BY - -OLIVE CUSTANCE -(LADY AFRED DOUGLAS) - - - -LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD -NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY, MCMXI - -WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES - - - - - -DEDICATION - -J'CRIS POUR QUE LE JOUR O JE NE SERAI PLUS - -J'cris pour que le jour o je ne serai plus -On sache comme l'air et le plaisir m'ont plu, -Et que mon livre porte la foule future -Comme j'aimais la vie et l'heureuse nature. - -Attentive aux travaux des champs et des maisons -J'ai marqu chaque jour la forme des saisons, -Parce que l'eau, la terre et la montante flamme -En nul endroit ne sont si belles qu'en mon me. - -J'ai dit ce que j'ai vu et ce que j'ai senti, -D'un coeur pour qui le vrai ne fut point trop hardi, -Et j'ai eu cette ardeur, par l'amour intime, -Pour tre aprs la mort parfois encore aime, - -Et qu'un jeune homme alors lisant ce que j'cris, -Sentant par moi son coeur, mu, troubl, surpris, -Ayant tout oubli des pouses relles, -M'accueille dans son me et me prfre elles. - - COMTESSE MATHIEU DE NOAILLES - - - -CONTENTS - -Dedication (Comtesse de Noailles) . . . v -The Inn of Dreams . . . 3 -The Kingdom of Heaven . . . 5 -A Dream . . . 6 -The Autumn Day . . . 8 -Angels . . . 10 -The Changeling . . . 11 -A Song Against Care . . . 14 -"Quelque part une Enfance trs douce et mourir" . . . 16 -Candle-Light . . . 18 -In the South . . . 20 -Spring in the South . . . 22 -"I am Weary, let me Sleep" . . . 24 -Grief . . . 26 -Daffodil Dawn . . . 28 -Beauty . . . 29 -The Vision . . . 31 -The Dance . . . 33 -The Prisoner of God . . . 36 -The Storm . . . 38 -St. Anthony . . . 41 -Black Butterflies . . . 43 -In Praise of Youth . . . 45 -Opal Song . . . 47 -Gifts . . . 48 -Primrose Hill . . . 50 -A Morning Song . . . 52 -The Wings of Fortune . . . 53 -Shadow-Nets . . . 55 -Peacocks. A Mood . . . 56 -Hyacinthus . . . 58 -Hylas . . . 61 -Blue Flowers . . . 63 -Madrigal . . . 64 -Endymion . . . 65 -Dance Song . . . 66 -A Memory . . . 67 -The Photograph . . . 69 -St. Sebastian . . . 71 -The Magic Mirrors . . . 73 - - - - - -The Inn of Dreams - - Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight! -My heart is like a lighted Inn that waits -Your swift approach . . . and at the open gates -White Beauty stands and listens like a flower. -She has been dreaming of you in the night, -O fairy Princes; and her eyes are bright. -Spur your fleet horses, this is Beauty's hour! -Even as when a golden flame up-curled -Quivers and flickers out in a dark place, -So is it with the flame of Beauty's face-- -That torch! that rose! that wonder of the world! -And Love shall weep to see--when he rides by -Years hence (the time shall seem as a bird's flight)-- -A lonely Inn beneath a winter sky. -Come now, sweet friends! before the summer die. - Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight! - - - - - -The Kingdom of Heaven - -O World that holds me by the wings, - How shall my soul escape your snares? -So dear are your delightful things, - So difficult your toils and cares: -That, every way my soul is held - By bonds of love, and bonds of hate; -With all its heavenly ardours quelled, - And all its angels desolate . . . - -Yet in the heart of every child, -God and the world are reconciled! . . . - - - - - -A Dream - -I dreamed we walked together, you and I, -Along a white and lonely road, that went -I know not where . . . and we were well content. -Our laughter was untroubled as the sky, -And all our talk was delicate and shy, -Though in that cage of words wild thoughts were pent -Like prisoned birds that some sweet accident -Might yet release to sing again, and fly. -We passed between long lines of poplar trees . . . -Where, summer comrades gay and debonair, -The south wind and the sunlight danced . . . you smiled, -With great glad eyes, as bright as summer seas, -To feel their twinkling fingers in your hair . . -And then you kissed me, quickly, like a child! - - - - - -The Autumn Day - -How delicately steps the autumn day -In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey -Over the level country that I love! - -With glittering veils of light about her head -And skirts of wide horizons round her spread -White as the white wing-feathers of a dove. - -Her feet, a flash of silver on the sea, -Chase silver sails that fly untiringly -Towards the enchanted Islands of the West. - -Beautiful Islands, gardens of delight! -That flower at dawn with roses red and white . . . -And flame at sunset gold and amethyst . . . - -How delicately steps the autumn day -In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey -Over the level country that I love . . . - -And how my heart that all sweet things beguile -Goes laughing with her for a little while . . . -And then turns homeward like a weary dove. - - - - - -Angels - -When life is difficult, I dream -Of how the angels dance in heaven! -Of how the angels dance and sing -In gardens of eternal spring, -Because their sins have been forgiven . . . -And never more for them shall be -The terrors of mortality! -When life is difficult, I dream -Of how the angels dance in heaven . . . - - - - - -The Changeling - -My father was a golden king, - My mother was a shining queen; -I heard the magic blue-bird sing . . . - They wrapped me in a mantle green. - -They led their winged white horses out, - We rode and rode till dawn was grey; -We rode with many a song and shout, - "Over the hills and far away." - -They stole the crying human child, - And left me laughing by the fire; -And that is why my heart is wild, - And all my life a long desire . . . - -The old enchantments hold me still . . . - And sometimes in a waking trance -I seek again the Fairy Hill, - The midnight feast, the glittering dance! - -The wizard harpers play for me, - I wear a crown upon my head, -A princess in eternity, - I dance and revel with the dead . . . - -"Vain lies!" I hear the people cry, - I listen to their weary truth; -Then turn again to fantasy, - And the untroubled Land of Youth. - -I hear the laughter of the kings, - I see their jewelled flagons gleam . . . -O wine of Life! . . . immortal things - Move in the splendour of my dream . . . - -My spirit is a homing dove . . . - I drain a crystal cup, and fall -Softly into the arms of Love . . . - And then the darkness covers all. - - - - - -A Song Against Care - - O Care! -Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne, -Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies -(For seldom--seldom art thou stained and torn, -Showing a tattered lining, and the bare -Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair -To look at, O thou garment of our pride! -A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise; -He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . . -And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . . -And after . . . when men know the agony -Of thy great weight of splendour, and would shake -Thee swiftly from their shoulders, cast aside -The burden of thy jewelled bands that break -Their very hearts . . . often it is too late. -They fear the world will mock them and deride -When they are stripped of all their golden state. -But some are brave . . . but some among us dare -Cry out against thy torment and be free! -And I would rather a gay beggar be, -And go in rags for all eternity, -Than that thy clanking pomp should cover me, - O Care! . . . - - - - - -"Quelque part une Enfance trs douce doit mourir" - Albert Samian - -Alas! I do not know on what sad day -My childhood went away . . . -It may have left me softly in the night - When I was sleeping--dreaming--who can tell? -Perhaps it whispered "wings were made for flight!" - I only know it never said "farewell" . . . - -And so I cannot tell when youth will go -Although I love it so . . . -But like a little amorous girl that clings - To some fair boy, my spirit all afraid, -While yet she holds youth back by the bright wings, - Knows he must leave her for some other maid! - - - - - -Candle-Light - -Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath, -Flickering points of honey-coloured flame, -From sunset gardens of the moon you came, -Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death . . . - -Blossoms of opal fire that raised on high -Upon a hundred silver stems are seen -Above the brilliant dance, or set between -The brimming wine-cups . . . flowers of revelry! - -Roses with amber petals that arise -Out of the purple darkness of the night -To deck the darkened house of Love, to light -The laughing lips, the beautiful glad eyes. - -Lilies with violet-coloured hearts that break -In shining clusters round the silent dead, -A diadem of stars at feet and head, -The glory dazzles . . . but they do not wake . . . - -O golden flowers the moon goes gathering -In magic gardens of her fairy-land, -While splendid angels of the sunset stand -Watching in flaming circles wing to wing . . . - -Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath, -That wither in the hands of light, and die -When bright dawn wakens in a silver sky. -Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death. - - - - - -In the South - -I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees -That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads, -And are grave and cold and grey in spite of the sun . . . -In the veils of rose and blue that the bright dawn spun -Day wrapped me round in vain! -I longed for the lovers and friends I had left behind, -I longed for the North again. - -I was deaf to song, and even to beauty blind, -Blind to the magic woof that summer weaves, -While roses beat their pearl and ruby leaves -Against my window pane . . . -And orange flowers so passionately white, -So richly perfumed, pined for my delight: -Only my faint heart sighed, -In pity when the glory waned and died, -For all that lovely life unsatisfied! - -I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees -That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads . . . - - - - - -Spring in the South - -Beautiful as some rich embroidery -The valley lies in verdant amplitude, -Great mountains--like old merchants--o'er it brood-- -And as a lovely woman languidly -Trailing her long blue robes, so comes the sea -To touch it softly in a wistful mood . . . -The sky forgets her starry multitude, -Seeing how fair mere earthly flowers can be! - -Glad country where the wayward feet of Spring, -Moving in mystic dances, bring desire, -New miracles of beauty every day . . . -Where Love and sweet Delight fly wing to wing -Forgetful as in dreams, that bright as fire -So burn the hours of joy as swift away! - - - - - -"I am Weary, let me Sleep" - -I am weary, let me sleep -In some great embroidered bed, -With soft pillows for my head. -I am weary, let me sleep . . . -Petals of sweet roses shed -All around a perfumed heap -White as pearls, and ruby red; -Curtains closely drawn to keep -Wings of darkness o'er me spread . . . -I am weary, let me sleep -In some great embroidered bed. -Let me dream that I am dead, -Nevermore to wake and weep -In the future that I dread . . . -For the ways of life are steep . . . -I am weary, let me sleep . . . - - - - - -Grief - -I, that was once so eager for the light, -The vehement pomp and passion of the day, -Am tired at last, and glad to steal away -Across the dusky borders of the night. -The purple darkness now is my delight, -And with great stars my lonely sorrows play, -As still, some proud and tragic princess may -With diamonds make her desolation bright. - -Night has become a temple for my tears . . . -The moon a silver shroud for my despair, -And all the golden forests of the spheres -Have showered their splendours on me leaf by leaf -Till men that meet me in the sunlight, stare -To see the shining garment of my grief! - - - - - -Daffodil Dawn - -While I slept, and dreamed of you, -Morning, like a princess, came, -All in robe of palest blue: -Stooped and gathered in that hour -From the east a golden flower, -Great and shining flower of flame . . . -Then she hastened on her way -Singing over plain and hill-- -While I slept and dreamed of you -Dreams that never can come true . . -Morning at the gates of Day, -Gathered Dawn, the daffodil! - - - - - -Beauty - -I saw the face of Beauty--a pale rose -In the gold dusk of her abundant hair . . . -A silken web of dreams and joys--a snare . . -A net of pleasures in a world of woes, -A bright temptation for gay youth that goes -Laughing upon his way without a care! -A shield of light for conquering Love to bear -Stronger than all the swords of all his foes. - -O face of Beauty--O white dawn enshrined -In sunrise veils of splendid hair--O star! -Shine on those weary men who sadly wise -But guess thy glory faintly from afar-- -Missing the marvel of thy smile--and blind -To the imperial passion in thine eyes! - - - - - -The Vision - -I come from lonely downs and silent woods, -With winter in my heart, a withered world, -A heavy weight of dark and sorrowful things, -And all my dreams spread out their rainbow wings, -And turn again to those bright solitudes -Where Beauty met me in a thousand moods, -And all her shining banners were unfurled . . . -And where I snatched from the sweet hands of Spring -A crystal cup and drank a mystic wine, -And walked alone a secret perfumed way, -And saw the glittering Angels at their play. -And heard the golden birds of Heaven sing, -And woke . . . to find white lilies clustering -And all the emerald wood an empty shrine, -Fragrant with myrrh and frankincense and spice, -And echoing yet the flutes of Paradise . . . - - - - - -The Dance - -Do you remember that day I danced in the woods, - Under the dancing leaves? -Do you remember the delicate blue of the sky - And the gold-dust in the air? -And the tawny harvest fields, and the heavy sheaves? -Summer was surely in one of her bravest moods . . . - And oh, the rare -Swift joy that lifted life to an ecstasy, -That shining day I danced for you, dear, in the woods! - -The purple twilight came, and the amber moon . . . - And the fairies danced with me . . . -And the shy fauns crept from the tangled thicket near, - And the startled dryads bent, -White and starry-eyed, each from her secret tree, -To watch that mystical dance, to share that heavenly swoon - That mad, bright banishment. . . . -For we were free in the perfect country, dear, -When purple twilight came and the amber moon . . . - -Some day I shall dance again that mystical dance . . . - I know not when or where! -But the angels shall dance with me, and I shall not be afraid. - I shall look in their deep eyes . . . -And feel their arms about me, and their kisses in my hair, -And know that time is over, and the desperate ways of chance. . . . - I shall be very wise, -And glad at last, and the walls of the world shall fade . . . -The day when I dance again that mystical dance. - - - - - -The Prisoner of God - -Once long and long ago I knew delight. -God gave my spirit wings and a glad voice. -I was a bird that sang at dawn and noon, -That sang at starry evening time and night; -Sang at the sun's great golden doors, and furled -Brave wings in the white gardens of the moon; -That sang and soared beyond the dusty world. - -Once long and long ago I did rejoice, -But now I am a stone that falls and falls. -A prisoner, cursing the blank prison walls, -Helpless and dumb, with desperate eyes, that see -The terrible beauty of those simple things -My soul disdained when she was proud and free. -And I can only pray: God pity me, -God pity me and give me back my voice! -God pity me and give me back my wings! - - - - - -The Storm - -What do they hunt to-night, the hounds of the wind? -I think it is joy they hunt, for joy has fled from my heart. -I only remember the hours when I sorrowed or sinned, -I only remember the hours when I stood apart -Lonely and tired, in difficult dreams entranced, -And I forget the days when I loved, and laughed, and danced. - -Grey hounds of the wind, I hear your wistful cry, -The cry of unsatisfied hearts hungry for happiness -The house is full of whispering ghosts as you hurry by, -And my soul is heavy and dark with a great distress, -For heaven is far away, and hope is dead; -And the night is a tomb of tears, and despair, and dread. - -O hunt no more wild hounds of the wind and rain, -For my soul is afraid of the sound of your hurrying feet, -And surely under the stars a beautiful joy is slain? -Fly! black wings of sorrow . . . wet wings of the night that beat -At the shuttered windows, swiftly fly away, -Before God stoops to gather the golden flower of day. - - - - - -St. Anthony - -THE ENGRAVING BY DRER - -Drer has drawn him resting by the way . . . -Has he returned from some far pilgrimage? -Or just come out into the light of day -From a dark hermit's cell? We cannot know . . . -With stooping shoulders, and with head bent low -Over his book--and pointed hood drawn down. -His eager eyes devour the printed page . . . -Regardless of the little lovely town -Rising behind him, with its clustered towers . . . -O Saint, look up! and see how gay and fair -The earth is in its summer-time of flowers, -Look up, and see the world, for God is there . . . -Old dreaming Saint, how many are like you, -Intent upon the dusty book of fate: -Slow to discern the false things from the true! -Yet weary of world clamour and world hate, -And hungering for eternal certainties . . . -Not knowing how close about them heaven lies! - - - - - -Black Butterflies - -O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies! -Wild words of all the wayward songs I sing . . . -Called from the tomb of some enchanted past -By that strange sphinx, my soul, they slowly rise -And settle on white pages wing to wing . . . -White pages like flower-petals fluttering -Held spellbound there till some blind hour shall bring -The perfect voice that, delicate and wise, -Shall set them free in fairyland at last! -That garden of all dreams and ecstasies -Where my soul sings through an eternal spring, -Watching alone with enigmatic eyes, -Dark wings on pale flower-petals quivering . . . -O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies! - - - - - -In Praise of Youth - -O delicate youth, thy praises shall be sung -While yet my heart is young . . . -While Life and I, in search of lovely things, -Go out with dancing feet and dreaming eyes, -And find wild Folly, with her rainbow wings, -Sweeter than all the wisdom of the wise. - -O delicate Youth, thy praises shall be sung -While yet my heart is young . . . -Thy whiteness, and thy brightness, and the sweet -Flushed softness of thy little restless feet . . . -The tossed and sunny tangle of thy hair, -Thy swiftness, slimness, shyness, simpleness, -That set the old folk sighing for the rare -Red rose of Joy thy careless days possess. - -. . . And when at last, with sad, indifferent face, -I walk in narrow pathways patiently; -Forgetful of thy beauty, and thy truth, -Thy ringing laughter, thy rebellious grace . . . -When fair Love turns his face away from me . . . -Then, let me die, O delicate sweet Youth! - - - - - -Opal Song - -Shy and wild . . . shy and wild -To my lovers I have been. -Frank and wayward as a child, -Strange and secret as a queen; -Fain of love, and love beguiled, -Yet afraid of love, I ween! - -False and true . . . false and true -Is the woman's heart in me . . . -Fair lost faces that I rue, -Golden friends I laugh to see, -Changing, I come back to you, -Never doubt my loyalty! - - - - - -Gifts - -Come near! you are my friend and I will wear -Gems for your sake, and flowers in my hair; -Garments of silver gauze, and cloth of gold . . . -And I will give you power to have and hold, -And passion, and delight and ecstasy. -What will you give to me? - -And I will give you, if you will but stay, -The magic mirror of the dawn, where day -Waking, beholds the wonder of her face-- -If you will keep me yet in your embrace, -And let me dream of Love's eternity. -What will you give to me? - -Yes! I will give you the gold veils of light, -And the dark spangled curtains of the night . . . -And I will give you as a flower unfurled, -The proud and marvellous beauty of the world, -And all the wild, white horses of the sea. -What will you give to me? . . . - - - - - -Primrose Hill - -Wild heart in me that frets and grieves, -Imprisoned here against your will . . . -Sad heart that dreams of rainbow wings -See! I have found some golden things! -The poplar trees on Primrose Hill -With all their shining play of leaves . . . -And London like a silver bride, -That will not put her veil aside! - -Proud London like a painted Queen, -Whose crown is heavy on her head . . . -City of sorrow and desire, -Under a sky of opal fire, -Amber and amethyst and red . . . -And how divine the day has been! -For every dawn God builds again -This world of beauty and of pain . . . - -Wild heart that hungers for delight, -Imprisoned here against your will; -Sad heart, so eager to be gay! -Loving earth's lovely things . . . the play -Of wind and leaves on Primrose Hill . . . -Or London dreaming of the night . . . -Adventurous heart, on beauty bent, -That only Heaven could quite content! - - - - - -A Morning Song - -You saw my window open wide, - And woke me early, sister day! -You came in all your lovely pride, -With laughing looks that I adore, - With wings of blue and grey . . . -With sunshine skirts that swept the floor, -With songs to drive night's dreams away, - You called me out to play. -And so I took you by the hand, -And found the way to fairyland . . . -With such impatient feet I climb - The ladders of delight! -For well I know that ruthless time - Turns morning moods to tears and night. - - - - - -The Wings of Fortune - -Fair fortune you are wild and coy, -Fickle, mysterious, and shy . . . -And so we lost you, Love and I! -And now, at last, because we find -Your golden footprints, Love the boy, -Dreams you are near . . . but Love is blind! -Yet, surely Sorrow's arms unwind -From this tired heart, and dark distress -Fades softly . . . softly from the world: -And in Hope's silver sky unfurled, -I see the banners of delight! -And the grey heaven of life grows bright -With the red dawn of happiness . . . -As with a laughing look Love flings -His heavy crown of thorns away . . . -Fair fortune, you are wild and coy, -And ah! I fear you will not stay. -But Love has caught you by the wings -And radiant as Eurydice -By her brave poet's song set free, -I rush into the arms of joy! - - - - - -Shadow-Nets - -When I was wandering on the Downs to-day -I saw the pine-woods sleeping in the sun . . . -For they were tired of weaving shadow-nets-- -Weaving all day in vain . . . in vain . . . in vain . . . -Pale phantom nets to snare the golden sun! -And then I thought of how the poets weave -With shadowy words their cunning nets of song, -Hoping to catch, at last, a shining dream! - - - - - -Peacocks. A Mood - -In Gorgeous plumage, azure, gold and green, -They trample the pale flowers, and their shrill cry -Troubles the garden's bright tranquillity! -Proud birds of Beauty, splendid and serene, -Spreading their brilliant fans, screen after screen -Of burnished sapphire, gemmed with mimic suns-- -Strange magic eyes, that, so the legend runs, -Will bring misfortune to this fair demesne . . . - -And my gay youth, that, vain and debonair, -Sits in the sunshine--tired at last of play -(A child, that finds the morning all too long), -Tempts with its beauty that disastrous day -When in the gathering darkness of despair -Death shall strike dumb the laughing mouth of song. - - - - - -Hyacinthus - -Fair boy, how gay the morning must have seemed -Before the fatal game that murdered thee! -Of such a dawn my wistful heart has dreamed: -Surely I too have lived in Arcady -When Spring, lap-full of roses, ran to meet -White Aphrodite risen from the sea . . . - -Perchance I saw thee then, so glad and fleet; -Hasten to greet Apollo, stoop to bind -The gold and jewelled sandals on his feet, -While he so radiant, so divinely kind, -Lured thee with honeyed words to be his friend, -All heedless of thy fate, for Love is blind. - -For Love is blind and cruel, and the end -Of every joy is sorrow and distress. -And when immortal creatures lightly bend -To kiss the lips of simple loveliness, -Swords are unsheathed in silence, and clouds rise, -Some God is jealous of the mute caress . . . - -But who shall mourn thy death--ah, not the wise? -Better to perish in thy happiest hour, -To close in sight of beauty thy dark eyes, -And, dying so, be changed into a flower, -Than that the stealthy and relentless years -Should steal that grace which was thy only dower. - -And bring thee in return dull cares and tears, -And difficult days and sickness and despair . . . -O, not for thee the griefs and sordid fears -That, like a burden, trembling age must bear; -Slain in thy youth, by the sweet hands of Love, -Thou shalt remain for ever young and fair . . . - - - - - -Hylas - -Dark boy, how radiantly you went to meet -Your mystic doom . . . what colours in the sky! -As though that cup of beauty the gods hold -Brimmed over on a world in ecstasy . . . -What silver flutes charmed all the forest ways . . . -How the green shimmered, jewelled thick with flowers, -And how the sun was like a globe of gold . . . -Yet you but thought to chase the perfect hours -Down that white road of wonder and delight, -The highway of your dreams, and heedlessly -You crushed the violets with your slim brown feet, -And whistled low, and sang a careless song . . . -Because your life was full of lovely days, -Because your life was delicate and sweet . . . -O youth and dawn . . . you dreamed not of the night . . . -O life and laughter . . . but the night is long . . . - - - - - -Blue Flowers - -I go to gather in the woods for you -The wild flowers that are blue . . . -Petals to match the colour of your eyes! - -None but blue blossoms will I take, yet see -How sweetly tempting me -The fruit trees swing their scented treasuries. - -And how the buttercups and daisies dance -To meet my dazzled glance! -But gold and silver, Sweet, are naught to you. - -And so let others rob God's gardens . . . shake -The stars down for your sake-- -I bring you but the wild flowers that are blue! - - - - - -Madrigal - -Rare garden where my heart goes gathering -Many a lovely and delightful thing, -Pale roses of your body and the fair -Unrivalled yellow blossoms of your hair! - -Tall lilies of your gay and careless grace, -And O the wistful flower of your face! -And all the soft and starry mysteries -Of those divine forget-me-nots, your eyes . . . - -O come, fair Love, before the flowers fade, -And bless this garden that the gods have made . . . -Rare garden where my heart goes gathering -Many a lovely and delightful thing . . . - - - - - -Endymion - -Your hair was like a honey-coloured flame -Seen through a veil of silver when you came -And took me in your arms that winter night . . . -The moonlight, amorous of your golden hair, -Toyed with it softly, as a woman might -With some bright treasure, delicate and rare. - -O, young Endymion, risen from the dead, -Born once again to beauty, O bright head! -The moon stoops low to kiss you, as of old; -Stoops graciously from her great throne of pearl, -With outstretched arms mysterious and cold . . . -But you have left her for a mortal girl. - - - - - -Dance Song - -O hide your passion from the moon. -When young and slender she appears -In shining gown and silver shoon . . . -And, all her path with stars impearled, -She dances round the darkened world. - -O hide your sorrows from the sun . . . -The sun should never see your tears! -Weep, if you will, when day is done . . . -But laugh and sing and clap your hands -While yet the sun in heaven stands. - - - - - -A Memory - -O how I loved you when we met -For that one moment of the day! -Yes, loved you desperately, and yet -Could scarcely find a word to say-- -No wonder that you looked and smiled -As though upon some timid child. -You never guessed, how could you guess -That I adored your loveliness! - -You never saw the prisoned soul -Behind the windows of my eyes, -Frantic to break from fate's control -And charm you with her flatteries . . . -And show you, your cold heart to move, -The shining treasure of her love, -And worship in a long embrace, -The reckless beauty of your face! - -You never knew . . . and the dream died -A broken rose beneath your feet . . . -You went your way . . . the world is wide -And I forgot, for youth is sweet . . . -Yet when at night I lie awake, -My heart is sad for a dream's sake, -And I remember and regret . . . -O how I loved you when we met! - - - - - -The Photograph - -O Beauty, what is this? -A shadow of your face . . . -Where is the wild flower grace -That Love is wont to kiss? - -Where is the bird that brings -To your untroubled eyes -The blue of fairy skies, -The flash of fairy wings? . . . - -O wild bird of delight, -That no white hand may hold, -Or fairest cage of gold . . . -For who would stay its flight? - -The song-bird of your voice -Whose magic song Love hears, -Trembling behind your tears, -Trilling when you rejoice . . . - -O Beauty, what is this? -The shadow of a rose . . . -A little ghost that goes -Oblivious of Love's kiss. - -Only a shadow . . . yet -It may, in some dark hour -Recall the living flower . . . -If haply Love forget. - - - - - -St. Sebastian - -So beautiful in all thine agony! -So radiant in thine infinite despair . . . -Oh, delicate mouth, brave eyes, and curled bright hair . . . -Oh, lovely body lashed to the rough tree: -What brutal fools were those that gave to thee -Red roses of thine outraged blood to wear, -Laughed at thy bitter pain and loathed the fair -Bruised flower of thy victorious purity? - -Marvellous Beauty . . . target of the world, -How all Love's arrows seek thy joy, Oh Sweet! -And wound the white perfection of thy youth! -How all the poisoned spears of hate are hurled -Against thy sorrow when thou darest to meet -With martyrdom men's mockery of the truth! - - - - - -The Magic Mirrors - -In the dim mirrors of imagination, -I watch the silent dancing of my soul . . . -I watch her as she dances with my dreams . . . -See how she takes innumerable disguises, -And hides her beauty behind many masks, -And how, sometimes, she seems to laugh and sing, -. . . And weep . . . and call upon the unknown Gods . . . -But not one mirror has betrayed her voice, -Or shown to me the secret of her face . . . -O silent dance of sorrow and delight, -My heart grown tired with watching, turns away, -To make perhaps a little passionate song -Out of the shadows of immortal things . . . - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inn of Dreams, by Olive Custance - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INN OF DREAMS *** - -***** This file should be named 22736-8.txt or 22736-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/3/22736/ - -Produced by Ruth Hart - -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. 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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 +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ -Title: The Inn of Dreams +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} -Author: Olive Custance +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} -Release Date: September 23, 2007 [EBook #22736] +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } -Language: English +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INN OF DREAMS *** +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} +</style> -Produced by Ruth Hart +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 22736 ***</div> +<h1>THE INN OF DREAMS</h1> +<h5>BY</h5> +<h2 class="no-break">OLIVE CUSTANCE<br/> +(LADY AFRED DOUGLAS)</h2> -</pre> +<h4>LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEYD HEAD<br/> +NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY, MCMXI<br/> +<br/> +WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES</h4> +<hr /> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="1"></a>DEDICATION</h2> -<center> +<p class="center"> +J’ÉCRIS POUR QUE LE JOUR OÙ JE NE SERAI PLUS +</p> -<p>THE INN OF DREAMS</p> +<p class="noindent"> +J’écris pour que le jour où je ne serai plus<br/> +On sache comme l’air et le plaisir m’ont plu,<br/> +Et que mon livre porte à la foule future<br/> +Comme j’aimais la vie et l’heureuse nature.<br/> +<br/> +Attentive aux travaux des champs et des maisons<br/> +J’ai marqué chaque jour la forme des saisons,<br/> +Parce que l’eau, la terre et la montante flamme<br/> +En nul endroit ne sont si belles qu’en mon âme.<br/> +<br/> +J’ai dit ce que j’ai vu et ce que j’ai senti,<br/> +D’un coeur pour qui le vrai ne fut point trop hardi,<br/> +Et j’ai eu cette ardeur, par l’amour intimée,<br/> +Pour être après la mort parfois encore aimée,<br/> +<br/> +Et qu’un jeune homme alors lisant ce que j’écris,<br/> +Sentant par moi son coeur, ému, troublé, surpris,<br/> +Ayant tout oublié des épouses réelles,<br/> +M’accueille dans son âme et me préfère à elles. +</p> -<p>BY</p> +<p> + COMTESSE MATHIEU DE NOAILLES +</p> -<p>OLIVE CUSTANCE<br>(LADY AFRED DOUGLAS)</p><br> +</div><!--end chapter--> -<p>LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEYD HEAD<br> -NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY, MCMXI<br> -<br> -WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES</p> -</center> +<div class="chapter"> -<br> -<a name="1"></a> -<br> -<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> -<p>DEDICATION</p> +<table summary="" style=""> -<p>J'CRIS POUR QUE LE JOUR O JE NE SERAI PLUS</p> +<tr> +<td><a href="#1">Dedication (Comtesse de Noailles)</a></td> +</tr> -<p>J'cris pour que le jour o je ne serai plus<br> -On sache comme l'air et le plaisir m'ont plu,<br> -Et que mon livre porte la foule future<br> -Comme j'aimais la vie et l'heureuse nature.</p> +<tr> +<td><a href="#2">The Inn of Dreams</a></td> +</tr> -<p>Attentive aux travaux des champs et des maisons<br> -J'ai marqu chaque jour la forme des saisons,<br> -Parce que l'eau, la terre et la montante flamme<br> -En nul endroit ne sont si belles qu'en mon me.</p> +<tr> +<td><a href="#3">The Kingdom of Heaven</a></td> +</tr> -<p>J'ai dit ce que j'ai vu et ce que j'ai senti,<br> -D'un coeur pour qui le vrai ne fut point trop hardi,<br> -Et j'ai eu cette ardeur, par l'amour intime,<br> -Pour tre aprs la mort parfois encore aime,</p> +<tr> +<td><a href="#4">A Dream</a></td> +</tr> -<p>Et qu'un jeune homme alors lisant ce que j'cris,<br> -Sentant par moi son coeur, mu, troubl, surpris,<br> -Ayant tout oubli des pouses relles,<br> -M'accueille dans son me et me prfre elles.</p> +<tr> +<td><a href="#5">The Autumn Day</a></td> +</tr> -<p> COMTESSE MATHIEU DE NOAILLES</p> +<tr> +<td><a href="#6">Angels</a></td> +</tr> -<center> +<tr> +<td><a href="#7">The Changeling</a></td> +</tr> -<br> +<tr> +<td><a href="#8">A Song Against Care</a> </td> +</tr> -<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<tr> +<td><a href="#9">"Quelque part une Enfance très douce et mourir"</a></td> +</tr> -<table id="table1"> -<tr><td><a href="#1">Dedication (Comtesse de Noailles)</a></td><td align="right"> - v</td></tr> -<tr><td><a href="#2"> - The Inn of Dreams</a></td><td align="right"> - 3</td></tr> -<tr><td><a href="#3"> - The Kingdom of Heaven</a></td><td align="right"> - 5</td></tr> -<tr><td><a href="#4">A Dream</a></td><td align="right"> - 6 </td></tr> -<tr><td><a href="#5">The Autumn Day</a></td><td align="right"> - 8 </td></tr> -<tr><td><a href="#6">Angels</a></td><td align="right"> - 10</td></tr> -<tr><td><a href="#7">The Changeling</a></td><td align="right"> - 11</td></tr> -<tr><td><a href="#8">A Song Against Care</a> </td><td align="right"> -14</td></tr> <tr> - <td><a href="#9">"Quelque part une Enfance trs douce et mourir"</a></td><td align="right"> - 16</td> +<td><a href="#10">Candle-Light</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#10">Candle-Light</a></td><td align="right"> - 18</td> +<td><a href="#11">In the South</a></td> </tr> -<tr><td><a href="#11">In the South</a></td><td align="right"> - 20</td></tr> <tr> - <td><a href="#12">Spring in the South</a></td><td align="right"> - 22</td> +<td><a href="#12">Spring in the South</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#13">"I am Weary, let me Sleep"</a></td><td align="right"> - 24</td> +<td><a href="#13">“I am Weary, let me Sleep”</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#14">Grief</a></td><td align="right"> - 26</td> +<td><a href="#14">Grief</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#15">Daffodil Dawn</a></td><td align="right"> - 28</td> +<td><a href="#15">Daffodil Dawn</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#16">Beauty</a></td><td align="right"> - 29</td> +<td><a href="#16">Beauty</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#17">The Vision</a></td><td align="right"> - 31</td> +<td><a href="#17">The Vision</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#18">The Dance</a></td><td align="right"> - 33</td> +<td><a href="#18">The Dance</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#19">The Prisoner of God</a></td><td align="right"> - 36</td> +<td><a href="#19">The Prisoner of God</a></td> </tr> <tr> - <td><a href="#20">The Storm</a></td><td align="right"> - 38</td> +<td><a href="#20">The Storm</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#21">St. Anthony</a></td><td align="right"> - 41</td> +<td><a href="#21">St. Anthony</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#22">Black Butterflies</a></td><td align="right"> - 43</td> +<td><a href="#22">Black Butterflies</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#23">In - Praise of Youth</a></td><td align="right"> - 45</td> +<td><a href="#23">In Praise of Youth</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#24">Opal Song</a></td><td align="right"> - 47</td> +<td><a href="#24">Opal Song</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#25">Gifts</a></td><td align="right"> - 48</td> +<td><a href="#25">Gifts</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#26">Primrose Hill</a></td><td align="right"> - 50</td> +<td><a href="#26">Primrose Hill</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#27">A Morning Song</a></td><td align="right"> - 52</td> +<td><a href="#27">A Morning Song</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#28">The Wings of Fortune</a></td><td align="right"> - 53</td> +<td><a href="#28">The Wings of Fortune</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#29">Shadow-Nets</a></td><td align="right"> - 55</td> +<td><a href="#29">Shadow-Nets</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#30">Peacocks. A Mood</a></td><td align="right"> - 56</td> +<td><a href="#30">Peacocks. A Mood</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#31">Hyacinthus</a></td><td align="right"> - 58</td> +<td><a href="#31">Hyacinthus</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#32">Hylas</a></td><td align="right"> - 61</td> +<td><a href="#32">Hylas</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#33">Blue Flowers</a></td><td align="right"> - 63</td> +<td><a href="#33">Blue Flowers</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#34">Madrigal</a></td><td align="right"> - 64</td> +<td><a href="#34">Madrigal</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#35">Endymion</a></td><td align="right"> - 65</td> +<td><a href="#35">Endymion</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#36">Dance Song</a></td><td align="right"> - 66</td> +<td><a href="#36">Dance Song</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#37">A Memory</a></td><td align="right"> - 67</td> +<td><a href="#37">A Memory</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#38">The Photograph</a></td><td align="right"> - 69</td> +<td><a href="#38">The Photograph</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#39">St. Sebastian</a></td><td align="right"> - 71</td> +<td><a href="#39">St. Sebastian</a></td> </tr> + <tr> - <td><a href="#40">The Magic Mirrors</a></td><td align="right"> - 73</td> +<td><a href="#40">The Magic Mirrors</a></td> </tr> </table> -</center> - - -<br> -<a name="2"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Inn of Dreams</p> - -<p> Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight!<br> -My heart is like a lighted Inn that waits<br> -Your swift approach . . . and at the open gates<br> -White Beauty stands and listens like a flower.<br> -She has been dreaming of you in the night,<br> -O fairy Princes; and her eyes are bright.<br> -Spur your fleet horses, this is Beauty's hour!<br> -Even as when a golden flame up-curled<br> -Quivers and flickers out in a dark place,<br> -So is it with the flame of Beauty's face<br> -That torch! that rose! that wonder of the world!<br> -And Love shall weep to seewhen he rides by<br> -Years hence (the time shall seem as a bird's flight)<br> -A lonely Inn beneath a winter sky.<br> -Come now, sweet friends! before the summer die.<br> - -Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight!</p> - -<br> -<a name="3"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Kingdom of Heaven</p> - -<p>O World that holds me by the wings,<br> - -How shall my soul escape your snares?<br> -So dear are your delightful things,<br> - -So difficult your toils and cares:<br> -That, every way my soul is held<br> - -By bonds of love, and bonds of hate;<br> -With all its heavenly ardours quelled,<br> - -And all its angels desolate . . .</p> - -<p>Yet in the heart of every child,<br> -God and the world are reconciled! . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="4"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>A Dream</p> - -<p>I dreamed we walked together, you and I,<br> -Along a white and lonely road, that went<br> -I know not where . . . and we were well content.<br> -Our laughter was untroubled as the sky,<br> -And all our talk was delicate and shy,<br> -Though in that cage of words wild thoughts were pent<br> -Like prisoned birds that some sweet accident<br> -Might yet release to sing again, and fly.<br> -We passed between long lines of poplar trees . . .<br> -Where, summer comrades gay and debonair,<br> -The south wind and the sunlight danced . . . you smiled,<br> -With great glad eyes, as bright as summer seas,<br> -To feel their twinkling fingers in your hair . .<br> -And then you kissed me, quickly, like a child!</p> - -<br> -<a name="5"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Autumn Day</p> - -<p>How delicately steps the autumn day<br> -In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey<br> -Over the level country that I love!</p> - -<p>With glittering veils of light about her head<br> -And skirts of wide horizons round her spread<br> -White as the white wing-feathers of a dove.</p> - -<p>Her feet, a flash of silver on the sea,<br> -Chase silver sails that fly untiringly<br> -Towards the enchanted Islands of the West.</p> - -<p>Beautiful Islands, gardens of delight!<br> -That flower at dawn with roses red and white . . .<br> -And flame at sunset gold and amethyst . . .</p> - -<p>How delicately steps the autumn day<br> -In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey<br> -Over the level country that I love . . .</p> - -<p>And how my heart that all sweet things beguile<br> -Goes laughing with her for a little while . . .<br> -And then turns homeward like a weary dove.</p> - -<br> -<a name="6"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Angels</p> - -<p>When life is difficult, I dream<br> -Of how the angels dance in heaven!<br> -Of how the angels dance and sing<br> -In gardens of eternal spring,<br> -Because their sins have been forgiven . . .<br> -And never more for them shall be<br> -The terrors of mortality!<br> -When life is difficult, I dream<br> -Of how the angels dance in heaven . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="7"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Changeling</p> - -<p>My father was a golden king,<br> - -My mother was a shining queen;<br> -I heard the magic blue-bird sing . . .<br> - -They wrapped me in a mantle green.</p> - -<p>They led their winged white horses out,<br> - -We rode and rode till dawn was grey;<br> -We rode with many a song and shout,<br> - -"Over the hills and far away."</p> - -<p>They stole the crying human child,<br> - -And left me laughing by the fire;<br> -And that is why my heart is wild,<br> - -And all my life a long desire . . .</p> - -<p>The old enchantments hold me still . . .<br> - -And sometimes in a waking trance<br> -I seek again the Fairy Hill,<br> - -The midnight feast, the glittering dance!</p> - -<p>The wizard harpers play for me,<br> - -I wear a crown upon my head,<br> -A princess in eternity,<br> - -I dance and revel with the dead . . .</p> - -<p>"Vain lies!" I hear the people cry,<br> - -I listen to their weary truth;<br> -Then turn again to fantasy,<br> - -And the untroubled Land of Youth.</p> - -<p>I hear the laughter of the kings,<br> - -I see their jewelled flagons gleam . . .<br> -O wine of Life! . . . immortal things<br> - -Move in the splendour of my dream . . .</p> - -<p>My spirit is a homing dove . . .<br> - -I drain a crystal cup, and fall<br> -Softly into the arms of Love . . .<br> - -And then the darkness covers all.</p> - -<br> -<a name="8"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>A Song Against Care</p> - -<p> O Care!<br> -Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne,<br> -Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies<br> -(For seldomseldom art thou stained and torn,<br> -Showing a tattered lining, and the bare<br> -Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair<br> -To look at, O thou garment of our pride!<br> -A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise;<br> -He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . .<br> -And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . .<br> -And after . . . when men know the agony<br> -Of thy great weight of splendour, and would shake<br> -Thee swiftly from their shoulders, cast aside<br> -The burden of thy jewelled bands that break<br> -Their very hearts . . . often it is too late.<br> -They fear the world will mock them and deride<br> -When they are stripped of all their golden state.<br> -But some are brave . . . but some among us dare<br> -Cry out against thy torment and be free!<br> -And I would rather a gay beggar be,<br> -And go in rags for all eternity,<br> -Than that thy clanking pomp should cover me,<br> - -O Care! . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="9"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>"Quelque part une Enfance trs douce doit mourir"<br> - -Albert Samian</p> - -<p>Alas! I do not know on what sad day<br> -My childhood went away . . .<br> -It may have left me softly in the night<br> - -When I was sleepingdreamingwho can tell?<br> -Perhaps it whispered "wings were made for flight!"<br> - -I only know it never said "farewell" . . .</p> - -<p>And so I cannot tell when youth will go<br> -Although I love it so . . . <br> -But like a little amorous girl that clings<br> - -To some fair boy, my spirit all afraid,<br> -While yet she holds youth back by the bright wings,<br> - -Knows he must leave her for some other maid!</p> - -<br> -<a name="10"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Candle-Light</p> - -<p>Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath,<br> -Flickering points of honey-coloured flame,<br> -From sunset gardens of the moon you came,<br> -Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death . . .</p> - -<p>Blossoms of opal fire that raised on high<br> -Upon a hundred silver stems are seen<br> -Above the brilliant dance, or set between<br> -The brimming wine-cups . . . flowers of revelry!</p> - -<p>Roses with amber petals that arise<br> -Out of the purple darkness of the night<br> -To deck the darkened house of Love, to light<br> -The laughing lips, the beautiful glad eyes.</p> - -<p>Lilies with violet-coloured hearts that break<br> -In shining clusters round the silent dead,<br> -A diadem of stars at feet and head,<br> -The glory dazzles . . . but they do not wake . . .</p> - -<p>O golden flowers the moon goes gathering<br> -In magic gardens of her fairy-land,<br> -While splendid angels of the sunset stand<br> -Watching in flaming circles wing to wing . . .</p> - -<p>Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath,<br> -That wither in the hands of light, and die<br> -When bright dawn wakens in a silver sky.<br> -Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death.</p> - -<br> -<a name="11"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>In the South</p> - -<p>I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees<br> -That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads,<br> -And are grave and cold and grey in spite of the sun . . .<br> -In the veils of rose and blue that the bright dawn spun<br> -Day wrapped me round in vain!<br> -I longed for the lovers and friends I had left behind,<br> -I longed for the North again.</p> - -<p>I was deaf to song, and even to beauty blind,<br> -Blind to the magic woof that summer weaves,<br> -While roses beat their pearl and ruby leaves<br> -Against my window pane . . .<br> -And orange flowers so passionately white,<br> -So richly perfumed, pined for my delight:<br> -Only my faint heart sighed,<br> -In pity when the glory waned and died,<br> -For all that lovely life unsatisfied!</p> - -<p>I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees<br> -That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="12"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Spring in the South</p> - -<p>Beautiful as some rich embroidery<br> -The valley lies in verdant amplitude,<br> -Great mountainslike old merchantso'er it brood<br> -And as a lovely woman languidly<br> -Trailing her long blue robes, so comes the sea<br> -To touch it softly in a wistful mood . . .<br> -The sky forgets her starry multitude,<br> -Seeing how fair mere earthly flowers can be!</p> - -<p>Glad country where the wayward feet of Spring,<br> -Moving in mystic dances, bring desire,<br> -New miracles of beauty every day . . .<br> -Where Love and sweet Delight fly wing to wing<br> -Forgetful as in dreams, that bright as fire<br> -So burn the hours of joy as swift away!</p> - -<br> -<a name="13"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>"I am Weary, let me Sleep"</p> - -<p>I am weary, let me sleep<br> -In some great embroidered bed,<br> -With soft pillows for my head.<br> -I am weary, let me sleep . . .<br> -Petals of sweet roses shed<br> -All around a perfumed heap<br> -White as pearls, and ruby red;<br> -Curtains closely drawn to keep<br> -Wings of darkness o'er me spread . . .<br> -I am weary, let me sleep<br> -In some great embroidered bed.<br> -Let me dream that I am dead,<br> -Nevermore to wake and weep<br> -In the future that I dread . . .<br> -For the ways of life are steep . . .<br> -I am weary, let me sleep . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="14"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Grief</p> - -<p>I, that was once so eager for the light,<br> -The vehement pomp and passion of the day,<br> -Am tired at last, and glad to steal away<br> -Across the dusky borders of the night.<br> -The purple darkness now is my delight,<br> -And with great stars my lonely sorrows play,<br> -As still, some proud and tragic princess may<br> -With diamonds make her desolation bright.</p> - -<p>Night has become a temple for my tears . . .<br> -The moon a silver shroud for my despair,<br> -And all the golden forests of the spheres<br> -Have showered their splendours on me leaf by leaf<br> -Till men that meet me in the sunlight, stare<br> -To see the shining garment of my grief!</p> - -<br> -<a name="15"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Daffodil Dawn</p> - -<p>While I slept, and dreamed of you,<br> -Morning, like a princess, came,<br> -All in robe of palest blue:<br> -Stooped and gathered in that hour<br> -From the east a golden flower,<br> -Great and shining flower of flame . . .<br> -Then she hastened on her way<br> -Singing over plain and hill<br> -While I slept and dreamed of you<br> -Dreams that never can come true . .<br> -Morning at the gates of Day,<br> -Gathered Dawn, the daffodil!</p> - -<br> -<a name="16"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Beauty</p> - -<p>I saw the face of Beautya pale rose<br> -In the gold dusk of her abundant hair . . .<br> -A silken web of dreams and joysa snare . .<br> -A net of pleasures in a world of woes,<br> -A bright temptation for gay youth that goes<br> -Laughing upon his way without a care!<br> -A shield of light for conquering Love to bear<br> -Stronger than all the swords of all his foes.</p> -<p>O face of BeautyO white dawn enshrined<br> -In sunrise veils of splendid hairO star!<br> -Shine on those weary men who sadly wise<br> -But guess thy glory faintly from afar<br> -Missing the marvel of thy smileand blind<br> -To the imperial passion in thine eyes!</p> - -<br> -<a name="17"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Vision</p> - -<p>I come from lonely downs and silent woods,<br> -With winter in my heart, a withered world,<br> -A heavy weight of dark and sorrowful things,<br> -And all my dreams spread out their rainbow wings,<br> -And turn again to those bright solitudes<br> -Where Beauty met me in a thousand moods,<br> -And all her shining banners were unfurled . . .<br> -And where I snatched from the sweet hands of Spring<br> -A crystal cup and drank a mystic wine,<br> -And walked alone a secret perfumed way,<br> -And saw the glittering Angels at their play.<br> -And heard the golden birds of Heaven sing,<br> -And woke . . . to find white lilies clustering<br> -And all the emerald wood an empty shrine,<br> -Fragrant with myrrh and frankincense and spice,<br> -And echoing yet the flutes of Paradise . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="18"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Dance</p> - -<p>Do you remember that day I danced in the woods,<br> - -Under the dancing leaves?<br> -Do you remember the delicate blue of the sky<br> - -And the gold-dust in the air?<br> -And the tawny harvest fields, and the heavy sheaves?<br> -Summer was surely in one of her bravest moods . . .<br> - -And oh, the rare<br> -Swift joy that lifted life to an ecstasy,<br> -That shining day I danced for you, dear, in the woods!</p> - -<p>The purple twilight came, and the amber moon . . .<br> - -And the fairies danced with me . . .<br> -And the shy fauns crept from the tangled thicket near,<br> - -And the startled dryads bent,<br> -White and starry-eyed, each from her secret tree,<br> -To watch that mystical dance, to share that heavenly swoon<br> - -That mad, bright banishment. . . .<br> -For we were free in the perfect country, dear,<br> -When purple twilight came and the amber moon . . .</p> - -<p>Some day I shall dance again that mystical dance . . .<br> - -I know not when or where!<br> -But the angels shall dance with me, and I shall not be afraid.<br> - -I shall look in their deep eyes . . .<br> -And feel their arms about me, and their kisses in my hair,<br> -And know that time is over, and the desperate ways of chance. . . .<br> - -I shall be very wise,<br> -And glad at last, and the walls of the world shall fade . . .<br> -The day when I dance again that mystical dance.</p> - -<br> -<a name="19"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Prisoner of God</p> - -<p>Once long and long ago I knew delight.<br> -God gave my spirit wings and a glad voice.<br> -I was a bird that sang at dawn and noon,<br> -That sang at starry evening time and night;<br> -Sang at the sun's great golden doors, and furled<br> -Brave wings in the white gardens of the moon;<br> -That sang and soared beyond the dusty world.</p> - -<p>Once long and long ago I did rejoice,<br> -But now I am a stone that falls and falls.<br> -A prisoner, cursing the blank prison walls,<br> -Helpless and dumb, with desperate eyes, that see<br> -The terrible beauty of those simple things<br> -My soul disdained when she was proud and free.<br> -And I can only pray: God pity me,<br> -God pity me and give me back my voice!<br> -God pity me and give me back my wings!</p> - -<br> -<a name="20"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Storm</p> - -<p>What do they hunt to-night, the hounds of the wind?<br> -I think it is joy they hunt, for joy has fled from my heart.<br> -I only remember the hours when I sorrowed or sinned,<br> -I only remember the hours when I stood apart<br> -Lonely and tired, in difficult dreams entranced,<br> -And I forget the days when I loved, and laughed, and danced.</p> - -<p>Grey hounds of the wind, I hear your wistful cry,<br> -The cry of unsatisfied hearts hungry for happiness<br> -The house is full of whispering ghosts as you hurry by,<br> -And my soul is heavy and dark with a great distress,<br> -For heaven is far away, and hope is dead;<br> -And the night is a tomb of tears, and despair, and dread.</p> - -<p>O hunt no more wild hounds of the wind and rain,<br> -For my soul is afraid of the sound of your hurrying feet,<br> -And surely under the stars a beautiful joy is slain?<br> -Fly! black wings of sorrow . . . wet wings of the night that beat<br> -At the shuttered windows, swiftly fly away,<br> -Before God stoops to gather the golden flower of day.</p> - -<br> -<a name="21"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>St. Anthony</p> - -<p>THE ENGRAVING BY DRER</p> - -<p>Drer has drawn him resting by the way . . .<br> -Has he returned from some far pilgrimage?<br> -Or just come out into the light of day<br> -From a dark hermit's cell? We cannot know . . .<br> -With stooping shoulders, and with head bent low<br> -Over his bookand pointed hood drawn down.<br> -His eager eyes devour the printed page . . .<br> -Regardless of the little lovely town<br> -Rising behind him, with its clustered towers . . .<br> -O Saint, look up! and see how gay and fair<br> -The earth is in its summer-time of flowers,<br> -Look up, and see the world, for God is there . . .<br> -Old dreaming Saint, how many are like you,<br> -Intent upon the dusty book of fate:<br> -Slow to discern the false things from the true!<br> -Yet weary of world clamour and world hate,<br> -And hungering for eternal certainties . . .<br> -Not knowing how close about them heaven lies!</p> - -<br> -<a name="22"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Black Butterflies</p> - -<p>O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies!<br> -Wild words of all the wayward songs I sing . . .<br> -Called from the tomb of some enchanted past<br> -By that strange sphinx, my soul, they slowly rise<br> -And settle on white pages wing to wing . . .<br> -White pages like flower-petals fluttering<br> -Held spellbound there till some blind hour shall bring<br> -The perfect voice that, delicate and wise,<br> -Shall set them free in fairyland at last!<br> -That garden of all dreams and ecstasies<br> -Where my soul sings through an eternal spring,<br> -Watching alone with enigmatic eyes,<br> -Dark wings on pale flower-petals quivering . . .<br> -O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies!</p> - -<br> -<a name="23"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>In Praise of Youth</p> - -<p>O delicate youth, thy praises shall be sung<br> -While yet my heart is young . . .<br> -While Life and I, in search of lovely things,<br> -Go out with dancing feet and dreaming eyes,<br> -And find wild Folly, with her rainbow wings,<br> -Sweeter than all the wisdom of the wise.</p> - -<p>O delicate Youth, thy praises shall be sung<br> -While yet my heart is young . . .<br> -Thy whiteness, and thy brightness, and the sweet<br> -Flushed softness of thy little restless feet . . .<br> -The tossed and sunny tangle of thy hair,<br> -Thy swiftness, slimness, shyness, simpleness,<br> -That set the old folk sighing for the rare<br> -Red rose of Joy thy careless days possess.</p> - -<p>. . . And when at last, with sad, indifferent face,<br> -I walk in narrow pathways patiently;<br> -Forgetful of thy beauty, and thy truth,<br> -Thy ringing laughter, thy rebellious grace . . .<br> -When fair Love turns his face away from me . . .<br> -Then, let me die, O delicate sweet Youth!</p> - -<br> -<a name="24"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Opal Song</p> - -<p>Shy and wild . . . shy and wild<br> -To my lovers I have been.<br> -Frank and wayward as a child,<br> -Strange and secret as a queen;<br> -Fain of love, and love beguiled,<br> -Yet afraid of love, I ween!</p> - -<p>False and true . . . false and true<br> -Is the woman's heart in me . . .<br> -Fair lost faces that I rue,<br> -Golden friends I laugh to see,<br> -Changing, I come back to you,<br> -Never doubt my loyalty!</p> - -<br> -<a name="25"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Gifts</p> - -<p>Come near! you are my friend and I will wear<br> -Gems for your sake, and flowers in my hair;<br> -Garments of silver gauze, and cloth of gold . . .<br> -And I will give you power to have and hold,<br> -And passion, and delight and ecstasy.<br> -What will you give to me?</p> - -<p>And I will give you, if you will but stay,<br> -The magic mirror of the dawn, where day<br> -Waking, beholds the wonder of her face<br> -If you will keep me yet in your embrace,<br> -And let me dream of Love's eternity.<br> -What will you give to me?</p> - -<p>Yes! I will give you the gold veils of light,<br> -And the dark spangled curtains of the night . . .<br> -And I will give you as a flower unfurled,<br> -The proud and marvellous beauty of the world,<br> -And all the wild, white horses of the sea.<br> -What will you give to me? . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="26"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Primrose Hill</p> - -<p>Wild heart in me that frets and grieves,<br> -Imprisoned here against your will . . .<br> -Sad heart that dreams of rainbow wings<br> -See! I have found some golden things!<br> -The poplar trees on Primrose Hill<br> -With all their shining play of leaves . . .<br> -And London like a silver bride,<br> -That will not put her veil aside!</p> - -<p>Proud London like a painted Queen,<br> -Whose crown is heavy on her head . . .<br> -City of sorrow and desire,<br> -Under a sky of opal fire,<br> -Amber and amethyst and red . . .<br> -And how divine the day has been!<br> -For every dawn God builds again<br> -This world of beauty and of pain . . .</p> - -<p>Wild heart that hungers for delight,<br> -Imprisoned here against your will;<br> -Sad heart, so eager to be gay!<br> -Loving earth's lovely things . . . the play<br> -Of wind and leaves on Primrose Hill . . .<br> -Or London dreaming of the night . . .<br> -Adventurous heart, on beauty bent,<br> -That only Heaven could quite content!</p> - -<br> -<a name="27"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>A Morning Song</p> - -<p>You saw my window open wide,<br> - -And woke me early, sister day!<br> -You came in all your lovely pride,<br> -With laughing looks that I adore,<br> - -With wings of blue and grey . . .<br> -With sunshine skirts that swept the floor,<br> -With songs to drive night's dreams away,<br> - -You called me out to play.<br> -And so I took you by the hand,<br> -And found the way to fairyland . . .<br> -With such impatient feet I climb<br> - -The ladders of delight!<br> -For well I know that ruthless time<br> - -Turns morning moods to tears and night.</p> - -<br> -<a name="28"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Wings of Fortune</p> - -<p>Fair fortune you are wild and coy,<br> -Fickle, mysterious, and shy . . .<br> -And so we lost you, Love and I!<br> -And now, at last, because we find<br> -Your golden footprints, Love the boy,<br> -Dreams you are near . . . but Love is blind!<br> -Yet, surely Sorrow's arms unwind<br> -From this tired heart, and dark distress<br> -Fades softly . . . softly from the world:<br> -And in Hope's silver sky unfurled,<br> -I see the banners of delight!<br> -And the grey heaven of life grows bright<br> -With the red dawn of happiness . . .<br> -As with a laughing look Love flings<br> -His heavy crown of thorns away . . .<br> -Fair fortune, you are wild and coy,<br> -And ah! I fear you will not stay.<br> -But Love has caught you by the wings<br> -And radiant as Eurydice<br> -By her brave poet's song set free,<br> -I rush into the arms of joy!</p> - -<br> -<a name="29"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Shadow-Nets</p> - -<p>When I was wandering on the Downs to-day<br> -I saw the pine-woods sleeping in the sun . . .<br> -For they were tired of weaving shadow-nets<br> -Weaving all day in vain . . . in vain . . . in vain . . .<br> -Pale phantom nets to snare the golden sun!<br> -And then I thought of how the poets weave<br> -With shadowy words their cunning nets of song,<br> -Hoping to catch, at last, a shining dream!</p> - -<br> -<a name="30"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Peacocks. A Mood</p> - -<p>In Gorgeous plumage, azure, gold and green,<br> -They trample the pale flowers, and their shrill cry<br> -Troubles the garden's bright tranquillity!<br> -Proud birds of Beauty, splendid and serene,<br> -Spreading their brilliant fans, screen after screen<br> -Of burnished sapphire, gemmed with mimic suns<br> -Strange magic eyes, that, so the legend runs,<br> -Will bring misfortune to this fair demesne . . .</p> - -<p>And my gay youth, that, vain and debonair,<br> -Sits in the sunshinetired at last of play<br> -(A child, that finds the morning all too long),<br> -Tempts with its beauty that disastrous day<br> -When in the gathering darkness of despair<br> -Death shall strike dumb the laughing mouth of song.</p> - -<br> -<a name="31"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Hyacinthus</p> - -<p>Fair boy, how gay the morning must have seemed<br> -Before the fatal game that murdered thee!<br> -Of such a dawn my wistful heart has dreamed:<br> -Surely I too have lived in Arcady<br> -When Spring, lap-full of roses, ran to meet<br> -White Aphrodite risen from the sea . . .</p> - -<p>Perchance I saw thee then, so glad and fleet;<br> -Hasten to greet Apollo, stoop to bind<br> -The gold and jewelled sandals on his feet,<br> -While he so radiant, so divinely kind,<br> -Lured thee with honeyed words to be his friend,<br> -All heedless of thy fate, for Love is blind.</p> - -<p>For Love is blind and cruel, and the end<br> -Of every joy is sorrow and distress.<br> -And when immortal creatures lightly bend<br> -To kiss the lips of simple loveliness,<br> -Swords are unsheathed in silence, and clouds rise,<br> -Some God is jealous of the mute caress . . .</p> - -<p>But who shall mourn thy deathah, not the wise?<br> -Better to perish in thy happiest hour,<br> -To close in sight of beauty thy dark eyes,<br> -And, dying so, be changed into a flower,<br> -Than that the stealthy and relentless years<br> -Should steal that grace which was thy only dower.</p> - -<p>And bring thee in return dull cares and tears,<br> -And difficult days and sickness and despair . . .<br> -O, not for thee the griefs and sordid fears<br> -That, like a burden, trembling age must bear;<br> -Slain in thy youth, by the sweet hands of Love,<br> -Thou shalt remain for ever young and fair . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="32"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Hylas</p> - -<p>Dark boy, how radiantly you went to meet<br> -Your mystic doom . . . what colours in the sky!<br> -As though that cup of beauty the gods hold<br> -Brimmed over on a world in ecstasy . . .<br> -What silver flutes charmed all the forest ways . . .<br> -How the green shimmered, jewelled thick with flowers,<br> -And how the sun was like a globe of gold . . .<br> -Yet you but thought to chase the perfect hours<br> -Down that white road of wonder and delight,<br> -The highway of your dreams, and heedlessly<br> -You crushed the violets with your slim brown feet,<br> -And whistled low, and sang a careless song . . .<br> -Because your life was full of lovely days,<br> -Because your life was delicate and sweet . . .<br> -O youth and dawn . . . you dreamed not of the night . . .<br> -O life and laughter . . . but the night is long . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="33"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Blue Flowers</p> - -<p>I go to gather in the woods for you<br> -The wild flowers that are blue . . .<br> -Petals to match the colour of your eyes!</p> -<p>None but blue blossoms will I take, yet see<br> -How sweetly tempting me<br> -The fruit trees swing their scented treasuries.</p> - -<p>And how the buttercups and daisies dance<br> -To meet my dazzled glance!<br> -But gold and silver, Sweet, are naught to you.</p> -<p>And so let others rob God's gardens . . . shake<br> -The stars down for your sake<br> -I bring you but the wild flowers that are blue!</p> - -<br> -<a name="34"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Madrigal</p> - -<p>Rare garden where my heart goes gathering<br> -Many a lovely and delightful thing,<br> -Pale roses of your body and the fair<br> -Unrivalled yellow blossoms of your hair!</p> - -<p>Tall lilies of your gay and careless grace,<br> -And O the wistful flower of your face!<br> -And all the soft and starry mysteries<br> -Of those divine forget-me-nots, your eyes . . .</p> - -<p>O come, fair Love, before the flowers fade,<br> -And bless this garden that the gods have made . . . <br> -Rare garden where my heart goes gathering<br> -Many a lovely and delightful thing . . .</p> - -<br> -<a name="35"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Endymion</p> - -<p>Your hair was like a honey-coloured flame<br> -Seen through a veil of silver when you came<br> -And took me in your arms that winter night . . .<br> -The moonlight, amorous of your golden hair,<br> -Toyed with it softly, as a woman might<br> -With some bright treasure, delicate and rare.</p> - -<p>O, young Endymion, risen from the dead,<br> -Born once again to beauty, O bright head!<br> -The moon stoops low to kiss you, as of old;<br> -Stoops graciously from her great throne of pearl,<br> -With outstretched arms mysterious and cold . . .<br> -But you have left her for a mortal girl.</p> - -<br> -<a name="36"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>Dance Song</p> - -<p>O hide your passion from the moon.<br> -When young and slender she appears<br> -In shining gown and silver shoon . . .<br> -And, all her path with stars impearled,<br> -She dances round the darkened world.</p> - -<p>O hide your sorrows from the sun . . .<br> -The sun should never see your tears!<br> -Weep, if you will, when day is done . . .<br> -But laugh and sing and clap your hands<br> -While yet the sun in heaven stands.</p> - -<br> -<a name="37"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>A Memory</p> - -<p>O how I loved you when we met<br> -For that one moment of the day!<br> -Yes, loved you desperately, and yet<br> -Could scarcely find a word to say<br> -No wonder that you looked and smiled<br> -As though upon some timid child.<br> -You never guessed, how could you guess<br> -That I adored your loveliness!</p> - -<p>You never saw the prisoned soul<br> -Behind the windows of my eyes,<br> -Frantic to break from fate's control<br> -And charm you with her flatteries . . .<br> -And show you, your cold heart to move,<br> -The shining treasure of her love,<br> -And worship in a long embrace,<br> -The reckless beauty of your face!</p> - -<p>You never knew . . . and the dream died<br> -A broken rose beneath your feet . . .<br> -You went your way . . . the world is wide<br> -And I forgot, for youth is sweet . . .<br> -Yet when at night I lie awake,<br> -My heart is sad for a dream's sake,<br> -And I remember and regret . . .<br> -O how I loved you when we met!</p> - -<br> -<a name="38"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Photograph</p> - -<p>O Beauty, what is this?<br> -A shadow of your face . . .<br> -Where is the wild flower grace<br> -That Love is wont to kiss?</p> - -<p>Where is the bird that brings<br> -To your untroubled eyes<br> -The blue of fairy skies,<br> -The flash of fairy wings? . . .</p> - -<p>O wild bird of delight,<br> -That no white hand may hold,<br> -Or fairest cage of gold . . .<br> -For who would stay its flight?</p> - -<p>The song-bird of your voice<br> -Whose magic song Love hears,<br> -Trembling behind your tears,<br> -Trilling when you rejoice . . .</p> - -<p>O Beauty, what is this?<br> -The shadow of a rose . . .<br> -A little ghost that goes<br> -Oblivious of Love's kiss.</p> - -<p>Only a shadow . . . yet<br> -It may, in some dark hour<br> -Recall the living flower . . .<br> -If haply Love forget.</p> - -<br> -<a name="39"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>St. Sebastian</p> - -<p>So beautiful in all thine agony!<br> -So radiant in thine infinite despair . . .<br> -Oh, delicate mouth, brave eyes, and curled bright hair . . .<br> -Oh, lovely body lashed to the rough tree:<br> -What brutal fools were those that gave to thee<br> -Red roses of thine outraged blood to wear,<br> -Laughed at thy bitter pain and loathed the fair<br> -Bruised flower of thy victorious purity?</p> - -<p>Marvellous Beauty . . . target of the world,<br> -How all Love's arrows seek thy joy, Oh Sweet!<br> -And wound the white perfection of thy youth!<br> -How all the poisoned spears of hate are hurled<br> -Against thy sorrow when thou darest to meet<br> -With martyrdom men's mockery of the truth!</p> - -<br> -<a name="40"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<p>The Magic Mirrors</p> - -<p>In the dim mirrors of imagination,<br> -I watch the silent dancing of my soul . . .<br> -I watch her as she dances with my dreams . . .<br> -See how she takes innumerable disguises,<br> -And hides her beauty behind many masks,<br> -And how, sometimes, she seems to laugh and sing,<br> -. . . And weep . . . and call upon the unknown Gods . . .<br> -But not one mirror has betrayed her voice,<br> -Or shown to me the secret of her face . . .<br> -O silent dance of sorrow and delight,<br> -My heart grown tired with watching, turns away,<br> -To make perhaps a little passionate song<br> -Out of the shadows of immortal things . . .</p> - -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inn of Dreams, by Olive Custance - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INN OF DREAMS *** - -***** This file should be named 22736-h.htm or 22736-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/3/22736/ - -Produced by Ruth Hart - -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. 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Sweet Delight!<br/> +My heart is like a lighted Inn that waits<br/> +Your swift approach . . . and at the open gates<br/> +White Beauty stands and listens like a flower.<br/> +She has been dreaming of you in the night,<br/> +O fairy Princes; and her eyes are bright.<br/> +Spur your fleet horses, this is Beauty’s hour!<br/> +Even as when a golden flame up-curled<br/> +Quivers and flickers out in a dark place,<br/> +So is it with the flame of Beauty’s face—<br/> +That torch! that rose! that wonder of the world!<br/> +And Love shall weep to see—when he rides by<br/> +Years hence (the time shall seem as a bird’s flight)—<br/> +A lonely Inn beneath a winter sky.<br/> +Come now, sweet friends! before the summer die.<br/> + Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="3"></a>The Kingdom of Heaven</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +O World that holds me by the wings,<br/> + How shall my soul escape your snares?<br/> +So dear are your delightful things,<br/> + So difficult your toils and cares:<br/> +That, every way my soul is held<br/> + By bonds of love, and bonds of hate;<br/> +With all its heavenly ardours quelled,<br/> + And all its angels desolate . . .<br/> +<br/> +Yet in the heart of every child,<br/> +God and the world are reconciled! . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="4"></a>A Dream</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +I dreamed we walked together, you and I,<br/> +Along a white and lonely road, that went<br/> +I know not where . . . and we were well content.<br/> +Our laughter was untroubled as the sky,<br/> +And all our talk was delicate and shy,<br/> +Though in that cage of words wild thoughts were pent<br/> +Like prisoned birds that some sweet accident<br/> +Might yet release to sing again, and fly.<br/> +We passed between long lines of poplar trees . . .<br/> +Where, summer comrades gay and debonair,<br/> +The south wind and the sunlight danced . . . you smiled,<br/> +With great glad eyes, as bright as summer seas,<br/> +To feel their twinkling fingers in your hair . .<br/> +And then you kissed me, quickly, like a child! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="5"></a>The Autumn Day</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +How delicately steps the autumn day<br/> +In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey<br/> +Over the level country that I love!<br/> +<br/> +With glittering veils of light about her head<br/> +And skirts of wide horizons round her spread<br/> +White as the white wing-feathers of a dove.<br/> +<br/> +Her feet, a flash of silver on the sea,<br/> +Chase silver sails that fly untiringly<br/> +Towards the enchanted Islands of the West.<br/> +<br/> +Beautiful Islands, gardens of delight!<br/> +That flower at dawn with roses red and white . . .<br/> +And flame at sunset gold and amethyst . . .<br/> +<br/> +How delicately steps the autumn day<br/> +In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey<br/> +Over the level country that I love . . .<br/> +<br/> +And how my heart that all sweet things beguile<br/> +Goes laughing with her for a little while . . .<br/> +And then turns homeward like a weary dove. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="6"></a>Angels</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +When life is difficult, I dream<br/> +Of how the angels dance in heaven!<br/> +Of how the angels dance and sing<br/> +In gardens of eternal spring,<br/> +Because their sins have been forgiven . . .<br/> +And never more for them shall be<br/> +The terrors of mortality!<br/> +When life is difficult, I dream<br/> +Of how the angels dance in heaven . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="7"></a>The Changeling</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +My father was a golden king,<br/> + My mother was a shining queen;<br/> +I heard the magic blue-bird sing . . .<br/> + They wrapped me in a mantle green.<br/> +<br/> +They led their winged white horses out,<br/> + We rode and rode till dawn was grey;<br/> +We rode with many a song and shout,<br/> + “Over the hills and far away.”<br/> +<br/> +They stole the crying human child,<br/> + And left me laughing by the fire;<br/> +And that is why my heart is wild,<br/> + And all my life a long desire . . .<br/> +<br/> +The old enchantments hold me still . . .<br/> + And sometimes in a waking trance<br/> +I seek again the Fairy Hill,<br/> + The midnight feast, the glittering dance!<br/> +<br/> +The wizard harpers play for me,<br/> + I wear a crown upon my head,<br/> +A princess in eternity,<br/> + I dance and revel with the dead . . .<br/> +<br/> +“Vain lies!” I hear the people cry,<br/> + I listen to their weary truth;<br/> +Then turn again to fantasy,<br/> + And the untroubled Land of Youth.<br/> +<br/> +I hear the laughter of the kings,<br/> + I see their jewelled flagons gleam . . .<br/> +O wine of Life! . . . immortal things<br/> + Move in the splendour of my dream . . .<br/> +<br/> +My spirit is a homing dove . . .<br/> + I drain a crystal cup, and fall<br/> +Softly into the arms of Love . . .<br/> + And then the darkness covers all. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="8"></a>A Song Against Care</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> + O Care!<br/> +Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne,<br/> +Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies<br/> +(For seldom—seldom art thou stained and torn,<br/> +Showing a tattered lining, and the bare<br/> +Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair<br/> +To look at, O thou garment of our pride!<br/> +A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise;<br/> +He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . .<br/> +And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . .<br/> +And after . . . when men know the agony<br/> +Of thy great weight of splendour, and would shake<br/> +Thee swiftly from their shoulders, cast aside<br/> +The burden of thy jewelled bands that break<br/> +Their very hearts . . . often it is too late.<br/> +They fear the world will mock them and deride<br/> +When they are stripped of all their golden state.<br/> +But some are brave . . . but some among us dare<br/> +Cry out against thy torment and be free!<br/> +And I would rather a gay beggar be,<br/> +And go in rags for all eternity,<br/> +Than that thy clanking pomp should cover me,<br/> + O Care! . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="9"></a>“Quelque part une Enfance très douce doit mourir”</h2> + +<p class="right"> + Albert Samian +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Alas! I do not know on what sad day<br/> +My childhood went away . . .<br/> +It may have left me softly in the night<br/> + When I was sleeping—dreaming—who can tell?<br/> +Perhaps it whispered “wings were made for flight!”<br/> + I only know it never said “farewell” . . .<br/> +<br/> +And so I cannot tell when youth will go<br/> +Although I love it so . . .<br/> +But like a little amorous girl that clings<br/> + To some fair boy, my spirit all afraid,<br/> +While yet she holds youth back by the bright wings,<br/> + Knows he must leave her for some other maid! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="10"></a>Candle-Light</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath,<br/> +Flickering points of honey-coloured flame,<br/> +From sunset gardens of the moon you came,<br/> +Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death . . .<br/> +<br/> +Blossoms of opal fire that raised on high<br/> +Upon a hundred silver stems are seen<br/> +Above the brilliant dance, or set between<br/> +The brimming wine-cups . . . flowers of revelry!<br/> +<br/> +Roses with amber petals that arise<br/> +Out of the purple darkness of the night<br/> +To deck the darkened house of Love, to light<br/> +The laughing lips, the beautiful glad eyes.<br/> +<br/> +Lilies with violet-coloured hearts that break<br/> +In shining clusters round the silent dead,<br/> +A diadem of stars at feet and head,<br/> +The glory dazzles . . . but they do not wake . . .<br/> +<br/> +O golden flowers the moon goes gathering<br/> +In magic gardens of her fairy-land,<br/> +While splendid angels of the sunset stand<br/> +Watching in flaming circles wing to wing . . .<br/> +<br/> +Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath,<br/> +That wither in the hands of light, and die<br/> +When bright dawn wakens in a silver sky.<br/> +Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="11"></a>In the South</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees<br/> +That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads,<br/> +And are grave and cold and grey in spite of the sun . . .<br/> +In the veils of rose and blue that the bright dawn spun<br/> +Day wrapped me round in vain!<br/> +I longed for the lovers and friends I had left behind,<br/> +I longed for the North again.<br/> +<br/> +I was deaf to song, and even to beauty blind,<br/> +Blind to the magic woof that summer weaves,<br/> +While roses beat their pearl and ruby leaves<br/> +Against my window pane . . .<br/> +And orange flowers so passionately white,<br/> +So richly perfumed, pined for my delight:<br/> +Only my faint heart sighed,<br/> +In pity when the glory waned and died,<br/> +For all that lovely life unsatisfied!<br/> +<br/> +I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees<br/> +That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="12"></a>Spring in the South</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Beautiful as some rich embroidery<br/> +The valley lies in verdant amplitude,<br/> +Great mountains—like old merchants—o’er it brood—<br/> +And as a lovely woman languidly<br/> +Trailing her long blue robes, so comes the sea<br/> +To touch it softly in a wistful mood . . .<br/> +The sky forgets her starry multitude,<br/> +Seeing how fair mere earthly flowers can be!<br/> +<br/> +Glad country where the wayward feet of Spring,<br/> +Moving in mystic dances, bring desire,<br/> +New miracles of beauty every day . . .<br/> +Where Love and sweet Delight fly wing to wing<br/> +Forgetful as in dreams, that bright as fire<br/> +So burn the hours of joy as swift away! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="13"></a>“I am Weary, let me Sleep”</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +I am weary, let me sleep<br/> +In some great embroidered bed,<br/> +With soft pillows for my head.<br/> +I am weary, let me sleep . . .<br/> +Petals of sweet roses shed<br/> +All around a perfumed heap<br/> +White as pearls, and ruby red;<br/> +Curtains closely drawn to keep<br/> +Wings of darkness o’er me spread . . .<br/> +I am weary, let me sleep<br/> +In some great embroidered bed.<br/> +Let me dream that I am dead,<br/> +Nevermore to wake and weep<br/> +In the future that I dread . . .<br/> +For the ways of life are steep . . .<br/> +I am weary, let me sleep . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="14"></a>Grief</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +I, that was once so eager for the light,<br/> +The vehement pomp and passion of the day,<br/> +Am tired at last, and glad to steal away<br/> +Across the dusky borders of the night.<br/> +The purple darkness now is my delight,<br/> +And with great stars my lonely sorrows play,<br/> +As still, some proud and tragic princess may<br/> +With diamonds make her desolation bright.<br/> +<br/> +Night has become a temple for my tears . . .<br/> +The moon a silver shroud for my despair,<br/> +And all the golden forests of the spheres<br/> +Have showered their splendours on me leaf by leaf<br/> +Till men that meet me in the sunlight, stare<br/> +To see the shining garment of my grief! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="15"></a>Daffodil Dawn</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +While I slept, and dreamed of you,<br/> +Morning, like a princess, came,<br/> +All in robe of palest blue:<br/> +Stooped and gathered in that hour<br/> +From the east a golden flower,<br/> +Great and shining flower of flame . . .<br/> +Then she hastened on her way<br/> +Singing over plain and hill—<br/> +While I slept and dreamed of you<br/> +Dreams that never can come true . .<br/> +Morning at the gates of Day,<br/> +Gathered Dawn, the daffodil! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="16"></a>Beauty</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +I saw the face of Beauty—a pale rose<br/> +In the gold dusk of her abundant hair . . .<br/> +A silken web of dreams and joys—a snare . .<br/> +A net of pleasures in a world of woes,<br/> +A bright temptation for gay youth that goes<br/> +Laughing upon his way without a care!<br/> +A shield of light for conquering Love to bear<br/> +Stronger than all the swords of all his foes.<br/> +<br/> +O face of Beauty—O white dawn enshrined<br/> +In sunrise veils of splendid hair—O star!<br/> +Shine on those weary men who sadly wise<br/> +But guess thy glory faintly from afar—<br/> +Missing the marvel of thy smile—and blind<br/> +To the imperial passion in thine eyes! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="17"></a>The Vision</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +I come from lonely downs and silent woods,<br/> +With winter in my heart, a withered world,<br/> +A heavy weight of dark and sorrowful things,<br/> +And all my dreams spread out their rainbow wings,<br/> +And turn again to those bright solitudes<br/> +Where Beauty met me in a thousand moods,<br/> +And all her shining banners were unfurled . . .<br/> +And where I snatched from the sweet hands of Spring<br/> +A crystal cup and drank a mystic wine,<br/> +And walked alone a secret perfumed way,<br/> +And saw the glittering Angels at their play.<br/> +And heard the golden birds of Heaven sing,<br/> +And woke . . . to find white lilies clustering<br/> +And all the emerald wood an empty shrine,<br/> +Fragrant with myrrh and frankincense and spice,<br/> +And echoing yet the flutes of Paradise . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="18"></a>The Dance</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Do you remember that day I danced in the woods,<br/> + Under the dancing leaves?<br/> +Do you remember the delicate blue of the sky<br/> + And the gold-dust in the air?<br/> +And the tawny harvest fields, and the heavy sheaves?<br/> +Summer was surely in one of her bravest moods . . .<br/> + And oh, the rare<br/> +Swift joy that lifted life to an ecstasy,<br/> +That shining day I danced for you, dear, in the woods!<br/> +<br/> +The purple twilight came, and the amber moon . . .<br/> + And the fairies danced with me . . .<br/> +And the shy fauns crept from the tangled thicket near,<br/> + And the startled dryads bent,<br/> +White and starry-eyed, each from her secret tree,<br/> +To watch that mystical dance, to share that heavenly swoon<br/> + That mad, bright banishment. . . .<br/> +For we were free in the perfect country, dear,<br/> +When purple twilight came and the amber moon . . .<br/> +<br/> +Some day I shall dance again that mystical dance . . .<br/> + I know not when or where!<br/> +But the angels shall dance with me, and I shall not be afraid.<br/> + I shall look in their deep eyes . . .<br/> +And feel their arms about me, and their kisses in my hair,<br/> +And know that time is over, and the desperate ways of chance. . . .<br/> + I shall be very wise,<br/> +And glad at last, and the walls of the world shall fade . . .<br/> +The day when I dance again that mystical dance. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="19"></a>The Prisoner of God</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Once long and long ago I knew delight.<br/> +God gave my spirit wings and a glad voice.<br/> +I was a bird that sang at dawn and noon,<br/> +That sang at starry evening time and night;<br/> +Sang at the sun’s great golden doors, and furled<br/> +Brave wings in the white gardens of the moon;<br/> +That sang and soared beyond the dusty world.<br/> +<br/> +Once long and long ago I did rejoice,<br/> +But now I am a stone that falls and falls.<br/> +A prisoner, cursing the blank prison walls,<br/> +Helpless and dumb, with desperate eyes, that see<br/> +The terrible beauty of those simple things<br/> +My soul disdained when she was proud and free.<br/> +And I can only pray: God pity me,<br/> +God pity me and give me back my voice!<br/> +God pity me and give me back my wings! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="20"></a>The Storm</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +What do they hunt to-night, the hounds of the wind?<br/> +I think it is joy they hunt, for joy has fled from my heart.<br/> +I only remember the hours when I sorrowed or sinned,<br/> +I only remember the hours when I stood apart<br/> +Lonely and tired, in difficult dreams entranced,<br/> +And I forget the days when I loved, and laughed, and danced.<br/> +<br/> +Grey hounds of the wind, I hear your wistful cry,<br/> +The cry of unsatisfied hearts hungry for happiness<br/> +The house is full of whispering ghosts as you hurry by,<br/> +And my soul is heavy and dark with a great distress,<br/> +For heaven is far away, and hope is dead;<br/> +And the night is a tomb of tears, and despair, and dread.<br/> +<br/> +O hunt no more wild hounds of the wind and rain,<br/> +For my soul is afraid of the sound of your hurrying feet,<br/> +And surely under the stars a beautiful joy is slain?<br/> +Fly! black wings of sorrow . . . wet wings of the night that beat<br/> +At the shuttered windows, swiftly fly away,<br/> +Before God stoops to gather the golden flower of day. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="21"></a>St. Anthony</h2> + +<p class="center"> +THE ENGRAVING BY DÜRER +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Dürer has drawn him resting by the way . . .<br/> +Has he returned from some far pilgrimage?<br/> +Or just come out into the light of day<br/> +From a dark hermit’s cell? We cannot know . . .<br/> +With stooping shoulders, and with head bent low<br/> +Over his book—and pointed hood drawn down.<br/> +His eager eyes devour the printed page . . .<br/> +Regardless of the little lovely town<br/> +Rising behind him, with its clustered towers . . .<br/> +O Saint, look up! and see how gay and fair<br/> +The earth is in its summer-time of flowers,<br/> +Look up, and see the world, for God is there . . .<br/> +Old dreaming Saint, how many are like you,<br/> +Intent upon the dusty book of fate:<br/> +Slow to discern the false things from the true!<br/> +Yet weary of world clamour and world hate,<br/> +And hungering for eternal certainties . . .<br/> +Not knowing how close about them heaven lies! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="22"></a>Black Butterflies</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies!<br/> +Wild words of all the wayward songs I sing . . .<br/> +Called from the tomb of some enchanted past<br/> +By that strange sphinx, my soul, they slowly rise<br/> +And settle on white pages wing to wing . . .<br/> +White pages like flower-petals fluttering<br/> +Held spellbound there till some blind hour shall bring<br/> +The perfect voice that, delicate and wise,<br/> +Shall set them free in fairyland at last!<br/> +That garden of all dreams and ecstasies<br/> +Where my soul sings through an eternal spring,<br/> +Watching alone with enigmatic eyes,<br/> +Dark wings on pale flower-petals quivering . . .<br/> +O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="23"></a>In Praise of Youth</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +O delicate youth, thy praises shall be sung<br/> +While yet my heart is young . . .<br/> +While Life and I, in search of lovely things,<br/> +Go out with dancing feet and dreaming eyes,<br/> +And find wild Folly, with her rainbow wings,<br/> +Sweeter than all the wisdom of the wise.<br/> +<br/> +O delicate Youth, thy praises shall be sung<br/> +While yet my heart is young . . .<br/> +Thy whiteness, and thy brightness, and the sweet<br/> +Flushed softness of thy little restless feet . . .<br/> +The tossed and sunny tangle of thy hair,<br/> +Thy swiftness, slimness, shyness, simpleness,<br/> +That set the old folk sighing for the rare<br/> +Red rose of Joy thy careless days possess.<br/> +<br/> +. . . And when at last, with sad, indifferent face,<br/> +I walk in narrow pathways patiently;<br/> +Forgetful of thy beauty, and thy truth,<br/> +Thy ringing laughter, thy rebellious grace . . .<br/> +When fair Love turns his face away from me . . .<br/> +Then, let me die, O delicate sweet Youth! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="24"></a>Opal Song</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Shy and wild . . . shy and wild<br/> +To my lovers I have been.<br/> +Frank and wayward as a child,<br/> +Strange and secret as a queen;<br/> +Fain of love, and love beguiled,<br/> +Yet afraid of love, I ween!<br/> +<br/> +False and true . . . false and true<br/> +Is the woman’s heart in me . . .<br/> +Fair lost faces that I rue,<br/> +Golden friends I laugh to see,<br/> +Changing, I come back to you,<br/> +Never doubt my loyalty!<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="25"></a>Gifts</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Come near! you are my friend and I will wear<br/> +Gems for your sake, and flowers in my hair;<br/> +Garments of silver gauze, and cloth of gold . . .<br/> +And I will give you power to have and hold,<br/> +And passion, and delight and ecstasy.<br/> +What will you give to me?<br/> +<br/> +And I will give you, if you will but stay,<br/> +The magic mirror of the dawn, where day<br/> +Waking, beholds the wonder of her face—<br/> +If you will keep me yet in your embrace,<br/> +And let me dream of Love’s eternity.<br/> +What will you give to me?<br/> +<br/> +Yes! I will give you the gold veils of light,<br/> +And the dark spangled curtains of the night . . .<br/> +And I will give you as a flower unfurled,<br/> +The proud and marvellous beauty of the world,<br/> +And all the wild, white horses of the sea.<br/> +What will you give to me? . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="26"></a>Primrose Hill</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Wild heart in me that frets and grieves,<br/> +Imprisoned here against your will . . .<br/> +Sad heart that dreams of rainbow wings<br/> +See! I have found some golden things!<br/> +The poplar trees on Primrose Hill<br/> +With all their shining play of leaves . . .<br/> +And London like a silver bride,<br/> +That will not put her veil aside!<br/> +<br/> +Proud London like a painted Queen,<br/> +Whose crown is heavy on her head . . .<br/> +City of sorrow and desire,<br/> +Under a sky of opal fire,<br/> +Amber and amethyst and red . . .<br/> +And how divine the day has been!<br/> +For every dawn God builds again<br/> +This world of beauty and of pain . . .<br/> +<br/> +Wild heart that hungers for delight,<br/> +Imprisoned here against your will;<br/> +Sad heart, so eager to be gay!<br/> +Loving earth’s lovely things . . . the play<br/> +Of wind and leaves on Primrose Hill . . .<br/> +Or London dreaming of the night . . .<br/> +Adventurous heart, on beauty bent,<br/> +That only Heaven could quite content! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="27"></a>A Morning Song</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +You saw my window open wide,<br/> + And woke me early, sister day!<br/> +You came in all your lovely pride,<br/> +With laughing looks that I adore,<br/> + With wings of blue and grey . . .<br/> +With sunshine skirts that swept the floor,<br/> +With songs to drive night’s dreams away,<br/> + You called me out to play.<br/> +And so I took you by the hand,<br/> +And found the way to fairyland . . .<br/> +With such impatient feet I climb<br/> + The ladders of delight!<br/> +For well I know that ruthless time<br/> + Turns morning moods to tears and night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="28"></a>The Wings of Fortune</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Fair fortune you are wild and coy,<br/> +Fickle, mysterious, and shy . . .<br/> +And so we lost you, Love and I!<br/> +And now, at last, because we find<br/> +Your golden footprints, Love the boy,<br/> +Dreams you are near . . . but Love is blind!<br/> +Yet, surely Sorrow’s arms unwind<br/> +From this tired heart, and dark distress<br/> +Fades softly . . . softly from the world:<br/> +And in Hope’s silver sky unfurled,<br/> +I see the banners of delight!<br/> +And the grey heaven of life grows bright<br/> +With the red dawn of happiness . . .<br/> +As with a laughing look Love flings<br/> +His heavy crown of thorns away . . .<br/> +Fair fortune, you are wild and coy,<br/> +And ah! I fear you will not stay.<br/> +But Love has caught you by the wings<br/> +And radiant as Eurydice<br/> +By her brave poet’s song set free,<br/> +I rush into the arms of joy! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="29"></a>Shadow-Nets</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +When I was wandering on the Downs to-day<br/> +I saw the pine-woods sleeping in the sun . . .<br/> +For they were tired of weaving shadow-nets—<br/> +Weaving all day in vain . . . in vain . . . in vain . . .<br/> +Pale phantom nets to snare the golden sun!<br/> +And then I thought of how the poets weave<br/> +With shadowy words their cunning nets of song,<br/> +Hoping to catch, at last, a shining dream! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="30"></a>Peacocks. A Mood</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +In Gorgeous plumage, azure, gold and green,<br/> +They trample the pale flowers, and their shrill cry<br/> +Troubles the garden’s bright tranquillity!<br/> +Proud birds of Beauty, splendid and serene,<br/> +Spreading their brilliant fans, screen after screen<br/> +Of burnished sapphire, gemmed with mimic suns—<br/> +Strange magic eyes, that, so the legend runs,<br/> +Will bring misfortune to this fair demesne . . .<br/> +<br/> +And my gay youth, that, vain and debonair,<br/> +Sits in the sunshine—tired at last of play<br/> +(A child, that finds the morning all too long),<br/> +Tempts with its beauty that disastrous day<br/> +When in the gathering darkness of despair<br/> +Death shall strike dumb the laughing mouth of song. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="31"></a>Hyacinthus</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Fair boy, how gay the morning must have seemed<br/> +Before the fatal game that murdered thee!<br/> +Of such a dawn my wistful heart has dreamed:<br/> +Surely I too have lived in Arcady<br/> +When Spring, lap-full of roses, ran to meet<br/> +White Aphrodite risen from the sea . . .<br/> +<br/> +Perchance I saw thee then, so glad and fleet;<br/> +Hasten to greet Apollo, stoop to bind<br/> +The gold and jewelled sandals on his feet,<br/> +While he so radiant, so divinely kind,<br/> +Lured thee with honeyed words to be his friend,<br/> +All heedless of thy fate, for Love is blind.<br/> +<br/> +For Love is blind and cruel, and the end<br/> +Of every joy is sorrow and distress.<br/> +And when immortal creatures lightly bend<br/> +To kiss the lips of simple loveliness,<br/> +Swords are unsheathed in silence, and clouds rise,<br/> +Some God is jealous of the mute caress . . .<br/> +<br/> +But who shall mourn thy death—ah, not the wise?<br/> +Better to perish in thy happiest hour,<br/> +To close in sight of beauty thy dark eyes,<br/> +And, dying so, be changed into a flower,<br/> +Than that the stealthy and relentless years<br/> +Should steal that grace which was thy only dower.<br/> +<br/> +And bring thee in return dull cares and tears,<br/> +And difficult days and sickness and despair . . .<br/> +O, not for thee the griefs and sordid fears<br/> +That, like a burden, trembling age must bear;<br/> +Slain in thy youth, by the sweet hands of Love,<br/> +Thou shalt remain for ever young and fair . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="32"></a>Hylas</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Dark boy, how radiantly you went to meet<br/> +Your mystic doom . . . what colours in the sky!<br/> +As though that cup of beauty the gods hold<br/> +Brimmed over on a world in ecstasy . . .<br/> +What silver flutes charmed all the forest ways . . .<br/> +How the green shimmered, jewelled thick with flowers,<br/> +And how the sun was like a globe of gold . . .<br/> +Yet you but thought to chase the perfect hours<br/> +Down that white road of wonder and delight,<br/> +The highway of your dreams, and heedlessly<br/> +You crushed the violets with your slim brown feet,<br/> +And whistled low, and sang a careless song . . .<br/> +Because your life was full of lovely days,<br/> +Because your life was delicate and sweet . . .<br/> +O youth and dawn . . . you dreamed not of the night . . .<br/> +O life and laughter . . . but the night is long . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="33"></a>Blue Flowers</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +I go to gather in the woods for you<br/> +The wild flowers that are blue . . .<br/> +Petals to match the colour of your eyes!<br/> +<br/> +None but blue blossoms will I take, yet see<br/> +How sweetly tempting me<br/> +The fruit trees swing their scented treasuries.<br/> +<br/> +And how the buttercups and daisies dance<br/> +To meet my dazzled glance!<br/> +But gold and silver, Sweet, are naught to you.<br/> +<br/> +And so let others rob God’s gardens . . . shake<br/> +The stars down for your sake—<br/> +I bring you but the wild flowers that are blue! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="34"></a>Madrigal</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Rare garden where my heart goes gathering<br/> +Many a lovely and delightful thing,<br/> +Pale roses of your body and the fair<br/> +Unrivalled yellow blossoms of your hair!<br/> +<br/> +Tall lilies of your gay and careless grace,<br/> +And O the wistful flower of your face!<br/> +And all the soft and starry mysteries<br/> +Of those divine forget-me-nots, your eyes . . .<br/> +<br/> +O come, fair Love, before the flowers fade,<br/> +And bless this garden that the gods have made . . .<br/> +Rare garden where my heart goes gathering<br/> +Many a lovely and delightful thing . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="35"></a>Endymion</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Your hair was like a honey-coloured flame<br/> +Seen through a veil of silver when you came<br/> +And took me in your arms that winter night . . .<br/> +The moonlight, amorous of your golden hair,<br/> +Toyed with it softly, as a woman might<br/> +With some bright treasure, delicate and rare.<br/> +<br/> +O, young Endymion, risen from the dead,<br/> +Born once again to beauty, O bright head!<br/> +The moon stoops low to kiss you, as of old;<br/> +Stoops graciously from her great throne of pearl,<br/> +With outstretched arms mysterious and cold . . .<br/> +But you have left her for a mortal girl. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="36"></a>Dance Song</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +O hide your passion from the moon.<br/> +When young and slender she appears<br/> +In shining gown and silver shoon . . .<br/> +And, all her path with stars impearled,<br/> +She dances round the darkened world.<br/> +<br/> +O hide your sorrows from the sun . . .<br/> +The sun should never see your tears!<br/> +Weep, if you will, when day is done . . .<br/> +But laugh and sing and clap your hands<br/> +While yet the sun in heaven stands. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="37"></a>A Memory</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +O how I loved you when we met<br/> +For that one moment of the day!<br/> +Yes, loved you desperately, and yet<br/> +Could scarcely find a word to say—<br/> +No wonder that you looked and smiled<br/> +As though upon some timid child.<br/> +You never guessed, how could you guess<br/> +That I adored your loveliness!<br/> +<br/> +You never saw the prisoned soul<br/> +Behind the windows of my eyes,<br/> +Frantic to break from fate’s control<br/> +And charm you with her flatteries . . .<br/> +And show you, your cold heart to move,<br/> +The shining treasure of her love,<br/> +And worship in a long embrace,<br/> +The reckless beauty of your face!<br/> +<br/> +You never knew . . . and the dream died<br/> +A broken rose beneath your feet . . .<br/> +You went your way . . . the world is wide<br/> +And I forgot, for youth is sweet . . .<br/> +Yet when at night I lie awake,<br/> +My heart is sad for a dream’s sake,<br/> +And I remember and regret . . .<br/> +O how I loved you when we met! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="38"></a>The Photograph</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +O Beauty, what is this?<br/> +A shadow of your face . . .<br/> +Where is the wild flower grace<br/> +That Love is wont to kiss?<br/> +<br/> +Where is the bird that brings<br/> +To your untroubled eyes<br/> +The blue of fairy skies,<br/> +The flash of fairy wings? . . .<br/> +<br/> +O wild bird of delight,<br/> +That no white hand may hold,<br/> +Or fairest cage of gold . . .<br/> +For who would stay its flight?<br/> +<br/> +The song-bird of your voice<br/> +Whose magic song Love hears,<br/> +Trembling behind your tears,<br/> +Trilling when you rejoice . . .<br/> +<br/> +O Beauty, what is this?<br/> +The shadow of a rose . . .<br/> +A little ghost that goes<br/> +Oblivious of Love’s kiss.<br/> +<br/> +Only a shadow . . . yet<br/> +It may, in some dark hour<br/> +Recall the living flower . . .<br/> +If haply Love forget. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="39"></a>St. Sebastian</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +So beautiful in all thine agony!<br/> +So radiant in thine infinite despair . . .<br/> +Oh, delicate mouth, brave eyes, and curled bright hair . . .<br/> +Oh, lovely body lashed to the rough tree:<br/> +What brutal fools were those that gave to thee<br/> +Red roses of thine outraged blood to wear,<br/> +Laughed at thy bitter pain and loathed the fair<br/> +Bruised flower of thy victorious purity?<br/> +<br/> +Marvellous Beauty . . . target of the world,<br/> +How all Love’s arrows seek thy joy, Oh Sweet!<br/> +And wound the white perfection of thy youth!<br/> +How all the poisoned spears of hate are hurled<br/> +Against thy sorrow when thou darest to meet<br/> +With martyrdom men’s mockery of the truth! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="40"></a>The Magic Mirrors</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +In the dim mirrors of imagination,<br/> +I watch the silent dancing of my soul . . .<br/> +I watch her as she dances with my dreams . . .<br/> +See how she takes innumerable disguises,<br/> +And hides her beauty behind many masks,<br/> +And how, sometimes, she seems to laugh and sing,<br/> +. . . And weep . . . and call upon the unknown Gods . . .<br/> +But not one mirror has betrayed her voice,<br/> +Or shown to me the secret of her face . . .<br/> +O silent dance of sorrow and delight,<br/> +My heart grown tired with watching, turns away,<br/> +To make perhaps a little passionate song<br/> +Out of the shadows of immortal things . . . +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 22736 ***</div> </body> diff --git a/22736.txt b/22736.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3ba8f54..0000000 --- a/22736.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1472 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inn of Dreams, by Olive Custance - -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: The Inn of Dreams - -Author: Olive Custance - -Release Date: September 23, 2007 [EBook #22736] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INN OF DREAMS *** - - - - -Produced by Ruth Hart - - - - - - -THE INN OF DREAMS - -BY - -OLIVE CUSTANCE -(LADY AFRED DOUGLAS) - - - -LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD -NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY, MCMXI - -WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES - - - - - -DEDICATION - -J'ECRIS POUR QUE LE JOUR OU JE NE SERAI PLUS - -J'ecris pour que le jour ou je ne serai plus -On sache comme l'air et le plaisir m'ont plu, -Et que mon livre porte a la foule future -Comme j'aimais la vie et l'heureuse nature. - -Attentive aux travaux des champs et des maisons -J'ai marque chaque jour la forme des saisons, -Parce que l'eau, la terre et la montante flamme -En nul endroit ne sont si belles qu'en mon ame. - -J'ai dit ce que j'ai vu et ce que j'ai senti, -D'un coeur pour qui le vrai ne fut point trop hardi, -Et j'ai eu cette ardeur, par l'amour intimee, -Pour etre apres la mort parfois encore aimee, - -Et qu'un jeune homme alors lisant ce que j'ecris, -Sentant par moi son coeur, emu, trouble, surpris, -Ayant tout oublie des epouses reelles, -M'accueille dans son ame et me prefere a elles. - - COMTESSE MATHIEU DE NOAILLES - - - -CONTENTS - -Dedication (Comtesse de Noailles) . . . v -The Inn of Dreams . . . 3 -The Kingdom of Heaven . . . 5 -A Dream . . . 6 -The Autumn Day . . . 8 -Angels . . . 10 -The Changeling . . . 11 -A Song Against Care . . . 14 -"Quelque part une Enfance tres douce et mourir" . . . 16 -Candle-Light . . . 18 -In the South . . . 20 -Spring in the South . . . 22 -"I am Weary, let me Sleep" . . . 24 -Grief . . . 26 -Daffodil Dawn . . . 28 -Beauty . . . 29 -The Vision . . . 31 -The Dance . . . 33 -The Prisoner of God . . . 36 -The Storm . . . 38 -St. Anthony . . . 41 -Black Butterflies . . . 43 -In Praise of Youth . . . 45 -Opal Song . . . 47 -Gifts . . . 48 -Primrose Hill . . . 50 -A Morning Song . . . 52 -The Wings of Fortune . . . 53 -Shadow-Nets . . . 55 -Peacocks. A Mood . . . 56 -Hyacinthus . . . 58 -Hylas . . . 61 -Blue Flowers . . . 63 -Madrigal . . . 64 -Endymion . . . 65 -Dance Song . . . 66 -A Memory . . . 67 -The Photograph . . . 69 -St. Sebastian . . . 71 -The Magic Mirrors . . . 73 - - - - - -The Inn of Dreams - - Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight! -My heart is like a lighted Inn that waits -Your swift approach . . . and at the open gates -White Beauty stands and listens like a flower. -She has been dreaming of you in the night, -O fairy Princes; and her eyes are bright. -Spur your fleet horses, this is Beauty's hour! -Even as when a golden flame up-curled -Quivers and flickers out in a dark place, -So is it with the flame of Beauty's face-- -That torch! that rose! that wonder of the world! -And Love shall weep to see--when he rides by -Years hence (the time shall seem as a bird's flight)-- -A lonely Inn beneath a winter sky. -Come now, sweet friends! before the summer die. - Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight! - - - - - -The Kingdom of Heaven - -O World that holds me by the wings, - How shall my soul escape your snares? -So dear are your delightful things, - So difficult your toils and cares: -That, every way my soul is held - By bonds of love, and bonds of hate; -With all its heavenly ardours quelled, - And all its angels desolate . . . - -Yet in the heart of every child, -God and the world are reconciled! . . . - - - - - -A Dream - -I dreamed we walked together, you and I, -Along a white and lonely road, that went -I know not where . . . and we were well content. -Our laughter was untroubled as the sky, -And all our talk was delicate and shy, -Though in that cage of words wild thoughts were pent -Like prisoned birds that some sweet accident -Might yet release to sing again, and fly. -We passed between long lines of poplar trees . . . -Where, summer comrades gay and debonair, -The south wind and the sunlight danced . . . you smiled, -With great glad eyes, as bright as summer seas, -To feel their twinkling fingers in your hair . . -And then you kissed me, quickly, like a child! - - - - - -The Autumn Day - -How delicately steps the autumn day -In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey -Over the level country that I love! - -With glittering veils of light about her head -And skirts of wide horizons round her spread -White as the white wing-feathers of a dove. - -Her feet, a flash of silver on the sea, -Chase silver sails that fly untiringly -Towards the enchanted Islands of the West. - -Beautiful Islands, gardens of delight! -That flower at dawn with roses red and white . . . -And flame at sunset gold and amethyst . . . - -How delicately steps the autumn day -In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey -Over the level country that I love . . . - -And how my heart that all sweet things beguile -Goes laughing with her for a little while . . . -And then turns homeward like a weary dove. - - - - - -Angels - -When life is difficult, I dream -Of how the angels dance in heaven! -Of how the angels dance and sing -In gardens of eternal spring, -Because their sins have been forgiven . . . -And never more for them shall be -The terrors of mortality! -When life is difficult, I dream -Of how the angels dance in heaven . . . - - - - - -The Changeling - -My father was a golden king, - My mother was a shining queen; -I heard the magic blue-bird sing . . . - They wrapped me in a mantle green. - -They led their winged white horses out, - We rode and rode till dawn was grey; -We rode with many a song and shout, - "Over the hills and far away." - -They stole the crying human child, - And left me laughing by the fire; -And that is why my heart is wild, - And all my life a long desire . . . - -The old enchantments hold me still . . . - And sometimes in a waking trance -I seek again the Fairy Hill, - The midnight feast, the glittering dance! - -The wizard harpers play for me, - I wear a crown upon my head, -A princess in eternity, - I dance and revel with the dead . . . - -"Vain lies!" I hear the people cry, - I listen to their weary truth; -Then turn again to fantasy, - And the untroubled Land of Youth. - -I hear the laughter of the kings, - I see their jewelled flagons gleam . . . -O wine of Life! . . . immortal things - Move in the splendour of my dream . . . - -My spirit is a homing dove . . . - I drain a crystal cup, and fall -Softly into the arms of Love . . . - And then the darkness covers all. - - - - - -A Song Against Care - - O Care! -Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne, -Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies -(For seldom--seldom art thou stained and torn, -Showing a tattered lining, and the bare -Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair -To look at, O thou garment of our pride! -A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise; -He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . . -And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . . -And after . . . when men know the agony -Of thy great weight of splendour, and would shake -Thee swiftly from their shoulders, cast aside -The burden of thy jewelled bands that break -Their very hearts . . . often it is too late. -They fear the world will mock them and deride -When they are stripped of all their golden state. -But some are brave . . . but some among us dare -Cry out against thy torment and be free! -And I would rather a gay beggar be, -And go in rags for all eternity, -Than that thy clanking pomp should cover me, - O Care! . . . - - - - - -"Quelque part une Enfance tres douce doit mourir" - Albert Samian - -Alas! I do not know on what sad day -My childhood went away . . . -It may have left me softly in the night - When I was sleeping--dreaming--who can tell? -Perhaps it whispered "wings were made for flight!" - I only know it never said "farewell" . . . - -And so I cannot tell when youth will go -Although I love it so . . . -But like a little amorous girl that clings - To some fair boy, my spirit all afraid, -While yet she holds youth back by the bright wings, - Knows he must leave her for some other maid! - - - - - -Candle-Light - -Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath, -Flickering points of honey-coloured flame, -From sunset gardens of the moon you came, -Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death . . . - -Blossoms of opal fire that raised on high -Upon a hundred silver stems are seen -Above the brilliant dance, or set between -The brimming wine-cups . . . flowers of revelry! - -Roses with amber petals that arise -Out of the purple darkness of the night -To deck the darkened house of Love, to light -The laughing lips, the beautiful glad eyes. - -Lilies with violet-coloured hearts that break -In shining clusters round the silent dead, -A diadem of stars at feet and head, -The glory dazzles . . . but they do not wake . . . - -O golden flowers the moon goes gathering -In magic gardens of her fairy-land, -While splendid angels of the sunset stand -Watching in flaming circles wing to wing . . . - -Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath, -That wither in the hands of light, and die -When bright dawn wakens in a silver sky. -Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death. - - - - - -In the South - -I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees -That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads, -And are grave and cold and grey in spite of the sun . . . -In the veils of rose and blue that the bright dawn spun -Day wrapped me round in vain! -I longed for the lovers and friends I had left behind, -I longed for the North again. - -I was deaf to song, and even to beauty blind, -Blind to the magic woof that summer weaves, -While roses beat their pearl and ruby leaves -Against my window pane . . . -And orange flowers so passionately white, -So richly perfumed, pined for my delight: -Only my faint heart sighed, -In pity when the glory waned and died, -For all that lovely life unsatisfied! - -I was pale and sad in the South like the olive-trees -That droop their silver heads by the dusty roads . . . - - - - - -Spring in the South - -Beautiful as some rich embroidery -The valley lies in verdant amplitude, -Great mountains--like old merchants--o'er it brood-- -And as a lovely woman languidly -Trailing her long blue robes, so comes the sea -To touch it softly in a wistful mood . . . -The sky forgets her starry multitude, -Seeing how fair mere earthly flowers can be! - -Glad country where the wayward feet of Spring, -Moving in mystic dances, bring desire, -New miracles of beauty every day . . . -Where Love and sweet Delight fly wing to wing -Forgetful as in dreams, that bright as fire -So burn the hours of joy as swift away! - - - - - -"I am Weary, let me Sleep" - -I am weary, let me sleep -In some great embroidered bed, -With soft pillows for my head. -I am weary, let me sleep . . . -Petals of sweet roses shed -All around a perfumed heap -White as pearls, and ruby red; -Curtains closely drawn to keep -Wings of darkness o'er me spread . . . -I am weary, let me sleep -In some great embroidered bed. -Let me dream that I am dead, -Nevermore to wake and weep -In the future that I dread . . . -For the ways of life are steep . . . -I am weary, let me sleep . . . - - - - - -Grief - -I, that was once so eager for the light, -The vehement pomp and passion of the day, -Am tired at last, and glad to steal away -Across the dusky borders of the night. -The purple darkness now is my delight, -And with great stars my lonely sorrows play, -As still, some proud and tragic princess may -With diamonds make her desolation bright. - -Night has become a temple for my tears . . . -The moon a silver shroud for my despair, -And all the golden forests of the spheres -Have showered their splendours on me leaf by leaf -Till men that meet me in the sunlight, stare -To see the shining garment of my grief! - - - - - -Daffodil Dawn - -While I slept, and dreamed of you, -Morning, like a princess, came, -All in robe of palest blue: -Stooped and gathered in that hour -From the east a golden flower, -Great and shining flower of flame . . . -Then she hastened on her way -Singing over plain and hill-- -While I slept and dreamed of you -Dreams that never can come true . . -Morning at the gates of Day, -Gathered Dawn, the daffodil! - - - - - -Beauty - -I saw the face of Beauty--a pale rose -In the gold dusk of her abundant hair . . . -A silken web of dreams and joys--a snare . . -A net of pleasures in a world of woes, -A bright temptation for gay youth that goes -Laughing upon his way without a care! -A shield of light for conquering Love to bear -Stronger than all the swords of all his foes. - -O face of Beauty--O white dawn enshrined -In sunrise veils of splendid hair--O star! -Shine on those weary men who sadly wise -But guess thy glory faintly from afar-- -Missing the marvel of thy smile--and blind -To the imperial passion in thine eyes! - - - - - -The Vision - -I come from lonely downs and silent woods, -With winter in my heart, a withered world, -A heavy weight of dark and sorrowful things, -And all my dreams spread out their rainbow wings, -And turn again to those bright solitudes -Where Beauty met me in a thousand moods, -And all her shining banners were unfurled . . . -And where I snatched from the sweet hands of Spring -A crystal cup and drank a mystic wine, -And walked alone a secret perfumed way, -And saw the glittering Angels at their play. -And heard the golden birds of Heaven sing, -And woke . . . to find white lilies clustering -And all the emerald wood an empty shrine, -Fragrant with myrrh and frankincense and spice, -And echoing yet the flutes of Paradise . . . - - - - - -The Dance - -Do you remember that day I danced in the woods, - Under the dancing leaves? -Do you remember the delicate blue of the sky - And the gold-dust in the air? -And the tawny harvest fields, and the heavy sheaves? -Summer was surely in one of her bravest moods . . . - And oh, the rare -Swift joy that lifted life to an ecstasy, -That shining day I danced for you, dear, in the woods! - -The purple twilight came, and the amber moon . . . - And the fairies danced with me . . . -And the shy fauns crept from the tangled thicket near, - And the startled dryads bent, -White and starry-eyed, each from her secret tree, -To watch that mystical dance, to share that heavenly swoon - That mad, bright banishment. . . . -For we were free in the perfect country, dear, -When purple twilight came and the amber moon . . . - -Some day I shall dance again that mystical dance . . . - I know not when or where! -But the angels shall dance with me, and I shall not be afraid. - I shall look in their deep eyes . . . -And feel their arms about me, and their kisses in my hair, -And know that time is over, and the desperate ways of chance. . . . - I shall be very wise, -And glad at last, and the walls of the world shall fade . . . -The day when I dance again that mystical dance. - - - - - -The Prisoner of God - -Once long and long ago I knew delight. -God gave my spirit wings and a glad voice. -I was a bird that sang at dawn and noon, -That sang at starry evening time and night; -Sang at the sun's great golden doors, and furled -Brave wings in the white gardens of the moon; -That sang and soared beyond the dusty world. - -Once long and long ago I did rejoice, -But now I am a stone that falls and falls. -A prisoner, cursing the blank prison walls, -Helpless and dumb, with desperate eyes, that see -The terrible beauty of those simple things -My soul disdained when she was proud and free. -And I can only pray: God pity me, -God pity me and give me back my voice! -God pity me and give me back my wings! - - - - - -The Storm - -What do they hunt to-night, the hounds of the wind? -I think it is joy they hunt, for joy has fled from my heart. -I only remember the hours when I sorrowed or sinned, -I only remember the hours when I stood apart -Lonely and tired, in difficult dreams entranced, -And I forget the days when I loved, and laughed, and danced. - -Grey hounds of the wind, I hear your wistful cry, -The cry of unsatisfied hearts hungry for happiness -The house is full of whispering ghosts as you hurry by, -And my soul is heavy and dark with a great distress, -For heaven is far away, and hope is dead; -And the night is a tomb of tears, and despair, and dread. - -O hunt no more wild hounds of the wind and rain, -For my soul is afraid of the sound of your hurrying feet, -And surely under the stars a beautiful joy is slain? -Fly! black wings of sorrow . . . wet wings of the night that beat -At the shuttered windows, swiftly fly away, -Before God stoops to gather the golden flower of day. - - - - - -St. Anthony - -THE ENGRAVING BY DUeRER - -Duerer has drawn him resting by the way . . . -Has he returned from some far pilgrimage? -Or just come out into the light of day -From a dark hermit's cell? We cannot know . . . -With stooping shoulders, and with head bent low -Over his book--and pointed hood drawn down. -His eager eyes devour the printed page . . . -Regardless of the little lovely town -Rising behind him, with its clustered towers . . . -O Saint, look up! and see how gay and fair -The earth is in its summer-time of flowers, -Look up, and see the world, for God is there . . . -Old dreaming Saint, how many are like you, -Intent upon the dusty book of fate: -Slow to discern the false things from the true! -Yet weary of world clamour and world hate, -And hungering for eternal certainties . . . -Not knowing how close about them heaven lies! - - - - - -Black Butterflies - -O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies! -Wild words of all the wayward songs I sing . . . -Called from the tomb of some enchanted past -By that strange sphinx, my soul, they slowly rise -And settle on white pages wing to wing . . . -White pages like flower-petals fluttering -Held spellbound there till some blind hour shall bring -The perfect voice that, delicate and wise, -Shall set them free in fairyland at last! -That garden of all dreams and ecstasies -Where my soul sings through an eternal spring, -Watching alone with enigmatic eyes, -Dark wings on pale flower-petals quivering . . . -O words of all my songs . . . black butterflies! - - - - - -In Praise of Youth - -O delicate youth, thy praises shall be sung -While yet my heart is young . . . -While Life and I, in search of lovely things, -Go out with dancing feet and dreaming eyes, -And find wild Folly, with her rainbow wings, -Sweeter than all the wisdom of the wise. - -O delicate Youth, thy praises shall be sung -While yet my heart is young . . . -Thy whiteness, and thy brightness, and the sweet -Flushed softness of thy little restless feet . . . -The tossed and sunny tangle of thy hair, -Thy swiftness, slimness, shyness, simpleness, -That set the old folk sighing for the rare -Red rose of Joy thy careless days possess. - -. . . And when at last, with sad, indifferent face, -I walk in narrow pathways patiently; -Forgetful of thy beauty, and thy truth, -Thy ringing laughter, thy rebellious grace . . . -When fair Love turns his face away from me . . . -Then, let me die, O delicate sweet Youth! - - - - - -Opal Song - -Shy and wild . . . shy and wild -To my lovers I have been. -Frank and wayward as a child, -Strange and secret as a queen; -Fain of love, and love beguiled, -Yet afraid of love, I ween! - -False and true . . . false and true -Is the woman's heart in me . . . -Fair lost faces that I rue, -Golden friends I laugh to see, -Changing, I come back to you, -Never doubt my loyalty! - - - - - -Gifts - -Come near! you are my friend and I will wear -Gems for your sake, and flowers in my hair; -Garments of silver gauze, and cloth of gold . . . -And I will give you power to have and hold, -And passion, and delight and ecstasy. -What will you give to me? - -And I will give you, if you will but stay, -The magic mirror of the dawn, where day -Waking, beholds the wonder of her face-- -If you will keep me yet in your embrace, -And let me dream of Love's eternity. -What will you give to me? - -Yes! I will give you the gold veils of light, -And the dark spangled curtains of the night . . . -And I will give you as a flower unfurled, -The proud and marvellous beauty of the world, -And all the wild, white horses of the sea. -What will you give to me? . . . - - - - - -Primrose Hill - -Wild heart in me that frets and grieves, -Imprisoned here against your will . . . -Sad heart that dreams of rainbow wings -See! I have found some golden things! -The poplar trees on Primrose Hill -With all their shining play of leaves . . . -And London like a silver bride, -That will not put her veil aside! - -Proud London like a painted Queen, -Whose crown is heavy on her head . . . -City of sorrow and desire, -Under a sky of opal fire, -Amber and amethyst and red . . . -And how divine the day has been! -For every dawn God builds again -This world of beauty and of pain . . . - -Wild heart that hungers for delight, -Imprisoned here against your will; -Sad heart, so eager to be gay! -Loving earth's lovely things . . . the play -Of wind and leaves on Primrose Hill . . . -Or London dreaming of the night . . . -Adventurous heart, on beauty bent, -That only Heaven could quite content! - - - - - -A Morning Song - -You saw my window open wide, - And woke me early, sister day! -You came in all your lovely pride, -With laughing looks that I adore, - With wings of blue and grey . . . -With sunshine skirts that swept the floor, -With songs to drive night's dreams away, - You called me out to play. -And so I took you by the hand, -And found the way to fairyland . . . -With such impatient feet I climb - The ladders of delight! -For well I know that ruthless time - Turns morning moods to tears and night. - - - - - -The Wings of Fortune - -Fair fortune you are wild and coy, -Fickle, mysterious, and shy . . . -And so we lost you, Love and I! -And now, at last, because we find -Your golden footprints, Love the boy, -Dreams you are near . . . but Love is blind! -Yet, surely Sorrow's arms unwind -From this tired heart, and dark distress -Fades softly . . . softly from the world: -And in Hope's silver sky unfurled, -I see the banners of delight! -And the grey heaven of life grows bright -With the red dawn of happiness . . . -As with a laughing look Love flings -His heavy crown of thorns away . . . -Fair fortune, you are wild and coy, -And ah! I fear you will not stay. -But Love has caught you by the wings -And radiant as Eurydice -By her brave poet's song set free, -I rush into the arms of joy! - - - - - -Shadow-Nets - -When I was wandering on the Downs to-day -I saw the pine-woods sleeping in the sun . . . -For they were tired of weaving shadow-nets-- -Weaving all day in vain . . . in vain . . . in vain . . . -Pale phantom nets to snare the golden sun! -And then I thought of how the poets weave -With shadowy words their cunning nets of song, -Hoping to catch, at last, a shining dream! - - - - - -Peacocks. A Mood - -In Gorgeous plumage, azure, gold and green, -They trample the pale flowers, and their shrill cry -Troubles the garden's bright tranquillity! -Proud birds of Beauty, splendid and serene, -Spreading their brilliant fans, screen after screen -Of burnished sapphire, gemmed with mimic suns-- -Strange magic eyes, that, so the legend runs, -Will bring misfortune to this fair demesne . . . - -And my gay youth, that, vain and debonair, -Sits in the sunshine--tired at last of play -(A child, that finds the morning all too long), -Tempts with its beauty that disastrous day -When in the gathering darkness of despair -Death shall strike dumb the laughing mouth of song. - - - - - -Hyacinthus - -Fair boy, how gay the morning must have seemed -Before the fatal game that murdered thee! -Of such a dawn my wistful heart has dreamed: -Surely I too have lived in Arcady -When Spring, lap-full of roses, ran to meet -White Aphrodite risen from the sea . . . - -Perchance I saw thee then, so glad and fleet; -Hasten to greet Apollo, stoop to bind -The gold and jewelled sandals on his feet, -While he so radiant, so divinely kind, -Lured thee with honeyed words to be his friend, -All heedless of thy fate, for Love is blind. - -For Love is blind and cruel, and the end -Of every joy is sorrow and distress. -And when immortal creatures lightly bend -To kiss the lips of simple loveliness, -Swords are unsheathed in silence, and clouds rise, -Some God is jealous of the mute caress . . . - -But who shall mourn thy death--ah, not the wise? -Better to perish in thy happiest hour, -To close in sight of beauty thy dark eyes, -And, dying so, be changed into a flower, -Than that the stealthy and relentless years -Should steal that grace which was thy only dower. - -And bring thee in return dull cares and tears, -And difficult days and sickness and despair . . . -O, not for thee the griefs and sordid fears -That, like a burden, trembling age must bear; -Slain in thy youth, by the sweet hands of Love, -Thou shalt remain for ever young and fair . . . - - - - - -Hylas - -Dark boy, how radiantly you went to meet -Your mystic doom . . . what colours in the sky! -As though that cup of beauty the gods hold -Brimmed over on a world in ecstasy . . . -What silver flutes charmed all the forest ways . . . -How the green shimmered, jewelled thick with flowers, -And how the sun was like a globe of gold . . . -Yet you but thought to chase the perfect hours -Down that white road of wonder and delight, -The highway of your dreams, and heedlessly -You crushed the violets with your slim brown feet, -And whistled low, and sang a careless song . . . -Because your life was full of lovely days, -Because your life was delicate and sweet . . . -O youth and dawn . . . you dreamed not of the night . . . -O life and laughter . . . but the night is long . . . - - - - - -Blue Flowers - -I go to gather in the woods for you -The wild flowers that are blue . . . -Petals to match the colour of your eyes! - -None but blue blossoms will I take, yet see -How sweetly tempting me -The fruit trees swing their scented treasuries. - -And how the buttercups and daisies dance -To meet my dazzled glance! -But gold and silver, Sweet, are naught to you. - -And so let others rob God's gardens . . . shake -The stars down for your sake-- -I bring you but the wild flowers that are blue! - - - - - -Madrigal - -Rare garden where my heart goes gathering -Many a lovely and delightful thing, -Pale roses of your body and the fair -Unrivalled yellow blossoms of your hair! - -Tall lilies of your gay and careless grace, -And O the wistful flower of your face! -And all the soft and starry mysteries -Of those divine forget-me-nots, your eyes . . . - -O come, fair Love, before the flowers fade, -And bless this garden that the gods have made . . . -Rare garden where my heart goes gathering -Many a lovely and delightful thing . . . - - - - - -Endymion - -Your hair was like a honey-coloured flame -Seen through a veil of silver when you came -And took me in your arms that winter night . . . -The moonlight, amorous of your golden hair, -Toyed with it softly, as a woman might -With some bright treasure, delicate and rare. - -O, young Endymion, risen from the dead, -Born once again to beauty, O bright head! -The moon stoops low to kiss you, as of old; -Stoops graciously from her great throne of pearl, -With outstretched arms mysterious and cold . . . -But you have left her for a mortal girl. - - - - - -Dance Song - -O hide your passion from the moon. -When young and slender she appears -In shining gown and silver shoon . . . -And, all her path with stars impearled, -She dances round the darkened world. - -O hide your sorrows from the sun . . . -The sun should never see your tears! -Weep, if you will, when day is done . . . -But laugh and sing and clap your hands -While yet the sun in heaven stands. - - - - - -A Memory - -O how I loved you when we met -For that one moment of the day! -Yes, loved you desperately, and yet -Could scarcely find a word to say-- -No wonder that you looked and smiled -As though upon some timid child. -You never guessed, how could you guess -That I adored your loveliness! - -You never saw the prisoned soul -Behind the windows of my eyes, -Frantic to break from fate's control -And charm you with her flatteries . . . -And show you, your cold heart to move, -The shining treasure of her love, -And worship in a long embrace, -The reckless beauty of your face! - -You never knew . . . and the dream died -A broken rose beneath your feet . . . -You went your way . . . the world is wide -And I forgot, for youth is sweet . . . -Yet when at night I lie awake, -My heart is sad for a dream's sake, -And I remember and regret . . . -O how I loved you when we met! - - - - - -The Photograph - -O Beauty, what is this? -A shadow of your face . . . -Where is the wild flower grace -That Love is wont to kiss? - -Where is the bird that brings -To your untroubled eyes -The blue of fairy skies, -The flash of fairy wings? . . . - -O wild bird of delight, -That no white hand may hold, -Or fairest cage of gold . . . -For who would stay its flight? - -The song-bird of your voice -Whose magic song Love hears, -Trembling behind your tears, -Trilling when you rejoice . . . - -O Beauty, what is this? -The shadow of a rose . . . -A little ghost that goes -Oblivious of Love's kiss. - -Only a shadow . . . yet -It may, in some dark hour -Recall the living flower . . . -If haply Love forget. - - - - - -St. Sebastian - -So beautiful in all thine agony! -So radiant in thine infinite despair . . . -Oh, delicate mouth, brave eyes, and curled bright hair . . . -Oh, lovely body lashed to the rough tree: -What brutal fools were those that gave to thee -Red roses of thine outraged blood to wear, -Laughed at thy bitter pain and loathed the fair -Bruised flower of thy victorious purity? - -Marvellous Beauty . . . target of the world, -How all Love's arrows seek thy joy, Oh Sweet! -And wound the white perfection of thy youth! -How all the poisoned spears of hate are hurled -Against thy sorrow when thou darest to meet -With martyrdom men's mockery of the truth! - - - - - -The Magic Mirrors - -In the dim mirrors of imagination, -I watch the silent dancing of my soul . . . -I watch her as she dances with my dreams . . . -See how she takes innumerable disguises, -And hides her beauty behind many masks, -And how, sometimes, she seems to laugh and sing, -. . . And weep . . . and call upon the unknown Gods . . . -But not one mirror has betrayed her voice, -Or shown to me the secret of her face . . . -O silent dance of sorrow and delight, -My heart grown tired with watching, turns away, -To make perhaps a little passionate song -Out of the shadows of immortal things . . . - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inn of Dreams, by Olive Custance - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INN OF DREAMS *** - -***** This file should be named 22736.txt or 22736.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/3/22736/ - -Produced by Ruth Hart - -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. 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