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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36620 ***
+
+THE THREE HILLS
+
+AND OTHER POEMS
+
+BY
+
+J.C. SQUIRE
+
+
+LONDON: HOWARD LATIMER LTD.
+
+GREAT QUEEN STREET, KINGSWAY
+
+MCMXIII
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+FRANCIS BURROWS
+
+
+
+    CONTENTS
+
+    ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION
+    THE THREE HILLS
+    A CHANT
+    ARTEMIS ALTERA
+    STARLIGHT
+    FLORIAN 'S SONG
+    DIALOGUE
+    CREPUSCULAR
+    AT NIGHT
+    FOR MUSIC
+    THE ROOF
+    TREETOPS
+    IN THE PARK
+    SONG
+    TOWN
+    A MEMORIAL
+    FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND--I
+                        --II
+                        --III
+    LINES ON THE EARTHLY PARADISE
+    ECHOES
+    THE FUGITIVE
+    IN THE ORCHARD
+    IN A CHAIR
+    A DAY
+    THE MIND OF MAN
+    A REASONABLE PROTESTATION
+    EPILOGUE
+
+    TWELVE TRANSLATIONS FROM C. BAUDELAIRE
+
+    TOUT ENTIÈRE
+    THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF
+    SPLEEN
+    A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA
+    THE CRACKED BELL
+    THE OFFENDED MOON
+    TO THEODORE BANVILLE, 1842
+    MUSIC
+    THE CATS
+    THE SADNESS OF THE MOON
+    MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA
+    THE OWLS
+
+Many of the above poems have appeared in the "British Review," the
+"Eye-Witness," the "New Witness," the "Oxford and Cambridge Review," the
+"New Statesman," and the "New Age," to the Editors of which thanks are
+due for permission to reprint. Three of the short poems and most of the
+translations are extracted from an earlier volume.
+
+
+
+
+     ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION
+
+
+     As I stand waiting in the rain
+     For the foggy hoot of the London train,
+     Gazing at silent wall and lamp
+     And post and rail and platform damp,
+     What is this power that comes to my sight
+     That I see a night without the night,
+     That I see them clear, yet look them through,
+     The silvery things and the darkly blue,
+     That the solid wall seems soft as death,
+     A wavering and unanchored wraith,
+     And rails that shine and stones that stream
+     Unsubstantial as a dream?
+     What sudden door has opened so,
+     What hand has passed, that I should know
+     This moving vision not of trance
+     That melts the globe of circumstance,
+     This sight that marks not least or most
+     And makes a stone a passing ghost?
+
+     Is it that a year ago
+     I stood upon this self-same spot;
+     Is it that since a year ago
+     The place and I have altered not;
+     Is it that I half forgot,
+     A year ago, and all despised
+     For a space the things that I had prized:
+     The race of life, the glittering show?
+     Is it that now a year has passed
+     Of vain pursuit of glittering things,
+     Of fruitless searching, shouting, running,
+     And greedy lies and candour cunning,
+     Here as I stand the year above
+     Sudden the heats and the strivings fail
+     And fall away, a fluctuant veil,
+     And the fixed familiar stones restore
+     The old appearance-buried core,
+     The moveless and essential me,
+     The eternal personality
+     Alone enduring first and last?
+
+     No, this I have known in other ways,
+     In other places, other days.
+     Not only here, on this one peak,
+     Do fixity and beauty speak
+     Of the delusiveness of change,
+     Of the transparency of form,
+     The bootless stress of minds that range,
+     The awful calm behind the storm.
+     In many places, many days,
+     The invaded soul receives the rays
+     Of countries she was nurtured in,
+     Speaks in her silent language strange
+     To that beyond which is her kin.
+     Even in peopled streets at times
+     A metaphysic arm is thrust
+     Through the partitioning fabric thin,
+     And tears away the darkening pall
+     Cast by the bright phenomenal,
+     And clears the obscured spirit's mirror
+     From shadows of deceptive error,
+     And shows the bells and all their ringing,
+     And all the crowds and all their singing,
+     Carillons that are nothing's chimes
+     And dust that is not even dust....
+     But rarely hold I converse thus
+     Where shapes are bright and clamorous,
+     More often comes the word divine
+     In places motionless and far;
+     Beneath the white peculiar shine
+     Of sunless summer afternoons;
+     At eventide on pale lagoons
+     Where hangs reflected one pale star;
+     Or deep in the green solitudes
+     Of still erect entrancèd woods.
+
+     O, in the woods alone lying,
+     Scarce a bough in the wind sighing,
+     Gaze I long with fervid power
+     At leaf and branch and grass and flower,
+     Breathe I breaths of trembling sight
+     Shed from great urns of green delight,
+     Take I draughts and drink them up
+     Poured from many a stalk and cup.
+     Now do I burn for nothing more
+     Than thus to gaze, thus to adore
+     This exquisiteness of nature ever
+     In silence....
+
+                    But with instant light
+     Rends the film; with joy I quiver
+     To see with new celestial sight
+     Flower and leaf and grass and tree,
+     Doomed barks on an eternal sea,
+     Flit phantom-like as transient smoke.
+     Beauty herself her spell has broke,
+     Beauty, the herald and the lure,
+     Her message told, may not endure;
+     Her portal opened, she has died,
+     Supreme immortal suicide.
+     Yes, sleepless nature soundless flings
+     Invisible grapples round the soul,
+     Drawing her through the web of things
+     To the primal end of her journeyings,
+     Her ultimate and constant pole.
+
+     For Beauty with her hands that beckon
+       Is but the Prophet of a Higher,
+     A flaming and ephemeral beacon,
+       A Phoenix perishing by fire.
+     Herself from us herself estranges,
+       Herself her mighty tale doth kill,
+     That all things change yet nothing changes,
+       That all things move yet all are still.
+
+     I cannot sink, I cannot climb,
+       Now that I see my ancient dwelling,
+     The central orb untouched of time,
+       And taste a peace all bliss excelling.
+     Now I have broken Beauty's wall,
+       Now that my kindred world I hold,
+     I care not though the cities fall
+       And the green earth go cold.
+
+
+
+
+     THE THREE HILLS
+
+
+     There were three hills that stood alone
+       With woods about their feet.
+     They dreamed quiet when the sun shone
+       And whispered when the rain beat.
+
+     They wore all three their coronals
+       Till men with houses came
+     And scored their heads with pits and walls
+       And thought the hills were tame.
+
+     Red and white when day shines bright
+       They hide the green for miles,
+     Where are the old hills gone? At night
+       The moon looks down and smiles.
+
+     She sees the captors small and weak,
+       She knows the prisoners strong,
+     She hears the patient hills that speak:
+       "Brothers, it is not long;
+
+     "Brothers, we stood when they were not
+       Ten thousand summers past.
+     Brothers, when they are clean forgot
+       We shall outlive the last;
+
+     "One shall die and one shall flee
+       With terror in his train,
+     And earth shall eat the stones, and we
+       Shall be alone again."
+
+
+
+
+     A CHANT
+
+
+     Gently the petals fall as the tree gently sways
+       That has known many springs and many petals fall
+     Year after year to strew the green deserted ways
+       And the statue and the pond and the low, broken wall.
+
+     Faded is the memory of old things done,
+       Peace floats on the ruins of ancient festival;
+     They lie and forget in the warmth of the sun,
+       And a sky silver-blue arches over all.
+
+     O softly, O tenderly, the heart now stirs
+       With desires faint and formless; and, seeking not, I find
+     Quiet thoughts that flash like azure king-fishers
+       Across the luminous tranquil mirror of the mind.
+
+
+
+
+     ARTEMIS ALTERA
+
+
+     O full of candour and compassion,
+       Whom love and worship both would praise,
+     Love cannot frame nor worship fashion
+       The image of your fearless ways!
+
+     How show your noble brow's dark pallor,
+       Your chivalrous casque of ebon hair,
+     Your eyes' bright strength, your lips' soft valour,
+       Your supple shoulders and hands that dare?
+
+     Our souls when naïvely you examine,
+       Your sword of innocence, flaming, huge,
+     Sweeps over us, and there is famine
+       Within the ports of subterfuge.
+
+     You hate contempt and love not laughter;
+       With your sharp spear of virgin will
+     You harry the wicked strong; but after,
+       O huntress who could never kill,
+
+     Should they be trodden down or pierced,
+       Swift, swift, you fly with burning cheek
+     To place your beauty's shield reversed
+       Above the vile defenceless weak!
+
+
+
+
+     STARLIGHT
+
+
+     Last night I lay in an open field
+     And looked at the stars with lips sealed;
+     No noise moved the windless air,
+     And I looked at the stars with steady stare.
+
+     There were some that glittered and some that shone
+     With a soft and equal glow, and one
+     That queened it over the sprinkled round,
+     Swaying the host with silent sound.
+
+     "Calm things," I thought, "in your cavern blue,
+     I will learn and hold and master you;
+     I will yoke and scorn you as I can,
+     For the pride of my heart is the pride of a man."
+
+     Grass to my cheek in the dewy field
+     I lay quite still with lips sealed,
+     And the pride of a man and his rigid gaze
+     Stalked like swords on heaven's ways.
+
+     But through a sudden gate there stole
+     The Universe and spread in my soul;
+     Quick went my breath and quick my heart,
+     And I looked at the stars with lips apart.
+
+
+
+
+     FLORIAN'S SONG
+
+
+     My soul, it shall not take us,
+       O we will escape
+     This world that strives to break us
+       And cast us to its shape;
+     Its chisel shall not enter,
+       Its fire shall not touch,
+     Hard from rim to centre,
+       We will not crack or smutch.
+
+     'Gainst words sweet and flowered
+       We have an amulet,
+     We will not play the coward
+       For any black threat;
+     If we but give endurance
+       To what is now within--
+     The single assurance
+      That it is good to win.
+
+     Slaves think it better
+       To be weak than strong,
+     Whose hate is a fetter
+       And their love a thong.
+     But we will view those others
+       With eyes like stone,
+     And if we have no brothers
+       We will walk alone.
+
+
+
+
+     DIALOGUE
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     The dead man's gone, the live man's
+       sad, the dying leaf shakes on the tree,
+     The wind constrains the window panes and
+         moans like moaning of the sea,
+       And sour's the taste now culled in haste of
+         lovely things I won too late,
+     And loud and loud above the crowd the
+         Voice of One more strong than we.
+
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     This Voice you hear, this call you fear, is
+         it unprophesied or new?
+     Were you so insolent to think its rope would
+         never circle you?
+       Did you then beastlike live and walk with
+         ears and eyes that would not turn?
+     Who bade you hope your service 'scape in
+         that eternal retinue?
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     No; for I swear now bare's the tree and loud
+         the moaning of the wind,
+     I walked no rut with eyelids shut, my ears
+         and eyes were never blind,
+       Only my eager thoughts I bent on many
+         things that I desired
+     To make my greedy heart content ere flesh
+         and blood I left behind.
+
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     Ignorance, then, was all your fault and
+         filmèd eyes that could not know,
+     That half discerned and never learned the
+         temporal way that men must go;
+       You set the image of the world high for
+         your heart's idolatry,
+     Though with your lips you called the world
+         a toy, a ghost, a passing show.
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     No, no; this is not true; my lips spoke
+         only what my heart believed.
+     Called I the world a toy; I spoke not echo-like
+           or self-deceived.
+       But that I thought the toy was mine to play
+           with, and the passing show
+     Would sate at least my passing lusts, and did
+           not, therefore am I grieved.
+
+     What did I do that I must bear this lifelong
+           tyranny of my fate,
+     That I must writhe in bonds unsought of
+           accidental love and hate?
+       Had chance but joinèd different dice, but
+           once or twice, but once or twice,
+     All lovely things that I desired I should have
+           held before too late.
+
+     Surely I knew that flesh was grass nor valued
+           overmuch the prize,
+     But all the powers of chance conspired to
+           cheat a man both just and wise.
+       Happy I'd been had I but had my due
+           reward, and not a sword
+     Flaming in diabolic hand between me and
+           my Paradise.
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     No hooded band of fates did stand your
+           heart's ambitions to gainsay,
+     No flaming brand in evil hand was ever
+           thrust across your way,
+       Only the things all men must meet, the
+           common attributes of men,
+     That men may flinch to see or, seeing, deny,
+           but avoid them no man may.
+
+     Fall the dice, not once or twice but always, to
+           make the self-same sum;
+     Chance what may, a life's a life and to a
+           single goal must come;
+       Though a man search far and wide, never
+           is hunger satisfied;
+     Nature brings her natural fetters, man is
+           meshed and the wise are dumb.
+
+     O vain all art to assuage a heart with accents
+           of a mortal tongue,
+     All earthly words are incomplete and only
+           sweet are the songs unsung,
+       Never yet was cause for regret, yet regret
+           must afflict us all,
+     Better it were to grasp the world 'thwart
+           which this world is a curtain flung.
+
+
+
+
+     CREPUSCULAR
+
+
+     No creature stirs in the wide fields.
+       The rifted western heaven yields
+     The dying sun's illumination.
+     This is the hour of tribulation
+     When, with clear sight of eve engendered,
+     Day's homage to delusion rendered,
+       Mute at her window sits the soul.
+
+     Clouds and skies and lakes and seas,
+     Valleys and hills and grass and trees,
+     Sun, moon, and stars, all stand to her
+     Limbs of one lordless challenger,
+     Who, without deigning taunt or frown,
+     Throws a perennial gauntlet down:
+       "Come conquer me and take thy toll."
+
+     No cowardice or fear she knows,
+     But, as once more she girds, there grows
+     An unresignèd hopelessness
+     From memory of former stress.
+     Head bent, she muses whilst he waits:
+     How with such weapons dint his plates?
+     How quell this vast and sleepless giant
+     Calmly, immortally defiant,
+
+     How fell him, bind him, and control
+     With a silver cord and a golden bowl?
+
+
+
+
+     AT NIGHT
+
+
+     Dark firtops foot the moony sky,
+       Blue moonlight bars the drive;
+     Here at the open window I
+       Sit smoking and alive.
+
+     Wind in the branches swells and breaks
+       Like ocean on a beach;
+     Deep in the sky and my heart there wakes
+       A thought I cannot reach.
+
+
+
+
+     FOR MUSIC
+
+
+     Death in the cold grey morning
+       Came to the man where he lay;
+     And the wind shivered, and the tree shuddered
+       And the dawn was grey.
+
+     And the face of the man was grey in the dawn,
+       And the watchers by the bed
+     Knew, as they heard the shaking of the leaves,
+       That the man was dead.
+
+
+
+
+     THE ROOF
+
+
+     I
+
+     When the clouds hide the sun away
+       The tall slate roof is dull and grey,
+     And when the rain adown it streams
+     'Tis polished lead with pale-blue gleams.
+
+     When the clouds vanish and the rain
+     Stops, and the sun comes out again,
+     It shimmers golden in the sun
+     Almost too bright to look upon.
+
+     But soon beneath the steady rays
+     The roof is dried and reft of blaze,
+     'Tis dusty yellow traversed through
+     By long thin lines of deepest blue.
+
+     Then at the last, as night draws near,
+     The lines grow faint and disappear,
+     The roof becomes a purple mist
+     A great square darkening amethyst
+
+     Which sinks into the gathering shade
+     Till separate form and colour fade,
+     And it is but a patch which mars
+     The beauty of a field of stars.
+
+
+     II
+
+     It stands so lonely in the sky
+     The sparrows never come anigh,
+     The glossy starlings seldom stop
+     To preen and chatter on the top.
+
+     For a whole week sometimes up there
+     No wing-wave stirs the quiet air,
+     The roof lies silent and serene
+     As though no life had ever been;
+
+     Till some bright afternoon, athwart
+     The edge two sudden shadows dart,
+     And two white pigeons with pink feet
+     Flutter above and pitch on it.
+
+     Jerking their necks out as they walk
+     They talk awhile their pigeon-talk,
+     A low continuous murmur blent
+     Of mock reproaches and content.
+
+     Then cease, and sit there warm and white
+     An hour, till in the fading light
+     They wake, and know the close of day,
+     Flutter above, and fly away,
+
+     Leaving the roof whereon they sat
+     As 'twas before, a peaceful flat
+     Expanse, as silent and serene
+     As though no life had ever been.
+
+
+
+
+     TREETOPS
+
+
+     There beyond my window ledge,
+     Heaped against the sky a hedge
+     Of huge and wavering treetops stands
+     With multitudes of fluttering hands.
+
+     Wave they, beat they to and fro,
+     Never stillness may they know,
+     Plunged by the wind and hurled and torn
+     Anguished, purposeless, forlorn.
+
+     "O ferocious, O despairing,
+     In huddled isolation faring
+     Through a scattered universe,
+     Lost coins from the Almighty's purse!"
+
+     "No, below you do not see
+     The firm foundations of the tree;
+     Anchored to a rock beneath
+     We laugh in the hammering tempest's teeth."
+
+     "Boughs like men but burgeons are
+     On an adamantine star;
+     Men are myriad blossoms on
+     A staunch and cosmic skeleton."
+
+
+
+
+     IN THE PARK
+
+
+     This dense hard ground I tread
+     These iron bars that ripple past,
+     Will they unshaken stand when I am dead
+     And my deep thoughts outlast?
+
+     Is it my spirit slips,
+     Falls, like this leaf I kick aside;
+     This firmness that I feel about my lips,
+     Is it but empty pride?
+
+     Mute knowledge conquers me;
+     I contemplate them as they are,
+     Faint earth and shadowy bars that shake and flee,
+     Less hard, more transient far
+
+     Than those unbodied hues
+     The sunset flings on the calm river;
+     And, as I look, a swiftness thrills my shoes
+     And my hands with empire quiver.
+
+     Now light the ground I tread,
+     I walk not now but rather float;
+     Clear but unreal is the scene outspread,
+     Pitiful, thin, remote.
+
+     Poor vapour is the grass,
+     So frail the trees and railings seem,
+     That, did I sweep my hand around, 'twould pass
+     Through them, as in a dream.
+
+     Godlike I fear no changes;
+     Shatter the world with thunders loud,
+     Still would I ray-like flit about the ranges
+     Of dark and ruddy cloud.
+
+
+
+
+     SONG
+
+
+     There is a wood where the fairies dance
+     All night long in a ring of mushrooms daintily,
+     By each tree bole sits a squirrel or a mole,
+     And the moon through the branches darts.
+
+     Light on the grass their slim limbs glance,
+     Their shadows in the moonlight swing in quiet unison,
+     And the moon discovers that they all have lovers,
+     But they never break their hearts.
+
+     They never grieve at all for sands that run,
+     They never know regret for a deed that's done,
+     And they never think of going to a shed with a gun
+     At the rising of the sun.
+
+
+
+
+     TOWN
+
+
+     Mostly in a dull rotation
+       We bear our loads and eat and drink and sleep,
+     Feeling no tears, knowing no meditation--
+     Too tired to think, too clogged with earth to weep.
+
+     Dimly convinced, poor groping wretches,
+       Like eyeless insects in a murky pond
+     That out and out this city stretches,
+       Away, away, and there is no beyond.
+
+     No larger earth, no loftier heaven,
+       No cleaner, gentler airs to breathe. And yet,
+     Even to us sometimes is given
+       Visions of things we otherwhiles forget.
+
+     Some day is done, its labour ended,
+       And as we brood at windows high,
+     A steady wind from far descended,
+       Blows off the filth that hid the deeper sky;
+
+     There are the empty waiting spaces,
+       We watch, we watch, unwinking, pale and dumb,
+     Till gliding up with noiseless paces
+       Night sweeps o'er all the wide arch: Night has come.
+
+     Not that sick false night of the city,
+       Lurid and low and yellow and obscene,
+     But mother Night, pure, full of pity,
+       The star-strewn Night, blue, potent and serene.
+
+     O, as we gaze the clamour ceases,
+       The turbid world around grows dim and small,
+     The soft-shed influence releases
+       Our shrouded spirits from their dusty pall.
+
+     No more we hear the turbulent traffic,
+       Not scorned but unremembered is the day;
+     The Night, all luminous and seraphic,
+       Has brushed its heavy memories away.
+
+     The great blue Night so clear and kindly,
+       The little stars so wide-eyed and so still,
+     Open a door for souls that blindly
+       Had wandered, tunnelling the endless hill;
+
+     They draw the long-untraversed portal,
+       Our souls slip out and tremble and expand,
+     The immortal feels for the immortal,
+       The eternal holds the eternal by the hand.
+
+     Impalpably we are led and lifted,
+       Softly we shake into the gulf of blue,
+     The last environing veil is rifted
+       And lost horizons float into our view.
+
+     Lost lands, lone seas, lands that afar gleam
+       With a miraculous beauty, faint yet clear,
+     Forgotten lands of night and star-gleam,
+       Seas that are somewhere but that are not here.
+
+     Borne without effort or endeavour,
+       Swifter and more ethereal than the wind,
+     In level track we stream, whilst ever
+       The fair pale panorama rolls behind.
+
+     Now fleets below a trancèd moorland,
+       A sweep of glimmering immobility;
+     Now craggy cliff and dented foreland
+       Pass back and there beyond unfolds the sea.
+
+     Now wastes of water heaving, drawing,
+       Great darkling tracts of patterned restlessness,
+     With whitened waves round rough rocks mawing
+       And licking islands in their fierce caress.
+
+     Now coasts with capes and ribboned beaches
+       Set silent 'neath the canopy sapphirine,
+     And estuaries and river reaches
+       Phantasmal silver in the night's soft shine.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Ah, these fair woods the spirit crosses,
+       These quiet lakes, these stretched dreaming fields,
+     These undulate downs with piny bosses
+       Pointing the ridges of their sloping shields.
+
+     These valleys and these heights that screen them,
+       These tawnier sands where grass and tree are not,
+     Ah, we have known them, we have seen them
+       Long, long ago or ever we forgot;
+
+     We know them all, these placid countries,
+       And what the pathway is and what the goal;
+     These are the gates and these the sentries
+       That guard the ancient fortress of the soul.
+
+     And onward speed we flying, flying,
+       Over the sundering worlds of hill and plain
+     To where they rear their heads undying
+       The unnamed mountains of old days again.
+
+     The snows upon their calm still summits,
+       The chasms, the lines of trees that foot the snow,
+     Curving like inky frozen comets,
+       Into the forest-ocean spread below.
+
+     The glisten where the peaks are hoarest,
+       The soundless darkness of the sunken vales,
+     The folding leagues of shadowy forest,
+       Wave beyond wave till all distinctness fails.
+
+     So invulnerable it is, so deathless,
+       So floods the air the loveliness of it,
+     That we stay dazzled, rapt and breathless,
+       Our beings ebbing to the infinite.
+
+     There as we pause, there as we hover,
+       Moveless in ecstasy, a sudden light
+     Breaks in our eyes, and we discover
+       We sit at windows gazing to the night.
+
+     Wistful and tired, with eyes a-tingle
+       Where still the sting of Beauty faintly smarts,
+     But with our mute regrets there mingle
+       Thanks for the resurrection of our hearts.
+
+     O night so great that will not mock us!
+       O stars so wise that understand the weak!
+     O vast consoling hands that rock us!
+       O strong and perfect tongues that speak!
+
+     O night enrobed in azure splendour!
+       O whispering stars whose radiance falls like dew!
+     O mighty presences and tender,
+       You have given us back the dreams our childhood knew!
+
+     Lulled by your visions without number,
+       We seek our beds content and void of pain,
+     And dreaming drowse and dreaming slumber
+       And dreaming wake to see the day again.
+
+
+
+
+     A MEMORIAL
+
+     (F.T.)
+
+
+     The cord broke, and the tent
+     Slipped, and the silken roof
+     Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof
+     Of the deliberate firmament.
+     Yet cared we not; how should we care?
+     Knowing that labourless now he breathes
+     A golden paradisal air
+     Where with more certain craft he wreathes
+     Bright braids of words more wise and fair
+     Than ever his earthly fabrics were,
+     That his unwavering eyes made fresh,
+     Purged and regarbed in fadeless flesh,
+     What he then darkly guessed behold,
+     And watch with an abiding joy
+         The eternal mysteries unfold
+     Which do his now transfigured songs evermore employ.
+
+         Brother, yet great thy power;
+         Thou stood'st as on a tower
+     Small 'neath the stars yet high above the fields;
+         In thy alembic song
+         Imagination strong
+     Distilled what essences the quest to mortals yields.
+         This thy reward well-won,
+         For every morning's sun
+     Found thy heart's firm allegiance still unshaken;
+         No temporal ache or smart
+         Drave Beauty from thy heart,
+     And by thy mighty mistress never wast forsaken.
+
+         Yes; for though stringent was the test,
+         When that thy trial was bitterest,
+     Steadfast thou did'st remain; unshod
+     The harrows of Pain thy feet once trod,
+     Humiliate as thy sad song tells
+     Before the vault's white sentinels.
+     Friendless and faint thou sojourned'st there,
+     A bowed, brave, timid wanderer,
+     A lonely nomad of the spirit,
+     Who did a triple curse inherit,
+     Hunger, regret and memory.
+     Yet never did they vanquish thee;
+     When nighest broken, most alone,
+     Thy unassuagèd thoughts could clamber
+     To beauty on her ageless throne;
+     Thou wert as one in torture chamber
+     Who sees the blue through an open casement
+     And hammers his soul to endure the time
+     Of his corporeal abasement;
+     Nor writhed'st at thine or others' fault,
+         But with grim tenderness did salt
+         Thy cicatrices with a rhyme.
+         Not the most sable flame of gloom
+         Could penetrate thy inmost room;
+         But through the walls thy spirit sucked
+         Into that cloistral hermitage
+         Stray lovely things, moonbeams and snows
+         The far sky shed into thy cage,
+         And, from the very gutter plucked,
+         A lost and mired campestral rose.
+
+     Ended that purgatorial period,
+     Filled was thy wallet and thy feet were shod,
+     The leaden weights were moved, the rack withdrawn,
+     Thou didst traverse the dewy fields of dawn,
+     Watch sunsets blazoning over upland turf,
+     Pull poppies from the frontiers of the surf,
+         Dwelled'st with love and human eyes
+         Vigilant, calm and wise.
+         But still as when thy bark did ride
+         Derelict on the city's tide,
+         As then for penury now for pride
+         Thy bodily senses were denied;
+         Though they cried out and would not sleep,
+         Ascetic thou didst armour them
+     Lest acid pleasure should eat thine art's pure gem.
+         Hourly the tempter's ambuscades
+         But thou didst guard the gates and keep
+         Thy senses' hungry colonnades
+     Accessible but to Beauty's ministers,
+     Unlit by any ruby flame but hers.
+         Immuring so thy spirit eager
+         Within a body frail and meagre,
+     Far from the meads of earthly milk and honey,
+     Yet franchised of more wondrous territories,
+     Like those poor Bedouin of Arabia the Stony
+     Who roam spare-fed and hollow-eyed but free
+     By day to wander and by night to camp
+         In vast serenity,
+         Compassed by God's great silent glories
+     The sun's gold splendour and the moon's white lamp,
+         Folded and safe from harm
+     Beneath the mighty sky's protecting arm.
+
+         Ha! but the Titan's ardour
+         Wherewith thou scour'dst the vast,
+         To spoil the starry larder
+         Of fruits of heavenly taste!
+         Urania's fiercest servant,
+         With thirst as furnace fervent
+         And serene burning brow,
+         Worthy of thy great lineage, thou
+         Drankest without a shudder
+         In proud humility
+         Milk from that vast primæval udder
+         That swells for such as thee,
+     Milk from the fountains of the Universe
+     That cowards deem infected with a curse,
+         That flushes him who drinks
+           Nor shrinks
+     The exalted anguish of diurnal draughts
+     To a clear vision, more intolerable
+     In its blissful pain, than love's most ardent shafts,
+         Of the seats where she doth dwell,
+         She, whom thou didst confess
+           Enticed
+         Thee hot to her throne to press
+         For the greater glory of Christ
+     To uplift the curtains of her closed eyes.
+
+         Not all was for thy learning
+         Nor any mortal's else;
+         Only for thy discerning
+         Sporadic syllables
+         Of those supernal glances
+     Coffer of which her marble countenance is,
+         Yet vain was not the adventure,
+         Reluctant though the prize,
+         Thou gainedst a debenture
+         On the fringe of Beauty's eyes;
+         Such fragmentary trophy
+         As some cross-tunic'd knight
+         From Saladin or Sophy
+         May have won in sword's despite,
+         Not the dear polar shrines
+         Held captive by the Paynim
+         But still as fruit of wars
+         Some stone from Sion's lines,
+         Some relic that might sain him
+         Of life's uncounted scars.
+
+         Self-dedicated anchorite,
+         Never disdainful of the dust,
+     But conscious of the overcoming night
+     That must engulph the blooms and berries of lust,
+     And unforgetful of the enveloping day beyond;
+     Though a sweet show was spread for thy delight
+     Resolved not to be so fond
+     As, in ephemeral gauds caparisoned,
+     To station feet upon a world of vapour
+     Soft as a dream and fleeting as a taper;
+     Thou thoughtest nevertheless that thou shouldst occupy
+     Thyself, as it seemed to thee, most worthily
+     Until the rapid hour when thou shouldst die;
+         So, in a world of seemings,
+         Of shadows and of dreamings,
+     Busied thyself to fashion and record
+     Unto the greater glory of thy Lord,
+         For thy proud lady Beauty His
+     Most excellent and humble handmaid is.
+     Says one thy service was too ceremonial,
+     Thy vestments irised overmuch, thy ritual
+     Too elaborate and thy rubric too obscure,
+     Therefore thy gift of chant and orison
+     Beneath the perfect service men have done.
+         O but thy notes were pure,
+     And in a day like this we now endure
+     No fault it was in thee to set thy camp
+         Remote, aloof, aloof,
+         In a far fastness proof
+     'Gainst the mephitic odours of the swamp.
+         Which being so, no gain
+         'Twere to explain
+     An exquisiteness too meticulous;
+         Let us but say it pleased thee thus,
+     Dowered with imagination heavy-fruited,
+     To raise a column garlanded and fluted
+         For Him thy heavenly abacus.
+         This was thine offering thou didst make
+         In founded hope that He
+         The craftsman's best would take
+     Well knowing its unobscure sincerity.
+
+         The cord broke and the tent
+         Slipped and the silken roof
+         Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof
+         Of the deliberate firmament.
+         We still in this terrene abode
+         Forlorn must tread the difficult road,
+         And all meek thanks and all belief
+         Hardly suffice to rampart grief.
+     For gone is Beauty's votary apostolic
+     And are her temples now delivered over
+     To blindworms and libidinous goats that frolic
+     In places hallowed by that celestial lover.
+         Save only two or three
+         With undivided minds like thee,
+         None now remains that girds
+         The peregrinal loin,
+     None reverent of Beauty's holy tongue,
+     But counterfeiters of her imaged coin,
+     Iconoclasts, breakers of carven words,
+     Seekers of worthless treasure in the dung,
+     Mock mages and cacophonous charlatans,
+         And pismire artisans
+         Labouring to make
+     Such mirrored replicas of Nature's face
+     As might the surface of a stagnant lake.
+
+         Yet we should anger not,
+         Nor let that be forgot,
+         The testament of stateliest worth
+         He left us when he fled the earth.
+         The mausoleum made of rhyme,
+         Fair in its unfrequented field,
+         Which shall invulnerably shield
+         His memory to the end of Time;
+         The house with curtain-flaming halls
+         And roof of gold and jewelled walls
+         For which the fisher sank his net
+         Into the deepest pools of speech,
+         Scooping rich conchs and ribbons wet
+         That a less venturous could not reach,
+         The hunter tracked the metaphor
+         On many a foamy silver coast
+         A hundred leagues beyond the most
+         Fabulous Tellurian shore.
+
+         Magnificent he was and mild,
+         Glad to be still and glad to speak,
+         Daring yet delicate as a child,
+         Faithful, compassionate and holy,
+         And, being human, strong and weak,
+         And full of hope and melancholy.
+         No more than we, able to shed
+         Man's nature he inherited,
+         Neither sin's garrison to kill,
+     Yet at the last with constancy so great
+     As the world's vanities to abnegate,
+     Sternly to will the sacrifice of will
+     Upon the altars of the Uncreate,
+         So that he lived before he died
+     As one who hourly to himself denied
+         All joys save those that cannot pall,
+     Who having nothing yet had all.
+
+
+
+
+     FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND
+
+
+     I
+
+     When I was a boy there was a friend of mine,
+     We thought ourselves warriors and grown folk swine,
+     Stupid old animals who never understood
+     And never had an impulse and said "you must be good."
+
+     We slank like stoats and fled like foxes,
+     We put cigarettes in the pillar-boxes,
+     Lighted cigarettes and letters all aflame--
+     O the surprise when the postman came!
+
+     We stole eggs and apples and made fine hay
+     In people's houses when people were away,
+     We broke street lamps and away we ran,
+     Then I was a boy but now I am a man.
+
+     Now I am a man and don't have any fun,
+     I hardly ever shout and I never never run,
+     And I don't care if he's dead that friend of mine,
+     For then I was a boy and now I am a swine.
+
+
+     II
+
+     We met again the other night
+     With people; you were quite polite,
+     Shook my hand and spoke awhile
+     Of common things with cautious smile;
+     Paid the usual debt men owe
+     To fellows whom they used to know.
+     But, when our eyes met full, yours dropped,
+     And sudden, resolute, you stopped,
+     Moving with hurried syllables
+     To make remarks to some one else.
+     I caught them not, to me they said:
+     "Let the dead past bury its dead,
+     Things were very different then,
+     Boys are fools and men are men."
+     Several times the other night
+     You did your best to be polite;
+     When in the conversation's round
+     You heard my tongue's familiar sound
+     You bent in eager pose my way
+     To hear what I had got to say;
+     Trying, you thought with some success,
+     To hide the chasm's nakedness.
+     But on your eyes hard films there lay;
+     No mock-interest, no pretence
+     Could veil your blank indifference;
+     And if thoughts came recalling things
+     Far-off, far-off, from those old springs
+     When underneath the moon and sun
+     Our separate pulses beat as one,
+     Vagrant tender thoughts that asked
+     Admittance found the portal masked;
+     You spurned them; when I'd said my say,
+     With laugh and nod you turned away
+     To toss your friends some easy jest
+     That smote my brow and stabbed my breast.
+     Foolish though it be and vain
+     I am not master of my pain,
+     And when I said good-night to you
+     I hoped we should not meet again,
+     And wondered how the soul I knew
+     Could change so much; have I changed too?
+
+
+     III
+
+     There was a man whom I knew well
+     Whose choice it was to live in hell;
+     Reason there was why that was so
+     But what it was I do not know.
+
+     He had a room high in a tower,
+     And sat there drinking hour by hour,
+     Drinking, drinking all alone
+     With candles and a wall of stone.
+
+     Now and then he sobered down,
+     And stayed a night with me in town.
+     If he found me with a crowd,
+     He shrank and did not speak aloud.
+
+     He sat in a corner silently,
+     And others of the company
+     Would note his curious face and eye,
+     His twitching face and timid eye.
+
+     When they saw the eye he had
+     They thought perhaps that he was mad.
+     I knew he was clear and sane
+     But had a horror in his brain.
+
+     He had much money and one friend
+     And drank quite grimly to the end.
+     Why he chose to die in hell
+     I did not ask, he did not tell.
+
+
+
+
+     LINES
+
+
+     When London was a little town
+       Lean by the river's marge,
+     The poet paced it with a frown,
+       He thought it very large.
+
+     He loved bright ship and pointing steeple
+       And bridge with houses loaded
+     And priests and many-coloured people ...
+       But ah, they were not woaded!
+
+     Not all the walls could shed the spell
+       Of meres and marshes green,
+     Nor any chaffering merchant tell
+       The beauty that had been:
+
+     The crying birds at fall of night,
+       The fisher in his coracle,
+     And grim on Ludgate's windy height,
+       An oak-tree and an oracle.
+
+     Sick for the past his hair he rent
+       And dropt a tear in season;
+     If he had cause for his lament
+       We have much better reason.
+
+     For now the fields and paths he knew
+       Are coffined all with bricks,
+     The lucid silver stream he knew
+       Runs slimy as the Styx;
+
+     North and south and east and west,
+       Far as the eye can travel,
+     Earth with a sombre web is drest
+       That nothing can unravel.
+
+     And we must wear as black a frown,
+       Wail with as keen a woe
+     That London was a little town
+       Five hundred years ago.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Yet even this place of steamy stir,
+       This pit of belch and swallow,
+     With chrism of gold and gossamer
+       The elements can hallow.
+
+     I have a room in Chancery Lane,
+       High in a world of wires,
+     Whence fall the roofs a ragged plain
+       Wooded with many spires.
+
+     There in the dawns of summer days
+       I stand in adoration,
+     While London's robed in rainbow haze
+       And gold illumination.
+
+     The wizard breezes waft the rays
+       Shot by the waking sun,
+     A myriad chimneys softly blaze,
+       A myriad shadows run.
+
+     Round the wide rim in radiant mist
+       The gentle suburbs quiver,
+     And nearer lies the shining twist
+       Of Thames, a holy river
+
+     Left and right my vision drifts,
+       By yonder towers I linger,
+     Where Westminster's cathedral lifts
+       Its belled Byzantine finger,
+
+     And here against my perchèd home
+       Where hold wise converse daily
+     The loftier and the lesser dome,
+       St. Paul's and the Old Bailey.
+
+
+
+
+     ECHOES
+
+
+     There is a far unfading city
+      Where bright immortal people are;
+     Remote from hollow shame and pity,
+       Their portals frame no guiding star
+     But blightless pleasure's moteless rays
+       That follow their footsteps as they dance
+     Long lutanied measures through a maze
+       Of flower-like song and dalliance.
+
+     There always glows the vernal sun,
+       There happy birds for ever sing,
+     There faint perfumèd breezes run
+       Through branches of eternal spring;
+     There faces browned and fruit and milk
+       And blue-winged words and rose-bloomed kisses
+     In galleys gowned with gold and silk
+       Shake on a lake of dainty blisses.
+
+     Coyness is not, nor bear they thought
+       Save of a shining gracious flow,
+     All natural joys are temperate sought,
+       For calm desire there they know,
+     A fire promiscuous, languorous, kind;
+       They scorn all fiercer lusts and quarrels,
+     Nor blow about on anger's wind,
+       Nor burn with love, nor rust with morals.
+
+     Folk in the far unfading city,
+       Burning with lusts my senses are,
+     I am torn with love and shame and pity,
+       Be to my heart a guiding star
+     Wise youths and maidens in the sun,
+       With eyes that charm and lips that sing,
+     And gentle arms that rippling run,
+       Shed on my heart your endless spring!
+
+
+
+
+     THE FUGITIVE
+
+
+     Flying his hair and his eyes averse,
+     Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+     How could we clear his charms rehearse?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     High on a down we found him last,
+     Shy as a hare, he fled as fast;
+     How could we clasp him or ever he passed?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     How could we cling to his limbs that shone,
+     Ravish his cheeks' red gonfalon,
+     Or the wild-skin cloak that he had on?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     For the wind of his feet still straightly shaping,
+     He loosed at our breasts from his eyes escaping
+     One crooked swift glance like a javelin leaping.
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     And his feet passed over the sunset land
+     From the place forlorn where a forlorn band
+     Watching him flying we still did stand.
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     Vanishing now who would not stay
+     To the blue hills on the verge of day.
+     O soft! soft! Music play,
+              Fading away,
+                (Fleet are his feet
+                And his heart apart)
+              Fading away.
+
+
+
+
+     IN AN ORCHARD
+
+
+     Airy and quick and wise
+       In the shed light of the sun,
+     You clasp with friendly eyes
+       The thoughts from mine that run.
+
+     But something breaks the link;
+       I solitary stand
+     By a giant gully's brink
+       In some vast gloomy land.
+
+     Sole central watcher, I
+       With steadfast sadness now
+     In that waste place descry
+       'Neath the awful heavens how
+
+     Your life doth dizzy drop
+       A little foam of flame
+     From a peak without a top
+       To a pit without a name.
+
+
+
+
+     IN A CHAIR
+
+
+     He room is full of the peace of night,
+       The small flames murmur and flicker and sway,
+     Within me is neither shadow, nor light,
+       Nor night, nor twilight, nor dawn, nor day.
+
+     For the brain strives not to the goal of thought,
+       And the limbs lie wearied, and all desire
+     Sleeps for a while, and I am naught
+       But a pair of eyes that gaze at a fire.
+
+
+
+
+     A DAY
+
+
+     I. MORNING
+
+     The village fades away
+       Where I last night came
+     Where they housed me and fed me
+       And never asked my name.
+
+     The sun shines bright, my step is light,
+       I, who have no abode,
+     Jeer at the stuck, monotonous
+       Black posts along the road.
+
+
+     II. MIDDAY
+
+             The wood is still,
+               As here I sit
+             My heart drinks in
+               The peace of it.
+
+             A something stirs
+               I know not where
+             Some quiet spirit
+               In the air.
+
+             O tall straight stems!
+               O cool deep green!
+             O hand unfelt!
+               O face unseen!
+
+
+     III. EVENING
+
+     The evening closes in,
+       As down this last long lane
+     I plod; there patter round
+       First heavy drops of rain.
+
+     Feet ache, legs ache, but now
+       Step quickens as I think
+     Of mounds of bread and cheese
+       And something hot to drink.
+
+
+     IV. NIGHT
+
+             Ah! sleep is sweet, but yet
+               I will not sleep awhile
+             Nor for a space forget
+               The toil of that last mile;
+
+             But lie awake and feel
+               The cool sheets' tremulous kisses
+             O'er all my body steal ...
+               Is sleep as sweet as this is?
+
+
+
+
+     THE MIND OF MAN
+
+
+     I
+
+     Beneath my skull-bone and my hair,
+       Covered like a poisonous well,
+     There is a land: if you looked there
+       What you saw you'd quail to tell.
+     You that sit there smiling, you
+     Know that what I say is true.
+
+     My head is very small to touch,
+       I feel it all from front to back,
+     An eared round that weighs not much,
+     Eyes, nose-holes, and a pulpy crack:
+     Oh, how small, how small it is!
+     How could countries be in this?
+
+     Yet, when I watch with eyelids shut,
+       It glimmers forth, now dark, now clear,
+     The city of Cis-Occiput,
+       The marshes and the writhing mere,
+     The land that every man I see
+     Knows in himself but not in me.
+
+
+     II
+
+     Upon the borders of the weald
+       (I walk there first when I step in)
+     Set in green wood and smiling field,
+       The city stands, unstained of sin;
+     White thoughts and wishes pure
+     Walk the streets with steps demure.
+
+     In its clean groves and spacious halls
+       The quiet-eyed inhabitants
+     Hold innocent sunny festivals
+       And mingle in decorous dance;
+     Things that destroy, distort, deface,
+     Come never to that lovely place.
+
+     Never could evil enter thither,
+       It could not live in that sweet air,
+     The shadow of an ill deed must wither
+       And fall away to nothing there.
+     You would say as there you stand
+     That all was beauty in the land.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     But go you out beyond the gateway,
+       Cleave you the woods and pass the plain,
+     Cross you the frontier down, and straightway
+       The trees will end, the grass will wane,
+     And you will come to a wilderness
+     Of sticks and parchèd barrenness.
+
+     The middle of the land is this,
+       A tawny desert midmost set,
+     Barren of living things it is,
+       Saving at night some vampires flit
+     That nest them in the farther marish
+     Where all save vilest things must perish.
+
+     Here in this reedy marsh of green
+       And oily pools, swarm insects fat
+     And birds of prey and beasts obscene,
+       Things that the traveller shudders at,
+     All cunning things that creep and fly
+     To suck men's blood until they die.
+
+     Rarely from hence does aught escape
+       Into the world of outer light,
+     But now and then some sable shape
+       Outward will dash in sudden flight;
+     And men stand stonied or distraught
+     To know the loathly deed or thought.
+
+     But, ah! beyond the marsh you reach
+       A purulent place more vile than all,
+     A festering lake too foul for speech,
+       Rotten and black, with coils acrawl,
+     Where writhe with lecherous squeakings shrill
+     Horrors that make the heart stand still.
+
+     There, 'neath a heaven diseased, it lies,
+       The mere alive with slimy worms,
+     With perverse terrible infamies,
+       And murders and repulsive forms
+     That have no name, but slide here deep
+     Whilst I, their holder, silence keep.
+
+
+
+
+     A REASONABLE PROTESTATION
+
+     [To F., who complained of his vagueness and lack of
+     dogmatic statement]
+
+
+     Not, I suppose, since I deny
+     Appearance is reality,
+     And doubt the substance of the earth
+     Does your remonstrance come to birth;
+     Not that at once I both affirm
+     'Tis not the skin that makes the worm
+     And every tactile thing with mass
+     Must find its symbol in the grass
+     And with a cool conviction say
+     Even a critic's more than clay
+     And every dog outlives his day.
+     This kind of vagueness suits your view,
+     You would not carp at it; for you
+     Did never stand with those who take
+     Their pleasures in a world opaque.
+     For you a tree would never be
+     Lovely were it but a tree,
+     And earthly splendours never splendid
+     If by transience unattended.
+     Your eyes are on a farther shore
+     Than any of earth; you not adore
+     As godhead God's dead hieroglyph,
+     Nor would you be perturbed if
+     Some prophet with a voice of thunder
+     And avalanche arm should blast and founder
+     The logical pillars that maintain
+     This visible world which loads the brain,
+     Loads the brain and withers the heart
+     And holds man from his God apart.
+
+     But still with you remains the craving
+     For some more solid substance, having
+     Surface to touch, colour to see,
+     And form compact in symmetry.
+     You are not satisfied with these
+     Vague throbbings, utterless ecstasies,
+     Void finds your spirit of delight
+     This great indefinite white light,
+     Not with such sickles can you reap;
+     If a dense earth you cannot keep
+     You want a dense heaven as substitute
+     With trees of plump celestial fruit,
+     Red apples, golden pomegranates,
+     And a river flowing by tall gates
+     Of topaz and of chrysolite
+     And walls of twenty cubits height.
+
+     Frank, you cry out against the age!
+     Nor you nor I can disengage
+     Ourselves from that in which we live
+     Nor seize on things God does not give.
+     Thirsty as you, perhaps, I long
+     For courtyards of eternal song,
+     Even as yours my feet would stray
+     In a city where 'tis always day
+     And a green spontaneous leafy garden
+     With God in the middle for a warden;
+     But though I trust with strengthening faith
+     I'll taste when I have traversed death
+     The unimaginable sweetness
+     Of certitude of such concreteness,
+     How should I draw the hue and scope
+     Of substances I only hope
+     Or blaze upon a mortal screen
+     The evidence of things not seen?
+     This art of ours but grows and stirs
+     Experience when it registers,
+     And you know well as I know well
+     This autumn of time in which we dwell
+     Is not an age of revelations
+     Solid as once, but intimations
+     That touch us with warm misty fingers
+     Leaving a nameless sense that lingers
+     That sight is blind and Time's a snare
+     And earth less solid than the air
+     And deep below all seeming things
+     There sits a steady king of kings
+     A radiant ageless permanence,
+     A quenchless fount of virtue whence
+     We draw our life; a sense that makes
+     A staunch conviction nothing shakes
+     Of our own immortality.
+     And though, being man, with certain glee
+     I eat and drink, though I suffer pain,
+     And love and hate and love again
+     Well or in mode contemptible,
+     Thus shackled by the body's spell
+     I see through pupils of the beast
+     Though it be faint and blurred with mist
+     A Star that travels in the East.
+
+     I see what I can, not what I will
+     In things that move, things that are still,
+     Thin motion, even cloudier rest,
+     I see the symbols God hath drest
+     The moveless trees, the trees that wave
+     The clouds that heavenly highways have,
+     Horses that run, rocks that are fixt,
+     Streams that have rest and motion mixt,
+     The main with its abiding flux,
+     The wind that up my chimney sucks
+     A mounting waterfall of flame,
+     Sticks, straws, dust, beetles and that same
+     Old blazing sun the Psalmist saw
+     A testifier to the law.
+     Divinely to the heart they speak
+     Saying how they are but weak
+     Wan will o' the wisps o'er the crystal sea;
+     But stays that sea still dark to me.
+
+     Did I now glibly insolent
+     Chart the ulterior firmament,
+     Would you not know my words were lies,
+     Where not my testimonial eyes
+     Mortal or spiritual lodge,
+     Mere uncorroborated fudge?
+     Praise me, though praise I do not want,
+     Rather, that I have cast much cant,
+     That what I see and feel I write
+     Read what I can in this dim light
+     Granted to me in nether night.
+     And though I am vague and shrink to guess
+     God's everlasting purposes,
+     And never save in perplext dream
+     Have caught the least authentic gleam
+     Of the great kingdom and the throne
+     In the world that lies behind our own,
+     I have not lacked my certainties,
+     I have not haggard moaned the skies,
+     Now waged unnecessary strife
+     Nor scorned nor overvalued life.
+     And though you say my attitude
+     Is questioning, concede my mood
+     Does never bring to tongue or pen
+     Accents of gloomy modern men
+     Who wail or hail the death of God
+     And weigh and measure man the clod,
+     Or say they draw reluctant breath
+     And musically mourn that Death
+     Is a queen omnipotent of woe
+     And Life her lean cicisbeo,
+     Abject and pale, whom vampire-like
+     She playeth with ere she shall strike,
+     And pose sad riddles to the Sphinx
+     With raven quills in purple inks,...
+     Then send the boy to fetch more drinks.
+
+
+
+
+     EPILOGUE
+
+
+     Than farthest stars more distant,
+         A mile more,
+         A mile more,
+     A voice cries on insistent:
+     "You may smile more if you will;
+
+     "You may sing too and spring too;
+         But numb at last
+         And dumb at last,
+     Whatever port you cling to,
+     You must come at last to a hill.
+
+     "And never a man you'll find there
+         To take your hand
+         And shake your hand;
+     But when you go behind there
+     You must make your hand a sword
+
+     "To fence with a foeman swarthy,
+         And swink there
+         Nor shrink there,
+     Though cowardly and worthy
+     Must drink there one reward."
+
+
+
+
+     TWELVE
+
+     TRANSLATIONS
+
+     FROM
+
+     CHARLES BAUDELAIRE
+
+
+
+
+     TOUT ENTIÈRE
+
+
+     This morning in my attic high
+       The Demon came to visit me,
+     And seeking faults in my reply,
+       He said: "I would inquire of thee,
+
+     "Of all the beauties which compose
+       Her charming body's potent spell,
+     Of all the objects black and rose
+       Which make the thing you love so well,
+
+     "Which is the sweetest?" O my soul!
+       Thou didst rejoin: "How tell of parts,
+     When all I know is that the whole
+       Works magic in my heart of hearts?
+
+     "Where all is fair, how should I say
+       What single grace is my delight?
+     She shines on me like break of day
+       And she consoles me as the night.
+
+     "There flows through all her perfect frame
+       A harmony too exquisite
+     That weak analysis should name
+       The numberless accords of it.
+
+     "O mystic metamorphosis!
+       My separate senses all are blent;
+     Within her breath soft music is,
+       And in her voice a subtle scent!"
+
+
+
+
+     THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF
+
+
+     One, Nature! burns and makes thee bright,
+       One gives thee weeds to mourn withal;
+       And what to one is burial
+     Is to the other life and light.
+
+     The unknown Hermes who assists
+       And alway fills my heart with fear
+       Makes me the mighty Midas' peer
+     The saddest of the alchemists.
+
+     Through him I make gold changeable
+     To dross, and paradise to hell;
+     Clouds for its corpse-cloths I descry.
+
+     A stark dead body I love well,
+       And in the gleaming fields on high
+       I build immense sarcophagi.
+
+
+
+
+     SPLEEN
+
+
+     When the low heavy sky weighs like a lid
+       Upon the spirit aching for the light
+     And all the wide horizon's line is hid
+       By a black day sadder than any night;
+
+     When the changed earth is but a dungeon dank
+       Where batlike Hope goes blindly fluttering
+     And, striking wall and roof and mouldered plank,
+       Bruises his tender head and timid wing;
+
+     When like grim prison-bars stretch down the thin,
+       Straight, rigid pillars of the endless rain,
+     And the dumb throngs of infamous spiders spin
+       Their meshes in the caverns of the brain;--
+
+     Suddenly, bells leap forth into the air,
+       Hurling a hideous uproar to the sky
+     As 'twere a band of homeless spirits who fare
+       Through the strange heavens, wailing stubbornly.
+
+     And hearses, without drum or instrument,
+       File slowly through my soul; crushed, sorrowful,
+     Weeps Hope, and Grief, fierce and omnipotent,
+       Plants his black banner on my drooping skull.
+
+
+
+
+     A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA
+
+
+     My heart was like a bird and took to flight,
+       Around the rigging circling joyously;
+       The ship rolled on beneath a cloudless sky
+     Like a great angel drunken with the light.
+
+     "What is yon isle, sad and funereal?"
+       "Cythera famed in deathless song," said they,
+       "The gay old bachelors' Eldorado-Nay,
+     Look! 'tis a poor bare country after all!"
+
+     Isle of sweet secrets and heart banquetings!
+       The queenly shade of antique Venus thrills
+       Scentlike above thy level seas and fills
+     Our souls with languor and all amorous things.
+
+     Fair isle and of green myrtles and blown flowers
+       Held holy by all men for evermore,
+       Where the faint sighs of spirits that adore
+     Float like rose-incense through the quiet hours,
+
+     And dovelike sounds each murmured orison:--
+       Cythera lay there barren 'neath bright skies,
+       A rocky waste rent by discordant cries:
+     Natheless I saw a curious thing thereon.
+
+     No shady temple was it, close enshrined
+       I' the trees; no flower-crowned priestess hither came
+     With her young body burnt by secret flame,
+     Baring her breast to the caressing wind;
+
+     But when so close to the land's edge we drew
+       Our canvas scared the sea-fowl--gradually
+       We knew it for a three-branched gallows tree
+     Like a black cypress stark against the blue.
+
+     A rotten carcase hung, whereon did sit
+       A swarm of foul black birds; with writhe and shriek
+       Each sought to pierce and plunge his knife-like beak
+     Deep in the bleeding trunk and limbs of it.
+
+     The eyes were holes; the belly opened wide
+       Streaming its heavy entrails on the thighs;
+       The grim birds, gorged with dreadful delicacies,
+     Had dug and furrowed it on every side.
+
+     Beneath the blackened feet there strove and pressed
+       A herd of jealous beasts with upward snout,
+       And in the midst of these there turned about
+     One, the chief hangman, larger than the rest....
+
+     Lone Cytherean! now all silently
+       Thou sufferest these insults to atone
+       For those old infamous sins that thou hast known,
+     The sins that locked the gate o' the grave to thee.
+
+     Mine are thy sorrows, ludicrous corse; yea, all
+       Are mine! I stood thy swaying limbs beneath,
+       And, like a bitter vomit, to my teeth
+     There rose old shadows in a stream of gall.
+
+     O thou unhappy devil, I felt afresh,
+       Gazing at thee, the beaks and jaws of those
+       Black savage panthers and those ruthless crows,
+     Who loved of old to macerate my flesh.
+
+     The sea was calm, the sky without a cloud;
+       Henceforth for me all things that came to pass
+       Were blood and darkness,--round my heart, alas!
+     There clung that allegory, like a shroud.
+
+     Naught save mine image on a gibbet thrust
+       Found I on Venus island desolate....
+       Ah, God! the courage and strength to contemplate
+     My body and my heart without disgust.
+
+
+
+
+     THE CRACKED BELL
+
+
+     'Tis bitter-sweet, when winter nights are long,
+       To watch, beside the flames which smoke and twist,
+     The distant memories which slowly throng,
+       Brought by the chime soft-singing through the mist.
+
+     Happy the sturdy, vigorous-throated bell
+       Who, spite of age alert and confident,
+     Cries hourly, like some strong old sentinel
+       Flinging the ready challenge from his tent.
+
+     For me, my soul is cracked; when sick with care,
+     She strives with songs to people the cold air
+       It happens often that her feeble cries
+
+       Mock the harsh rattle of a man who lies
+     Wounded, forgotten, 'neath a mound of slain
+     And dies, pinned fast, writhing his limbs in pain.
+
+
+
+
+     THE OFFENDED MOON
+
+
+     O moon, O lamp of hill and secret dale!
+       Thou whom our fathers, ages out of mind,
+       Worshipped in thy blue heaven, whilst behind
+     Thy stars streamed after thee a glittering trail,
+
+     Dost see the poet, weary-eyed and pale,
+       Or lovers on their happy beds reclined,
+       Showing white teeth in sleep, or vipers twined,
+     'Neath the dry sward; or in a golden veil
+
+     Stealest thou with faint footfall o'er the grass
+       As of old, to kiss from twilight unto dawn
+     The faded charms of thine Endymion?...
+
+     "O child of this sick century, I see
+     Thy grey-haired mother leering in her glass
+     And plastering the breast that suckled thee!"
+
+
+
+
+     TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE,
+
+     1842
+
+
+     So proud your port, your arm so powerful,
+       With such a grip you grip the goddess' hair,
+       That one might take you, from your casual air,
+     For a young ruffian flinging down his trull.
+
+     Your clear eye flashing with precocity,
+       You have displayed yourself proud architect
+       Of fabrics so audaciously correct
+     That we may guess what your ripe prime will be.
+
+     Poet, our blood ebbs out through every pore;
+     Is it, perchance, the robe the Centaur bore,
+       Which made a sullen streamlet of each vein,
+
+     Was three times dipped within the venom fell
+     Of those old reptiles fierce and terrible
+       Whom, in his cradle, Hercules had slain?
+
+
+
+
+     MUSIC
+
+
+     Oft Music, as it were some moving mighty sea,
+       Bears me towards my pale
+     Star: in clear space, or 'neath a vaporous canopy
+       On-floating, I set sail.
+
+     With heaving chest which strains forward, and lungs outblown,
+       I climb the ridgèd steeps
+     Of those high-pilèd clouds which 'thwart the night are thrown,
+       Veiling its starry deeps.
+
+     I suffer all the throes, within my quivering form,
+       Of a great ship in pain,
+     Now a soft wind, and now the writhings of a storm
+
+       Upon the vasty main
+     Rock me: at other times a death-like calm, the bare
+       Mirror of my despair.
+
+
+
+
+     THE CATS
+
+
+     The lover and the stern philosopher
+       Both love, in their ripe time, the confident
+       Soft cats, the house's chiefest ornament,
+     Who like themselves are cold and seldom stir.
+
+     Of knowledge and of pleasure amorous,
+       Silence they seek and Darkness' fell domain;
+       Had not their proud souls scorned to brook his rein,
+     They would have made grim steeds for Erebus.
+
+     Pensive they rest in noble attitudes
+     Like great stretched sphinxes in vast solitudes
+       Which seem to sleep wrapt in an endless dream;
+
+     Their fruitful loins are full of sparks divine,
+     And gleams of gold within their pupils shine
+       As 'twere within the shadow of a stream.
+
+
+
+
+     THE SADNESS OF THE MOON
+
+
+     This evening the Moon dreams more languidly,
+       Like a beauty who on mounded cushions rests,
+     And with her light hand fondles lingeringly,
+       Before she sleeps, the slope of her sweet breasts.
+
+     On her soft satined avalanches' height
+       Dying, she laps herself for hours and hours
+     In long, long swoons, and gazes at the white
+       Visions which rise athwart the blue like flowers.
+
+     When sometimes in her perfect indolence
+     She lets a furtive tear steal gently thence,
+       Some pious poet, a lone, sleepless one,
+
+     Takes in his hollowed hand this gem, shot through,
+     Like an opal stone, with gleams of every hue,
+       And in his heart's depths hides it from the sun.
+
+
+
+
+     MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA
+
+     Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache,
+       Plunged in this squalid city's filthy sea,
+     For another ocean where the splendours break
+       Blue, clear, and deep as is virginity.
+     Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache?
+
+     The sea, the sea unending, comforts us!
+       What demon gave the hoarse old sea who sings
+     To her mumbling hurricanes' organ thunderous
+       The god-like power to cradle sorrowful things?
+     The sea, the sea unending, comforts us.
+
+     Carry me, wagon, bear me, barque, away!
+       Far! Far! For here the mud is made of tears!
+     Does Agatha's sad heart not sometimes say:
+       "O far from shudderings and crimes and fears,
+     Carry me, wagon; bear me barque, away?"
+
+     How far thou art, O scented paradise,
+       O paradise where all is love and joy,
+     Where all is worthy love 'neath the azure skies,
+       And the heart drowns in bliss without alloy!
+     How far thou art, O scented paradise!
+
+     But the green paradise of childish loves,
+       The games, the songs, the kisses and the flowers,
+     The laughing draughts of wine in hidden groves,
+       The violins throbbing through the twilight hours,
+     --But the green paradise of childish loves,
+
+     The artless paradise of stealthy joys,
+       Is that already leagues beyond Cathay?
+     And can one, with a little plaintive noise,
+       Bring it again that is so far away--
+     The artless paradise of stealthy joys?
+
+
+
+
+     THE OWLS
+
+
+     'Neath their black yews in solemn state
+       The owls are sitting in a row
+       Like foreign gods; and even so
+     Blink their red eyes; they meditate.
+
+     Quite motionless they hold them thus
+       Until at last the day is done,
+       And driving down the slanting sun,
+     The sad night is victorious.
+
+     They teach the wise who gives them ear
+     That in this world he most should fear
+       All things which loud or restless be.
+
+     Who, dazzled by a passing shade,
+       Follows it, never will be free
+     Till the dread penalty be paid.
+
+FINIS
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Three Hills, by 
+John Collings Squire and Charles Baudelaire
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36620 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36620 ***</div>
+
+<h1>THE THREE HILLS</h1>
+
+<h3>AND OTHER POEMS</h3>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>J.C. SQUIRE</h2>
+
+
+<h5>LONDON: HOWARD LATIMER LTD.</h5>
+
+<h5>GREAT QUEEN STREET, KINGSWAY</h5>
+
+<h5>MCMXIII</h5>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h5>TO</h5>
+
+<h5>FRANCIS BURROWS</h5>
+
+<hr style="width: 95%;" />
+
+<p class="small">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">CONTENTS</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ANTINOMIES_ON_A_RAILWAY_STATION">ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_THREE_HILLS">THE THREE HILLS</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_CHANT">A CHANT</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ARTEMIS_ALTERA">ARTEMIS ALTERA</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#STARLIGHT">STARLIGHT</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FLORIANS_SONG">FLORIAN'S SONG</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#DIALOGUE">DIALOGUE</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#CREPUSCULAR">CREPUSCULAR</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#AT_NIGHT">AT NIGHT</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FOR_MUSIC">FOR MUSIC</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ROOF">THE ROOF</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TREETOPS">TREETOPS</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#IN_THE_PARK">IN THE PARK</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SONG">SONG</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TOWN">TOWN</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_MEMORIAL">A MEMORIAL</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FRIENDSHIPS_GARLAND">FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND</a>&mdash;I</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;">&mdash;II</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;">&mdash;III</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#LINES">LINES ON THE EARTHLY PARADISE</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ECHOES">ECHOES</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_FUGITIVE">THE FUGITIVE</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#IN_AN_ORCHARD">IN THE ORCHARD</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#IN_A_CHAIR">IN A CHAIR</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_DAY">A DAY</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_MIND_OF_MAN">THE MIND OF MAN</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_REASONABLE_PROTESTATION">A REASONABLE PROTESTATION</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</a></span><br /><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">TWELVE TRANSLATIONS FROM CHARLES BAUDELAIRE</span><br /><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TOUT_ENTIERE">TOUT ENTIÈRE</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ALCHEMY_OF_GRIEF">THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SPLEEN">SPLEEN</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_VOYAGE_TO_CYTHERA">A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_CRACKED_BELL">THE CRACKED BELL</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_OFFENDED_MOON">THE OFFENDED MOON</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TO_THEODORE_DE_BANVILLE">TO THEODORE BANVILLE, 1984</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MUSIC">MUSIC</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_CATS">THE CATS</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_SADNESS_OF_THE_MOON">THE SADNESS OF THE MOON</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MOESTA_ET_ERRABUNDA">MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_OWLS">THE OWLS</a></span>
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Many of the above poems have appeared in the "British Review," the
+"Eye-Witness," the "New Witness," the "Oxford and Cambridge Review," the
+"New Statesman," and the "New Age," to the Editors of which thanks are
+due for permission to reprint. Three of the short poems and most of the
+translations are extracted from an earlier volume.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+<b><a name="ANTINOMIES_ON_A_RAILWAY_STATION" id="ANTINOMIES_ON_A_RAILWAY_STATION"></a>ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+As I stand waiting in the rain<br />
+For the foggy hoot of the London train,<br />
+Gazing at silent wall and lamp<br />
+And post and rail and platform damp,<br />
+What is this power that comes to my sight<br />
+That I see a night without the night,<br />
+That I see them clear, yet look them through,<br />
+The silvery things and the darkly blue,<br />
+That the solid wall seems soft as death,<br />
+A wavering and unanchored wraith,<br />
+And rails that shine and stones that stream<br />
+Unsubstantial as a dream?<br />
+What sudden door has opened so,<br />
+What hand has passed, that I should know<br />
+This moving vision not of trance<br />
+That melts the globe of circumstance,<br />
+This sight that marks not least or most<br />
+And makes a stone a passing ghost?<br />
+<br />
+Is it that a year ago<br />
+I stood upon this self-same spot;<br />
+Is it that since a year ago<br />
+The place and I have altered not;<br />
+Is it that I half forgot,<br />
+A year ago, and all despised<br />
+For a space the things that I had prized:<br />
+The race of life, the glittering show?<br />
+Is it that now a year has passed<br />
+Of vain pursuit of glittering things,<br />
+Of fruitless searching, shouting, running,<br />
+And greedy lies and candour cunning,<br />
+Here as I stand the year above<br />
+Sudden the heats and the strivings fail<br />
+And fall away, a fluctuant veil,<br />
+And the fixed familiar stones restore<br />
+The old appearance-buried core,<br />
+The moveless and essential me,<br />
+The eternal personality<br />
+Alone enduring first and last?<br />
+<br />
+No, this I have known in other ways,<br />
+In other places, other days.<br />
+Not only here, on this one peak,<br />
+Do fixity and beauty speak<br />
+Of the delusiveness of change,<br />
+Of the transparency of form,<br />
+The bootless stress of minds that range,<br />
+The awful calm behind the storm.<br />
+In many places, many days,<br />
+The invaded soul receives the rays<br />
+Of countries she was nurtured in,<br />
+Speaks in her silent language strange<br />
+To that beyond which is her kin.<br />
+Even in peopled streets at times<br />
+A metaphysic arm is thrust<br />
+Through the partitioning fabric thin,<br />
+And tears away the darkening pall<br />
+Cast by the bright phenomenal,<br />
+And clears the obscured spirit's mirror<br />
+From shadows of deceptive error,<br />
+And shows the bells and all their ringing,<br />
+And all the crowds and all their singing,<br />
+Carillons that are nothing's chimes<br />
+And dust that is not even dust....<br />
+But rarely hold I converse thus<br />
+Where shapes are bright and clamorous,<br />
+More often comes the word divine<br />
+In places motionless and far;<br />
+Beneath the white peculiar shine<br />
+Of sunless summer afternoons;<br />
+At eventide on pale lagoons<br />
+Where hangs reflected one pale star;<br />
+Or deep in the green solitudes<br />
+Of still erect entrancèd woods.<br />
+<br />
+O, in the woods alone lying,<br />
+Scarce a bough in the wind sighing,<br />
+Gaze I long with fervid power<br />
+At leaf and branch and grass and flower,<br />
+Breathe I breaths of trembling sight<br />
+Shed from great urns of green delight,<br />
+Take I draughts and drink them up<br />
+Poured from many a stalk and cup.<br />
+Now do I burn for nothing more<br />
+Than thus to gaze, thus to adore<br />
+This exquisiteness of nature ever<br />
+In silence....<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">But with instant light</span><br />
+Rends the film; with joy I quiver<br />
+To see with new celestial sight<br />
+Flower and leaf and grass and tree,<br />
+Doomed barks on an eternal sea,<br />
+Flit phantom-like as transient smoke.<br />
+Beauty herself her spell has broke,<br />
+Beauty, the herald and the lure,<br />
+Her message told, may not endure;<br />
+Her portal opened, she has died,<br />
+Supreme immortal suicide.<br />
+Yes, sleepless nature soundless flings<br />
+Invisible grapples round the soul,<br />
+Drawing her through the web of things<br />
+To the primal end of her journeyings,<br />
+Her ultimate and constant pole.<br />
+<br />
+For Beauty with her hands that beckon<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is but the Prophet of a Higher,</span><br />
+A flaming and ephemeral beacon,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Phoenix perishing by fire.</span><br />
+Herself from us herself estranges,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Herself her mighty tale doth kill,</span><br />
+That all things change yet nothing changes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That all things move yet all are still.</span><br />
+<br />
+I cannot sink, I cannot climb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now that I see my ancient dwelling,</span><br />
+The central orb untouched of time,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And taste a peace all bliss excelling.</span><br />
+Now I have broken Beauty's wall,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now that my kindred world I hold,</span><br />
+I care not though the cities fall<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the green earth go cold.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="THE_THREE_HILLS" id="THE_THREE_HILLS"></a>THE THREE HILLS</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+There were three hills that stood alone<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With woods about their feet.</span><br />
+They dreamed quiet when the sun shone<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whispered when the rain beat.</span><br />
+<br />
+They wore all three their coronals<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till men with houses came</span><br />
+And scored their heads with pits and walls<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thought the hills were tame.</span><br />
+<br />
+Red and white when day shines bright<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They hide the green for miles,</span><br />
+Where are the old hills gone? At night<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The moon looks down and smiles.</span><br />
+<br />
+She sees the captors small and weak,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She knows the prisoners strong,</span><br />
+She hears the patient hills that speak:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Brothers, it is not long;</span><br />
+<br />
+"Brothers, we stood when they were not<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ten thousand summers past.</span><br />
+Brothers, when they are clean forgot<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We shall outlive the last;</span><br />
+<br />
+"One shall die and one shall flee<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With terror in his train,</span><br />
+And earth shall eat the stones, and we<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall be alone again."</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="A_CHANT" id="A_CHANT"></a>A CHANT</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Gently the petals fall as the tree gently sways<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That has known many springs and many petals fall</span><br />
+Year after year to strew the green deserted ways<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the statue and the pond and the low, broken wall.</span><br />
+<br />
+Faded is the memory of old things done,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peace floats on the ruins of ancient festival;</span><br />
+They lie and forget in the warmth of the sun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a sky silver-blue arches over all.</span><br />
+<br />
+O softly, O tenderly, the heart now stirs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With desires faint and formless; and, seeking not, I find</span><br />
+Quiet thoughts that flash like azure king-fishers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Across the luminous tranquil mirror of the mind.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="ARTEMIS_ALTERA" id="ARTEMIS_ALTERA"></a>ARTEMIS ALTERA</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+O full of candour and compassion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom love and worship both would praise,</span><br />
+Love cannot frame nor worship fashion<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The image of your fearless ways!</span><br />
+<br />
+How show your noble brow's dark pallor,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your chivalrous casque of ebon hair,</span><br />
+Your eyes' bright strength, your lips' soft valour,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your supple shoulders and hands that dare?</span><br />
+<br />
+Our souls when naïvely you examine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your sword of innocence, flaming, huge,</span><br />
+Sweeps over us, and there is famine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the ports of subterfuge.</span><br />
+<br />
+You hate contempt and love not laughter;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With your sharp spear of virgin will</span><br />
+You harry the wicked strong; but after,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O huntress who could never kill,</span><br />
+<br />
+Should they be trodden down or pierced,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swift, swift, you fly with burning cheek</span><br />
+To place your beauty's shield reversed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Above the vile defenceless weak!</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="STARLIGHT" id="STARLIGHT"></a>STARLIGHT</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Last night I lay in an open field<br />
+And looked at the stars with lips sealed;<br />
+No noise moved the windless air,<br />
+And I looked at the stars with steady stare.<br />
+<br />
+There were some that glittered and some that shone<br />
+With a soft and equal glow, and one<br />
+That queened it over the sprinkled round,<br />
+Swaying the host with silent sound.<br />
+<br />
+"Calm things," I thought, "in your cavern blue,<br />
+I will learn and hold and master you;<br />
+I will yoke and scorn you as I can,<br />
+For the pride of my heart is the pride of a man."<br />
+<br />
+Grass to my cheek in the dewy field<br />
+I lay quite still with lips sealed,<br />
+And the pride of a man and his rigid gaze<br />
+Stalked like swords on heaven's ways.<br />
+<br />
+But through a sudden gate there stole<br />
+The Universe and spread in my soul;<br />
+Quick went my breath and quick my heart,<br />
+And I looked at the stars with lips apart.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="FLORIANS_SONG" id="FLORIANS_SONG"></a>FLORIAN'S SONG</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+My soul, it shall not take us,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O we will escape</span><br />
+This world that strives to break us<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And cast us to its shape;</span><br />
+Its chisel shall not enter,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its fire shall not touch,</span><br />
+Hard from rim to centre,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We will not crack or smutch.</span><br />
+<br />
+'Gainst words sweet and flowered<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We have an amulet,</span><br />
+We will not play the coward<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For any black threat;</span><br />
+If we but give endurance<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To what is now within&mdash;</span><br />
+The single assurance<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">That it is good to win.</span><br />
+<br />
+Slaves think it better<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be weak than strong,</span><br />
+Whose hate is a fetter<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And their love a thong.</span><br />
+But we will view those others<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With eyes like stone,</span><br />
+And if we have no brothers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We will walk alone.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="DIALOGUE" id="DIALOGUE"></a>DIALOGUE</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE ONE</span><br />
+<br />
+The dead man's gone, the live man's<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">sad, the dying leaf shakes on the tree,</span><br />
+The wind constrains the window panes and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">moans like moaning of the sea,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sour's the taste now culled in haste of</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">lovely things I won too late,</span><br />
+And loud and loud above the crowd the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Voice of One more strong than we.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE OTHER</span><br />
+<br />
+This Voice you hear, this call you fear, is<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">it unprophesied or new?</span><br />
+Were you so insolent to think its rope would<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">never circle you?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did you then beastlike live and walk with</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">ears and eyes that would not turn?</span><br />
+Who bade you hope your service 'scape in<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">that eternal retinue?</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE ONE</span><br />
+<br />
+No; for I swear now bare's the tree and loud<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">the moaning of the wind,</span><br />
+I walked no rut with eyelids shut, my ears<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">and eyes were never blind,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Only my eager thoughts I bent on many</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">things that I desired</span><br />
+To make my greedy heart content ere flesh<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">and blood I left behind.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE OTHER</span><br />
+<br />
+Ignorance, then, was all your fault and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">filmèd eyes that could not know,</span><br />
+That half discerned and never learned the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">temporal way that men must go;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You set the image of the world high for</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">your heart's idolatry,</span><br />
+Though with your lips you called the world<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">a toy, a ghost, a passing show.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE ONE</span><br />
+<br />
+No, no; this is not true; my lips spoke<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">only what my heart believed.</span><br />
+Called I the world a toy; I spoke not echo-like<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">or self-deceived.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But that I thought the toy was mine to play</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">with, and the passing show</span><br />
+Would sate at least my passing lusts, and did<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">not, therefore am I grieved.</span><br />
+<br />
+What did I do that I must bear this lifelong<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">tyranny of my fate,</span><br />
+That I must writhe in bonds unsought of<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">accidental love and hate?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had chance but joinèd different dice, but</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">once or twice, but once or twice,</span><br />
+All lovely things that I desired I should have<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">held before too late.</span><br />
+<br />
+Surely I knew that flesh was grass nor valued<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">overmuch the prize,</span><br />
+But all the powers of chance conspired to<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">cheat a man both just and wise.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Happy I'd been had I but had my due</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">reward, and not a sword</span><br />
+Flaming in diabolic hand between me and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">my Paradise.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE OTHER</span><br />
+<br />
+No hooded band of fates did stand your<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">heart's ambitions to gainsay,</span><br />
+No flaming brand in evil hand was ever<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">thrust across your way,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Only the things all men must meet, the</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">common attributes of men,</span><br />
+That men may flinch to see or, seeing, deny,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">but avoid them no man may.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fall the dice, not once or twice but always, to<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">make the self-same sum;</span><br />
+Chance what may, a life's a life and to a<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">single goal must come;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though a man search far and wide, never</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">is hunger satisfied;</span><br />
+Nature brings her natural fetters, man is<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">meshed and the wise are dumb.</span><br />
+<br />
+O vain all art to assuage a heart with accents<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">of a mortal tongue,</span><br />
+All earthly words are incomplete and only<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">sweet are the songs unsung,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never yet was cause for regret, yet regret</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">must afflict us all,</span><br />
+Better it were to grasp the world 'thwart<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">which this world is a curtain flung.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="CREPUSCULAR" id="CREPUSCULAR"></a>CREPUSCULAR</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+No creature stirs in the wide fields.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rifted western heaven yields</span><br />
+The dying sun's illumination.<br />
+This is the hour of tribulation<br />
+When, with clear sight of eve engendered,<br />
+Day's homage to delusion rendered,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mute at her window sits the soul.</span><br />
+<br />
+Clouds and skies and lakes and seas,<br />
+Valleys and hills and grass and trees,<br />
+Sun, moon, and stars, all stand to her<br />
+Limbs of one lordless challenger,<br />
+Who, without deigning taunt or frown,<br />
+Throws a perennial gauntlet down:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Come conquer me and take thy toll."</span><br />
+<br />
+No cowardice or fear she knows,<br />
+But, as once more she girds, there grows<br />
+An unresignèd hopelessness<br />
+From memory of former stress.<br />
+Head bent, she muses whilst he waits:<br />
+How with such weapons dint his plates?<br />
+How quell this vast and sleepless giant<br />
+Calmly, immortally defiant,<br />
+<br />
+How fell him, bind him, and control<br />
+With a silver cord and a golden bowl?<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="AT_NIGHT" id="AT_NIGHT"></a>AT NIGHT</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Dark firtops foot the moony sky,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blue moonlight bars the drive;</span><br />
+Here at the open window I<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sit smoking and alive.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wind in the branches swells and breaks<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like ocean on a beach;</span><br />
+Deep in the sky and my heart there wakes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A thought I cannot reach.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="FOR_MUSIC" id="FOR_MUSIC"></a>FOR MUSIC</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Death in the cold grey morning<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came to the man where he lay;</span><br />
+And the wind shivered, and the tree shuddered<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the dawn was grey.</span><br />
+<br />
+And the face of the man was grey in the dawn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the watchers by the bed</span><br />
+Knew, as they heard the shaking of the leaves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the man was dead.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="THE_ROOF" id="THE_ROOF"></a>THE ROOF</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+I<br />
+<br />
+When the clouds hide the sun away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tall slate roof is dull and grey,</span><br />
+And when the rain adown it streams<br />
+'Tis polished lead with pale-blue gleams.<br />
+<br />
+When the clouds vanish and the rain<br />
+Stops, and the sun comes out again,<br />
+It shimmers golden in the sun<br />
+Almost too bright to look upon.<br />
+<br />
+But soon beneath the steady rays<br />
+The roof is dried and reft of blaze,<br />
+'Tis dusty yellow traversed through<br />
+By long thin lines of deepest blue.<br />
+<br />
+Then at the last, as night draws near,<br />
+The lines grow faint and disappear,<br />
+The roof becomes a purple mist<br />
+A great square darkening amethyst<br />
+<br />
+Which sinks into the gathering shade<br />
+Till separate form and colour fade,<br />
+And it is but a patch which mars<br />
+The beauty of a field of stars.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+II<br />
+<br />
+It stands so lonely in the sky<br />
+The sparrows never come anigh,<br />
+The glossy starlings seldom stop<br />
+To preen and chatter on the top.<br />
+<br />
+For a whole week sometimes up there<br />
+No wing-wave stirs the quiet air,<br />
+The roof lies silent and serene<br />
+As though no life had ever been;<br />
+<br />
+Till some bright afternoon, athwart<br />
+The edge two sudden shadows dart,<br />
+And two white pigeons with pink feet<br />
+Flutter above and pitch on it.<br />
+<br />
+Jerking their necks out as they walk<br />
+They talk awhile their pigeon-talk,<br />
+A low continuous murmur blent<br />
+Of mock reproaches and content.<br />
+<br />
+Then cease, and sit there warm and white<br />
+An hour, till in the fading light<br />
+They wake, and know the close of day,<br />
+Flutter above, and fly away,<br />
+<br />
+Leaving the roof whereon they sat<br />
+As 'twas before, a peaceful flat<br />
+Expanse, as silent and serene<br />
+As though no life had ever been.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="TREETOPS" id="TREETOPS"></a>TREETOPS</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+There beyond my window ledge,<br />
+Heaped against the sky a hedge<br />
+Of huge and wavering treetops stands<br />
+With multitudes of fluttering hands.<br />
+<br />
+Wave they, beat they to and fro,<br />
+Never stillness may they know,<br />
+Plunged by the wind and hurled and torn<br />
+Anguished, purposeless, forlorn.<br />
+<br />
+"O ferocious, O despairing,<br />
+In huddled isolation faring<br />
+Through a scattered universe,<br />
+Lost coins from the Almighty's purse!"<br />
+<br />
+"No, below you do not see<br />
+The firm foundations of the tree;<br />
+Anchored to a rock beneath<br />
+We laugh in the hammering tempest's teeth."<br />
+<br />
+"Boughs like men but burgeons are<br />
+On an adamantine star;<br />
+Men are myriad blossoms on<br />
+A staunch and cosmic skeleton."<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="IN_THE_PARK" id="IN_THE_PARK"></a>IN THE PARK</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+This dense hard ground I tread<br />
+These iron bars that ripple past,<br />
+Will they unshaken stand when I am dead<br />
+And my deep thoughts outlast?<br />
+<br />
+Is it my spirit slips,<br />
+Falls, like this leaf I kick aside;<br />
+This firmness that I feel about my lips,<br />
+Is it but empty pride?<br />
+<br />
+Mute knowledge conquers me;<br />
+I contemplate them as they are,<br />
+Faint earth and shadowy bars that shake and flee,<br />
+Less hard, more transient far<br />
+<br />
+Than those unbodied hues<br />
+The sunset flings on the calm river;<br />
+And, as I look, a swiftness thrills my shoes<br />
+And my hands with empire quiver.<br />
+<br />
+Now light the ground I tread,<br />
+I walk not now but rather float;<br />
+Clear but unreal is the scene outspread,<br />
+Pitiful, thin, remote.<br />
+<br />
+Poor vapour is the grass,<br />
+So frail the trees and railings seem,<br />
+That, did I sweep my hand around, 'twould pass<br />
+Through them, as in a dream.<br />
+<br />
+Godlike I fear no changes;<br />
+Shatter the world with thunders loud,<br />
+Still would I ray-like flit about the ranges<br />
+Of dark and ruddy cloud.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="SONG" id="SONG"></a>SONG</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+There is a wood where the fairies dance<br />
+All night long in a ring of mushrooms daintily,<br />
+By each tree bole sits a squirrel or a mole,<br />
+And the moon through the branches darts.<br />
+<br />
+Light on the grass their slim limbs glance,<br />
+Their shadows in the moonlight swing in quiet unison,<br />
+And the moon discovers that they all have lovers,<br />
+But they never break their hearts.<br />
+<br />
+They never grieve at all for sands that run,<br />
+They never know regret for a deed that's done,<br />
+And they never think of going to a shed with a gun<br />
+At the rising of the sun.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="TOWN" id="TOWN"></a>TOWN</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Mostly in a dull rotation<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We bear our loads and eat and drink and sleep,</span><br />
+Feeling no tears, knowing no meditation&mdash;<br />
+Too tired to think, too clogged with earth to weep.<br />
+<br />
+Dimly convinced, poor groping wretches,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like eyeless insects in a murky pond</span><br />
+That out and out this city stretches,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away, away, and there is no beyond.</span><br />
+<br />
+No larger earth, no loftier heaven,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No cleaner, gentler airs to breathe. And yet,</span><br />
+Even to us sometimes is given<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Visions of things we otherwhiles forget.</span><br />
+<br />
+Some day is done, its labour ended,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And as we brood at windows high,</span><br />
+A steady wind from far descended,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blows off the filth that hid the deeper sky;</span><br />
+<br />
+There are the empty waiting spaces,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We watch, we watch, unwinking, pale and dumb,</span><br />
+Till gliding up with noiseless paces<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Night sweeps o'er all the wide arch: Night has come.</span><br />
+<br />
+Not that sick false night of the city,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lurid and low and yellow and obscene,</span><br />
+But mother Night, pure, full of pity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The star-strewn Night, blue, potent and serene.</span><br />
+<br />
+O, as we gaze the clamour ceases,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The turbid world around grows dim and small,</span><br />
+The soft-shed influence releases<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our shrouded spirits from their dusty pall.</span><br />
+<br />
+No more we hear the turbulent traffic,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not scorned but unremembered is the day;</span><br />
+The Night, all luminous and seraphic,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has brushed its heavy memories away.</span><br />
+<br />
+The great blue Night so clear and kindly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little stars so wide-eyed and so still,</span><br />
+Open a door for souls that blindly<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had wandered, tunnelling the endless hill;</span><br />
+<br />
+They draw the long-untraversed portal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our souls slip out and tremble and expand,</span><br />
+The immortal feels for the immortal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The eternal holds the eternal by the hand.</span><br />
+<br />
+Impalpably we are led and lifted,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Softly we shake into the gulf of blue,</span><br />
+The last environing veil is rifted<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lost horizons float into our view.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lost lands, lone seas, lands that afar gleam<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a miraculous beauty, faint yet clear,</span><br />
+Forgotten lands of night and star-gleam,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seas that are somewhere but that are not here.</span><br />
+<br />
+Borne without effort or endeavour,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swifter and more ethereal than the wind,</span><br />
+In level track we stream, whilst ever<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fair pale panorama rolls behind.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now fleets below a trancèd moorland,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A sweep of glimmering immobility;</span><br />
+Now craggy cliff and dented foreland<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pass back and there beyond unfolds the sea.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now wastes of water heaving, drawing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great darkling tracts of patterned restlessness,</span><br />
+With whitened waves round rough rocks mawing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And licking islands in their fierce caress.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now coasts with capes and ribboned beaches<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Set silent 'neath the canopy sapphirine,</span><br />
+And estuaries and river reaches<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Phantasmal silver in the night's soft shine.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="hra" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+Ah, these fair woods the spirit crosses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These quiet lakes, these stretched dreaming fields,</span><br />
+These undulate downs with piny bosses<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pointing the ridges of their sloping shields.</span><br />
+<br />
+These valleys and these heights that screen them,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These tawnier sands where grass and tree are not,</span><br />
+Ah, we have known them, we have seen them<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Long, long ago or ever we forgot;</span><br />
+<br />
+We know them all, these placid countries,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what the pathway is and what the goal;</span><br />
+These are the gates and these the sentries<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That guard the ancient fortress of the soul.</span><br />
+<br />
+And onward speed we flying, flying,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over the sundering worlds of hill and plain</span><br />
+To where they rear their heads undying<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The unnamed mountains of old days again.</span><br />
+<br />
+The snows upon their calm still summits,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The chasms, the lines of trees that foot the snow,</span><br />
+Curving like inky frozen comets,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into the forest-ocean spread below.</span><br />
+<br />
+The glisten where the peaks are hoarest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The soundless darkness of the sunken vales,</span><br />
+The folding leagues of shadowy forest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wave beyond wave till all distinctness fails.</span><br />
+<br />
+So invulnerable it is, so deathless,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So floods the air the loveliness of it,</span><br />
+That we stay dazzled, rapt and breathless,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our beings ebbing to the infinite.</span><br />
+<br />
+There as we pause, there as we hover,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Moveless in ecstasy, a sudden light</span><br />
+Breaks in our eyes, and we discover<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We sit at windows gazing to the night.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wistful and tired, with eyes a-tingle<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where still the sting of Beauty faintly smarts,</span><br />
+But with our mute regrets there mingle<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thanks for the resurrection of our hearts.</span><br />
+<br />
+O night so great that will not mock us!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O stars so wise that understand the weak!</span><br />
+O vast consoling hands that rock us!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O strong and perfect tongues that speak!</span><br />
+<br />
+O night enrobed in azure splendour!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O whispering stars whose radiance falls like dew!</span><br />
+O mighty presences and tender,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You have given us back the dreams our childhood knew!</span><br />
+<br />
+Lulled by your visions without number,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We seek our beds content and void of pain,</span><br />
+And dreaming drowse and dreaming slumber<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dreaming wake to see the day again.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="A_MEMORIAL" id="A_MEMORIAL"></a>A MEMORIAL</b><br />
+<br />
+(F.T.)<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+The cord broke, and the tent<br />
+Slipped, and the silken roof<br />
+Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof<br />
+Of the deliberate firmament.<br />
+Yet cared we not; how should we care?<br />
+Knowing that labourless now he breathes<br />
+A golden paradisal air<br />
+Where with more certain craft he wreathes<br />
+Bright braids of words more wise and fair<br />
+Than ever his earthly fabrics were,<br />
+That his unwavering eyes made fresh,<br />
+Purged and regarbed in fadeless flesh,<br />
+What he then darkly guessed behold,<br />
+And watch with an abiding joy<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The eternal mysteries unfold</span><br />
+Which do his now transfigured songs evermore employ.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brother, yet great thy power;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou stood'st as on a tower</span><br />
+Small 'neath the stars yet high above the fields;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In thy alembic song</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Imagination strong</span><br />
+Distilled what essences the quest to mortals yields.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This thy reward well-won,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For every morning's sun</span><br />
+Found thy heart's firm allegiance still unshaken;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No temporal ache or smart</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Drave Beauty from thy heart,</span><br />
+And by thy mighty mistress never wast forsaken.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yes; for though stringent was the test,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When that thy trial was bitterest,</span><br />
+Steadfast thou did'st remain; unshod<br />
+The harrows of Pain thy feet once trod,<br />
+Humiliate as thy sad song tells<br />
+Before the vault's white sentinels.<br />
+Friendless and faint thou sojourned'st there,<br />
+A bowed, brave, timid wanderer,<br />
+A lonely nomad of the spirit,<br />
+Who did a triple curse inherit,<br />
+Hunger, regret and memory.<br />
+Yet never did they vanquish thee;<br />
+When nighest broken, most alone,<br />
+Thy unassuagèd thoughts could clamber<br />
+To beauty on her ageless throne;<br />
+Thou wert as one in torture chamber<br />
+Who sees the blue through an open casement<br />
+And hammers his soul to endure the time<br />
+Of his corporeal abasement;<br />
+Nor writhed'st at thine or others' fault,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But with grim tenderness did salt</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy cicatrices with a rhyme.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not the most sable flame of gloom</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Could penetrate thy inmost room;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But through the walls thy spirit sucked</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Into that cloistral hermitage</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Stray lovely things, moonbeams and snows</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The far sky shed into thy cage,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, from the very gutter plucked,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A lost and mired campestral rose.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ended that purgatorial period,<br />
+Filled was thy wallet and thy feet were shod,<br />
+The leaden weights were moved, the rack withdrawn,<br />
+Thou didst traverse the dewy fields of dawn,<br />
+Watch sunsets blazoning over upland turf,<br />
+Pull poppies from the frontiers of the surf,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dwelled'st with love and human eyes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Vigilant, calm and wise.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But still as when thy bark did ride</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Derelict on the city's tide,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As then for penury now for pride</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy bodily senses were denied;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Though they cried out and would not sleep,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ascetic thou didst armour them</span><br />
+Lest acid pleasure should eat thine art's pure gem.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hourly the tempter's ambuscades</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But thou didst guard the gates and keep</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy senses' hungry colonnades</span><br />
+Accessible but to Beauty's ministers,<br />
+Unlit by any ruby flame but hers.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Immuring so thy spirit eager</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Within a body frail and meagre,</span><br />
+Far from the meads of earthly milk and honey,<br />
+Yet franchised of more wondrous territories,<br />
+Like those poor Bedouin of Arabia the Stony<br />
+Who roam spare-fed and hollow-eyed but free<br />
+By day to wander and by night to camp<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In vast serenity,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Compassed by God's great silent glories</span><br />
+The sun's gold splendour and the moon's white lamp,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Folded and safe from harm</span><br />
+Beneath the mighty sky's protecting arm.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ha! but the Titan's ardour</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wherewith thou scour'dst the vast,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To spoil the starry larder</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of fruits of heavenly taste!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Urania's fiercest servant,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With thirst as furnace fervent</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And serene burning brow,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Worthy of thy great lineage, thou</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Drankest without a shudder</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In proud humility</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Milk from that vast primæval udder</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That swells for such as thee,</span><br />
+Milk from the fountains of the Universe<br />
+That cowards deem infected with a curse,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That flushes him who drinks</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor shrinks</span><br />
+The exalted anguish of diurnal draughts<br />
+To a clear vision, more intolerable<br />
+In its blissful pain, than love's most ardent shafts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of the seats where she doth dwell,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She, whom thou didst confess</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Enticed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thee hot to her throne to press</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For the greater glory of Christ</span><br />
+To uplift the curtains of her closed eyes.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not all was for thy learning</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor any mortal's else;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Only for thy discerning</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sporadic syllables</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of those supernal glances</span><br />
+Coffer of which her marble countenance is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet vain was not the adventure,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Reluctant though the prize,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou gainedst a debenture</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On the fringe of Beauty's eyes;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Such fragmentary trophy</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As some cross-tunic'd knight</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From Saladin or Sophy</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">May have won in sword's despite,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not the dear polar shrines</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Held captive by the Paynim</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But still as fruit of wars</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some stone from Sion's lines,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some relic that might sain him</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of life's uncounted scars.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Self-dedicated anchorite,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Never disdainful of the dust,</span><br />
+But conscious of the overcoming night<br />
+That must engulph the blooms and berries of lust,<br />
+And unforgetful of the enveloping day beyond;<br />
+Though a sweet show was spread for thy delight<br />
+Resolved not to be so fond<br />
+As, in ephemeral gauds caparisoned,<br />
+To station feet upon a world of vapour<br />
+Soft as a dream and fleeting as a taper;<br />
+Thou thoughtest nevertheless that thou shouldst occupy<br />
+Thyself, as it seemed to thee, most worthily<br />
+Until the rapid hour when thou shouldst die;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So, in a world of seemings,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of shadows and of dreamings,</span><br />
+Busied thyself to fashion and record<br />
+Unto the greater glory of thy Lord,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For thy proud lady Beauty His</span><br />
+Most excellent and humble handmaid is.<br />
+Says one thy service was too ceremonial,<br />
+Thy vestments irised overmuch, thy ritual<br />
+Too elaborate and thy rubric too obscure,<br />
+Therefore thy gift of chant and orison<br />
+Beneath the perfect service men have done.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O but thy notes were pure,</span><br />
+And in a day like this we now endure<br />
+No fault it was in thee to set thy camp<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Remote, aloof, aloof,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In a far fastness proof</span><br />
+'Gainst the mephitic odours of the swamp.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which being so, no gain</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Twere to explain</span><br />
+An exquisiteness too meticulous;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let us but say it pleased thee thus,</span><br />
+Dowered with imagination heavy-fruited,<br />
+To raise a column garlanded and fluted<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For Him thy heavenly abacus.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This was thine offering thou didst make</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In founded hope that He</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The craftsman's best would take</span><br />
+Well knowing its unobscure sincerity.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The cord broke and the tent</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Slipped and the silken roof</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of the deliberate firmament.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We still in this terrene abode</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Forlorn must tread the difficult road,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And all meek thanks and all belief</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hardly suffice to rampart grief.</span><br />
+For gone is Beauty's votary apostolic<br />
+And are her temples now delivered over<br />
+To blindworms and libidinous goats that frolic<br />
+In places hallowed by that celestial lover.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Save only two or three</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With undivided minds like thee,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">None now remains that girds</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The peregrinal loin,</span><br />
+None reverent of Beauty's holy tongue,<br />
+But counterfeiters of her imaged coin,<br />
+Iconoclasts, breakers of carven words,<br />
+Seekers of worthless treasure in the dung,<br />
+Mock mages and cacophonous charlatans,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And pismire artisans</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Labouring to make</span><br />
+Such mirrored replicas of Nature's face<br />
+As might the surface of a stagnant lake.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet we should anger not,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor let that be forgot,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The testament of stateliest worth</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He left us when he fled the earth.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The mausoleum made of rhyme,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fair in its unfrequented field,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which shall invulnerably shield</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His memory to the end of Time;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The house with curtain-flaming halls</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And roof of gold and jewelled walls</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For which the fisher sank his net</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Into the deepest pools of speech,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Scooping rich conchs and ribbons wet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That a less venturous could not reach,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The hunter tracked the metaphor</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On many a foamy silver coast</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A hundred leagues beyond the most</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fabulous Tellurian shore.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Magnificent he was and mild,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Glad to be still and glad to speak,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Daring yet delicate as a child,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Faithful, compassionate and holy,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, being human, strong and weak,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And full of hope and melancholy.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No more than we, able to shed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Man's nature he inherited,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Neither sin's garrison to kill,</span><br />
+Yet at the last with constancy so great<br />
+As the world's vanities to abnegate,<br />
+Sternly to will the sacrifice of will<br />
+Upon the altars of the Uncreate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So that he lived before he died</span><br />
+As one who hourly to himself denied<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All joys save those that cannot pall,</span><br />
+Who having nothing yet had all.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="FRIENDSHIPS_GARLAND" id="FRIENDSHIPS_GARLAND"></a>FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+I<br />
+<br />
+When I was a boy there was a friend of mine,<br />
+We thought ourselves warriors and grown folk swine,<br />
+Stupid old animals who never understood<br />
+And never had an impulse and said "you must be good."<br />
+<br />
+We slank like stoats and fled like foxes,<br />
+We put cigarettes in the pillar-boxes,<br />
+Lighted cigarettes and letters all aflame&mdash;<br />
+O the surprise when the postman came!<br />
+<br />
+We stole eggs and apples and made fine hay<br />
+In people's houses when people were away,<br />
+We broke street lamps and away we ran,<br />
+Then I was a boy but now I am a man.<br />
+<br />
+Now I am a man and don't have any fun,<br />
+I hardly ever shout and I never never run,<br />
+And I don't care if he's dead that friend of mine,<br />
+For then I was a boy and now I am a swine.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+II<br />
+<br />
+We met again the other night<br />
+With people; you were quite polite,<br />
+Shook my hand and spoke awhile<br />
+Of common things with cautious smile;<br />
+Paid the usual debt men owe<br />
+To fellows whom they used to know.<br />
+But, when our eyes met full, yours dropped,<br />
+And sudden, resolute, you stopped,<br />
+Moving with hurried syllables<br />
+To make remarks to some one else.<br />
+I caught them not, to me they said:<br />
+"Let the dead past bury its dead,<br />
+Things were very different then,<br />
+Boys are fools and men are men."<br />
+Several times the other night<br />
+You did your best to be polite;<br />
+When in the conversation's round<br />
+You heard my tongue's familiar sound<br />
+You bent in eager pose my way<br />
+To hear what I had got to say;<br />
+Trying, you thought with some success,<br />
+To hide the chasm's nakedness.<br />
+But on your eyes hard films there lay;<br />
+No mock-interest, no pretence<br />
+Could veil your blank indifference;<br />
+And if thoughts came recalling things<br />
+Far-off, far-off, from those old springs<br />
+When underneath the moon and sun<br />
+Our separate pulses beat as one,<br />
+Vagrant tender thoughts that asked<br />
+Admittance found the portal masked;<br />
+You spurned them; when I'd said my say,<br />
+With laugh and nod you turned away<br />
+To toss your friends some easy jest<br />
+That smote my brow and stabbed my breast.<br />
+Foolish though it be and vain<br />
+I am not master of my pain,<br />
+And when I said good-night to you<br />
+I hoped we should not meet again,<br />
+And wondered how the soul I knew<br />
+Could change so much; have I changed too?<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+III<br />
+<br />
+There was a man whom I knew well<br />
+Whose choice it was to live in hell;<br />
+Reason there was why that was so<br />
+But what it was I do not know.<br />
+<br />
+He had a room high in a tower,<br />
+And sat there drinking hour by hour,<br />
+Drinking, drinking all alone<br />
+With candles and a wall of stone.<br />
+<br />
+Now and then he sobered down,<br />
+And stayed a night with me in town.<br />
+If he found me with a crowd,<br />
+He shrank and did not speak aloud.<br />
+<br />
+He sat in a corner silently,<br />
+And others of the company<br />
+Would note his curious face and eye,<br />
+His twitching face and timid eye.<br />
+<br />
+When they saw the eye he had<br />
+They thought perhaps that he was mad.<br />
+I knew he was clear and sane<br />
+But had a horror in his brain.<br />
+<br />
+He had much money and one friend<br />
+And drank quite grimly to the end.<br />
+Why he chose to die in hell<br />
+I did not ask, he did not tell.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="LINES" id="LINES"></a>LINES</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+When London was a little town<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lean by the river's marge,</span><br />
+The poet paced it with a frown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He thought it very large.</span><br />
+<br />
+He loved bright ship and pointing steeple<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bridge with houses loaded</span><br />
+And priests and many-coloured people ...<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But ah, they were not woaded!</span><br />
+<br />
+Not all the walls could shed the spell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of meres and marshes green,</span><br />
+Nor any chaffering merchant tell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The beauty that had been:</span><br />
+<br />
+The crying birds at fall of night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fisher in his coracle,</span><br />
+And grim on Ludgate's windy height,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An oak-tree and an oracle.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sick for the past his hair he rent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dropt a tear in season;</span><br />
+If he had cause for his lament<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We have much better reason.</span><br />
+<br />
+For now the fields and paths he knew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are coffined all with bricks,</span><br />
+The lucid silver stream he knew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Runs slimy as the Styx;</span><br />
+<br />
+North and south and east and west,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far as the eye can travel,</span><br />
+Earth with a sombre web is drest<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That nothing can unravel.</span><br />
+<br />
+And we must wear as black a frown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wail with as keen a woe</span><br />
+That London was a little town<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Five hundred years ago.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="hra" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+Yet even this place of steamy stir,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This pit of belch and swallow,</span><br />
+With chrism of gold and gossamer<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The elements can hallow.</span><br />
+<br />
+I have a room in Chancery Lane,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">High in a world of wires,</span><br />
+Whence fall the roofs a ragged plain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wooded with many spires.</span><br />
+<br />
+There in the dawns of summer days<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I stand in adoration,</span><br />
+While London's robed in rainbow haze<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gold illumination.</span><br />
+<br />
+The wizard breezes waft the rays<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shot by the waking sun,</span><br />
+A myriad chimneys softly blaze,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A myriad shadows run.</span><br />
+<br />
+Round the wide rim in radiant mist<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The gentle suburbs quiver,</span><br />
+And nearer lies the shining twist<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Thames, a holy river</span><br />
+<br />
+Left and right my vision drifts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By yonder towers I linger,</span><br />
+Where Westminster's cathedral lifts<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its belled Byzantine finger,</span><br />
+<br />
+And here against my perchèd home<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where hold wise converse daily</span><br />
+The loftier and the lesser dome,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">St. Paul's and the Old Bailey.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="ECHOES" id="ECHOES"></a>ECHOES</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+There is a far unfading city<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where bright immortal people are;</span><br />
+Remote from hollow shame and pity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their portals frame no guiding star</span><br />
+But blightless pleasure's moteless rays<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That follow their footsteps as they dance</span><br />
+Long lutanied measures through a maze<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of flower-like song and dalliance.</span><br />
+<br />
+There always glows the vernal sun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There happy birds for ever sing,</span><br />
+There faint perfumèd breezes run<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through branches of eternal spring;</span><br />
+There faces browned and fruit and milk<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And blue-winged words and rose-bloomed kisses</span><br />
+In galleys gowned with gold and silk<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shake on a lake of dainty blisses.</span><br />
+<br />
+Coyness is not, nor bear they thought<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Save of a shining gracious flow,</span><br />
+All natural joys are temperate sought,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For calm desire there they know,</span><br />
+A fire promiscuous, languorous, kind;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They scorn all fiercer lusts and quarrels,</span><br />
+Nor blow about on anger's wind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor burn with love, nor rust with morals.</span><br />
+<br />
+Folk in the far unfading city,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Burning with lusts my senses are,</span><br />
+I am torn with love and shame and pity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be to my heart a guiding star</span><br />
+Wise youths and maidens in the sun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With eyes that charm and lips that sing,</span><br />
+And gentle arms that rippling run,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shed on my heart your endless spring!</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="THE_FUGITIVE" id="THE_FUGITIVE"></a>THE FUGITIVE</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Flying his hair and his eyes averse,<br />
+Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.<br />
+How could we clear his charms rehearse?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+High on a down we found him last,<br />
+Shy as a hare, he fled as fast;<br />
+How could we clasp him or ever he passed?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+How could we cling to his limbs that shone,<br />
+Ravish his cheeks' red gonfalon,<br />
+Or the wild-skin cloak that he had on?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+For the wind of his feet still straightly shaping,<br />
+He loosed at our breasts from his eyes escaping<br />
+One crooked swift glance like a javelin leaping.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+And his feet passed over the sunset land<br />
+From the place forlorn where a forlorn band<br />
+Watching him flying we still did stand.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+Vanishing now who would not stay<br />
+To the blue hills on the verge of day.<br />
+O soft! soft! Music play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Fading away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">(Fleet are his feet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">And his heart apart)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Fading away.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="IN_AN_ORCHARD" id="IN_AN_ORCHARD"></a>IN AN ORCHARD</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Airy and quick and wise<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the shed light of the sun,</span><br />
+You clasp with friendly eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thoughts from mine that run.</span><br />
+<br />
+But something breaks the link;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I solitary stand</span><br />
+By a giant gully's brink<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In some vast gloomy land.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sole central watcher, I<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With steadfast sadness now</span><br />
+In that waste place descry<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Neath the awful heavens how</span><br />
+<br />
+Your life doth dizzy drop<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A little foam of flame</span><br />
+From a peak without a top<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To a pit without a name.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="IN_A_CHAIR" id="IN_A_CHAIR"></a>IN A CHAIR</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+He room is full of the peace of night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The small flames murmur and flicker and sway,</span><br />
+Within me is neither shadow, nor light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor night, nor twilight, nor dawn, nor day.</span><br />
+<br />
+For the brain strives not to the goal of thought,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the limbs lie wearied, and all desire</span><br />
+Sleeps for a while, and I am naught<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But a pair of eyes that gaze at a fire.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="A_DAY" id="A_DAY"></a>A DAY</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+I. MORNING<br />
+<br />
+The village fades away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where I last night came</span><br />
+Where they housed me and fed me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never asked my name.</span><br />
+<br />
+The sun shines bright, my step is light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I, who have no abode,</span><br />
+Jeer at the stuck, monotonous<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Black posts along the road.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+II. MIDDAY<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The wood is still,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">As here I sit</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">My heart drinks in</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The peace of it.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A something stirs</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">I know not where</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Some quiet spirit</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">In the air.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">O tall straight stems!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">O cool deep green!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">O hand unfelt!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">O face unseen!</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+III. EVENING<br />
+<br />
+The evening closes in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As down this last long lane</span><br />
+I plod; there patter round<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">First heavy drops of rain.</span><br />
+<br />
+Feet ache, legs ache, but now<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Step quickens as I think</span><br />
+Of mounds of bread and cheese<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And something hot to drink.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+IV. NIGHT<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! sleep is sweet, but yet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">I will not sleep awhile</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Nor for a space forget</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The toil of that last mile;</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">But lie awake and feel</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The cool sheets' tremulous kisses</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">O'er all my body steal ...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Is sleep as sweet as this is?</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="THE_MIND_OF_MAN" id="THE_MIND_OF_MAN"></a>THE MIND OF MAN</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+I<br />
+<br />
+Beneath my skull-bone and my hair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Covered like a poisonous well,</span><br />
+There is a land: if you looked there<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What you saw you'd quail to tell.</span><br />
+You that sit there smiling, you<br />
+Know that what I say is true.<br />
+<br />
+My head is very small to touch,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I feel it all from front to back,</span><br />
+An eared round that weighs not much,<br />
+Eyes, nose-holes, and a pulpy crack:<br />
+Oh, how small, how small it is!<br />
+How could countries be in this?<br />
+<br />
+Yet, when I watch with eyelids shut,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It glimmers forth, now dark, now clear,</span><br />
+The city of Cis-Occiput,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The marshes and the writhing mere,</span><br />
+The land that every man I see<br />
+Knows in himself but not in me.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+II<br />
+<br />
+Upon the borders of the weald<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(I walk there first when I step in)</span><br />
+Set in green wood and smiling field,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The city stands, unstained of sin;</span><br />
+White thoughts and wishes pure<br />
+Walk the streets with steps demure.<br />
+<br />
+In its clean groves and spacious halls<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The quiet-eyed inhabitants</span><br />
+Hold innocent sunny festivals<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mingle in decorous dance;</span><br />
+Things that destroy, distort, deface,<br />
+Come never to that lovely place.<br />
+<br />
+Never could evil enter thither,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It could not live in that sweet air,</span><br />
+The shadow of an ill deed must wither<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fall away to nothing there.</span><br />
+You would say as there you stand<br />
+That all was beauty in the land.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="hra" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+But go you out beyond the gateway,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cleave you the woods and pass the plain,</span><br />
+Cross you the frontier down, and straightway<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The trees will end, the grass will wane,</span><br />
+And you will come to a wilderness<br />
+Of sticks and parchèd barrenness.<br />
+<br />
+The middle of the land is this,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A tawny desert midmost set,</span><br />
+Barren of living things it is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saving at night some vampires flit</span><br />
+That nest them in the farther marish<br />
+Where all save vilest things must perish.<br />
+<br />
+Here in this reedy marsh of green<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And oily pools, swarm insects fat</span><br />
+And birds of prey and beasts obscene,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Things that the traveller shudders at,</span><br />
+All cunning things that creep and fly<br />
+To suck men's blood until they die.<br />
+<br />
+Rarely from hence does aught escape<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into the world of outer light,</span><br />
+But now and then some sable shape<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Outward will dash in sudden flight;</span><br />
+And men stand stonied or distraught<br />
+To know the loathly deed or thought.<br />
+<br />
+But, ah! beyond the marsh you reach<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A purulent place more vile than all,</span><br />
+A festering lake too foul for speech,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rotten and black, with coils acrawl,</span><br />
+Where writhe with lecherous squeakings shrill<br />
+Horrors that make the heart stand still.<br />
+<br />
+There, 'neath a heaven diseased, it lies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The mere alive with slimy worms,</span><br />
+With perverse terrible infamies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And murders and repulsive forms</span><br />
+That have no name, but slide here deep<br />
+Whilst I, their holder, silence keep.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="A_REASONABLE_PROTESTATION" id="A_REASONABLE_PROTESTATION"></a>A REASONABLE PROTESTATION</b><br />
+<br />
+[To F., who complained of his vagueness and lack of<br />
+dogmatic statement]<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Not, I suppose, since I deny<br />
+Appearance is reality,<br />
+And doubt the substance of the earth<br />
+Does your remonstrance come to birth;<br />
+Not that at once I both affirm<br />
+'Tis not the skin that makes the worm<br />
+And every tactile thing with mass<br />
+Must find its symbol in the grass<br />
+And with a cool conviction say<br />
+Even a critic's more than clay<br />
+And every dog outlives his day.<br />
+This kind of vagueness suits your view,<br />
+You would not carp at it; for you<br />
+Did never stand with those who take<br />
+Their pleasures in a world opaque.<br />
+For you a tree would never be<br />
+Lovely were it but a tree,<br />
+And earthly splendours never splendid<br />
+If by transience unattended.<br />
+Your eyes are on a farther shore<br />
+Than any of earth; you not adore<br />
+As godhead God's dead hieroglyph,<br />
+Nor would you be perturbed if<br />
+Some prophet with a voice of thunder<br />
+And avalanche arm should blast and founder<br />
+The logical pillars that maintain<br />
+This visible world which loads the brain,<br />
+Loads the brain and withers the heart<br />
+And holds man from his God apart.<br />
+<br />
+But still with you remains the craving<br />
+For some more solid substance, having<br />
+Surface to touch, colour to see,<br />
+And form compact in symmetry.<br />
+You are not satisfied with these<br />
+Vague throbbings, utterless ecstasies,<br />
+Void finds your spirit of delight<br />
+This great indefinite white light,<br />
+Not with such sickles can you reap;<br />
+If a dense earth you cannot keep<br />
+You want a dense heaven as substitute<br />
+With trees of plump celestial fruit,<br />
+Red apples, golden pomegranates,<br />
+And a river flowing by tall gates<br />
+Of topaz and of chrysolite<br />
+And walls of twenty cubits height.<br />
+<br />
+Frank, you cry out against the age!<br />
+Nor you nor I can disengage<br />
+Ourselves from that in which we live<br />
+Nor seize on things God does not give.<br />
+Thirsty as you, perhaps, I long<br />
+For courtyards of eternal song,<br />
+Even as yours my feet would stray<br />
+In a city where 'tis always day<br />
+And a green spontaneous leafy garden<br />
+With God in the middle for a warden;<br />
+But though I trust with strengthening faith<br />
+I'll taste when I have traversed death<br />
+The unimaginable sweetness<br />
+Of certitude of such concreteness,<br />
+How should I draw the hue and scope<br />
+Of substances I only hope<br />
+Or blaze upon a mortal screen<br />
+The evidence of things not seen?<br />
+This art of ours but grows and stirs<br />
+Experience when it registers,<br />
+And you know well as I know well<br />
+This autumn of time in which we dwell<br />
+Is not an age of revelations<br />
+Solid as once, but intimations<br />
+That touch us with warm misty fingers<br />
+Leaving a nameless sense that lingers<br />
+That sight is blind and Time's a snare<br />
+And earth less solid than the air<br />
+And deep below all seeming things<br />
+There sits a steady king of kings<br />
+A radiant ageless permanence,<br />
+A quenchless fount of virtue whence<br />
+We draw our life; a sense that makes<br />
+A staunch conviction nothing shakes<br />
+Of our own immortality.<br />
+And though, being man, with certain glee<br />
+I eat and drink, though I suffer pain,<br />
+And love and hate and love again<br />
+Well or in mode contemptible,<br />
+Thus shackled by the body's spell<br />
+I see through pupils of the beast<br />
+Though it be faint and blurred with mist<br />
+A Star that travels in the East.<br />
+<br />
+I see what I can, not what I will<br />
+In things that move, things that are still,<br />
+Thin motion, even cloudier rest,<br />
+I see the symbols God hath drest<br />
+The moveless trees, the trees that wave<br />
+The clouds that heavenly highways have,<br />
+Horses that run, rocks that are fixt,<br />
+Streams that have rest and motion mixt,<br />
+The main with its abiding flux,<br />
+The wind that up my chimney sucks<br />
+A mounting waterfall of flame,<br />
+Sticks, straws, dust, beetles and that same<br />
+Old blazing sun the Psalmist saw<br />
+A testifier to the law.<br />
+Divinely to the heart they speak<br />
+Saying how they are but weak<br />
+Wan will o' the wisps o'er the crystal sea;<br />
+But stays that sea still dark to me.<br />
+<br />
+Did I now glibly insolent<br />
+Chart the ulterior firmament,<br />
+Would you not know my words were lies,<br />
+Where not my testimonial eyes<br />
+Mortal or spiritual lodge,<br />
+Mere uncorroborated fudge?<br />
+Praise me, though praise I do not want,<br />
+Rather, that I have cast much cant,<br />
+That what I see and feel I write<br />
+Read what I can in this dim light<br />
+Granted to me in nether night.<br />
+And though I am vague and shrink to guess<br />
+God's everlasting purposes,<br />
+And never save in perplext dream<br />
+Have caught the least authentic gleam<br />
+Of the great kingdom and the throne<br />
+In the world that lies behind our own,<br />
+I have not lacked my certainties,<br />
+I have not haggard moaned the skies,<br />
+Now waged unnecessary strife<br />
+Nor scorned nor overvalued life.<br />
+And though you say my attitude<br />
+Is questioning, concede my mood<br />
+Does never bring to tongue or pen<br />
+Accents of gloomy modern men<br />
+Who wail or hail the death of God<br />
+And weigh and measure man the clod,<br />
+Or say they draw reluctant breath<br />
+And musically mourn that Death<br />
+Is a queen omnipotent of woe<br />
+And Life her lean cicisbeo,<br />
+Abject and pale, whom vampire-like<br />
+She playeth with ere she shall strike,<br />
+And pose sad riddles to the Sphinx<br />
+With raven quills in purple inks,...<br />
+Then send the boy to fetch more drinks.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Than farthest stars more distant,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A mile more,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A mile more,</span><br />
+A voice cries on insistent:<br />
+"You may smile more if you will;<br />
+<br />
+"You may sing too and spring too;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But numb at last</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And dumb at last,</span><br />
+Whatever port you cling to,<br />
+You must come at last to a hill.<br />
+<br />
+"And never a man you'll find there<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To take your hand</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And shake your hand;</span><br />
+But when you go behind there<br />
+You must make your hand a sword<br />
+<br />
+"To fence with a foeman swarthy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And swink there</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor shrink there,</span><br />
+Though cowardly and worthy<br />
+Must drink there one reward."<br />
+</p>
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<h5>TWELVE TRANSLATIONS</h5>
+<h5>FROM</h5>
+<h5>CHARLES BAUDELAIRE</h5>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+<a name="TOUT_ENTIERE" id="TOUT_ENTIERE"></a><b>TOUT ENTIÈRE</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+This morning in my attic high<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Demon came to visit me,</span><br />
+And seeking faults in my reply,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He said: "I would inquire of thee,</span><br />
+<br />
+"Of all the beauties which compose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her charming body's potent spell,</span><br />
+Of all the objects black and rose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which make the thing you love so well,</span><br />
+<br />
+"Which is the sweetest?" O my soul!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou didst rejoin: "How tell of parts,</span><br />
+When all I know is that the whole<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Works magic in my heart of hearts?</span><br />
+<br />
+"Where all is fair, how should I say<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What single grace is my delight?</span><br />
+She shines on me like break of day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she consoles me as the night.</span><br />
+<br />
+"There flows through all her perfect frame<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A harmony too exquisite</span><br />
+That weak analysis should name<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The numberless accords of it.</span><br />
+<br />
+"O mystic metamorphosis!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My separate senses all are blent;</span><br />
+Within her breath soft music is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in her voice a subtle scent!"</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_ALCHEMY_OF_GRIEF" id="THE_ALCHEMY_OF_GRIEF"></a><b>THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+One, Nature! burns and makes thee bright,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One gives thee weeds to mourn withal;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what to one is burial</span><br />
+Is to the other life and light.<br />
+<br />
+The unknown Hermes who assists<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And alway fills my heart with fear</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes me the mighty Midas' peer</span><br />
+The saddest of the alchemists.<br />
+<br />
+Through him I make gold changeable<br />
+To dross, and paradise to hell;<br />
+Clouds for its corpse-cloths I descry.<br />
+<br />
+A stark dead body I love well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in the gleaming fields on high</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I build immense sarcophagi.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="SPLEEN" id="SPLEEN"></a><b>SPLEEN</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+When the low heavy sky weighs like a lid<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the spirit aching for the light</span><br />
+And all the wide horizon's line is hid<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By a black day sadder than any night;</span><br />
+<br />
+When the changed earth is but a dungeon dank<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where batlike Hope goes blindly fluttering</span><br />
+And, striking wall and roof and mouldered plank,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bruises his tender head and timid wing;</span><br />
+<br />
+When like grim prison-bars stretch down the thin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Straight, rigid pillars of the endless rain,</span><br />
+And the dumb throngs of infamous spiders spin<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their meshes in the caverns of the brain;&mdash;</span><br />
+<br />
+Suddenly, bells leap forth into the air,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hurling a hideous uproar to the sky</span><br />
+As 'twere a band of homeless spirits who fare<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the strange heavens, wailing stubbornly.</span><br />
+<br />
+And hearses, without drum or instrument,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">File slowly through my soul; crushed, sorrowful,</span><br />
+Weeps Hope, and Grief, fierce and omnipotent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Plants his black banner on my drooping skull.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="A_VOYAGE_TO_CYTHERA" id="A_VOYAGE_TO_CYTHERA"></a><b>A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+My heart was like a bird and took to flight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Around the rigging circling joyously;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The ship rolled on beneath a cloudless sky</span><br />
+Like a great angel drunken with the light.<br />
+<br />
+"What is yon isle, sad and funereal?"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Cythera famed in deathless song," said they,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The gay old bachelors' Eldorado-Nay,</span><br />
+Look! 'tis a poor bare country after all!"<br />
+<br />
+Isle of sweet secrets and heart banquetings!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The queenly shade of antique Venus thrills</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Scentlike above thy level seas and fills</span><br />
+Our souls with languor and all amorous things.<br />
+<br />
+Fair isle and of green myrtles and blown flowers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Held holy by all men for evermore,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the faint sighs of spirits that adore</span><br />
+Float like rose-incense through the quiet hours,<br />
+<br />
+And dovelike sounds each murmured orison:&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cythera lay there barren 'neath bright skies,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A rocky waste rent by discordant cries:</span><br />
+Natheless I saw a curious thing thereon.<br />
+<br />
+No shady temple was it, close enshrined<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I' the trees; no flower-crowned priestess hither came</span><br />
+With her young body burnt by secret flame,<br />
+Baring her breast to the caressing wind;<br />
+<br />
+But when so close to the land's edge we drew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our canvas scared the sea-fowl&mdash;gradually</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We knew it for a three-branched gallows tree</span><br />
+Like a black cypress stark against the blue.<br />
+<br />
+A rotten carcase hung, whereon did sit<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A swarm of foul black birds; with writhe and shriek</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each sought to pierce and plunge his knife-like beak</span><br />
+Deep in the bleeding trunk and limbs of it.<br />
+<br />
+The eyes were holes; the belly opened wide<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Streaming its heavy entrails on the thighs;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The grim birds, gorged with dreadful delicacies,</span><br />
+Had dug and furrowed it on every side.<br />
+<br />
+Beneath the blackened feet there strove and pressed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A herd of jealous beasts with upward snout,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in the midst of these there turned about</span><br />
+One, the chief hangman, larger than the rest....<br />
+<br />
+Lone Cytherean! now all silently<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou sufferest these insults to atone</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For those old infamous sins that thou hast known,</span><br />
+The sins that locked the gate o' the grave to thee.<br />
+<br />
+Mine are thy sorrows, ludicrous corse; yea, all<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are mine! I stood thy swaying limbs beneath,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, like a bitter vomit, to my teeth</span><br />
+There rose old shadows in a stream of gall.<br />
+<br />
+O thou unhappy devil, I felt afresh,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gazing at thee, the beaks and jaws of those</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Black savage panthers and those ruthless crows,</span><br />
+Who loved of old to macerate my flesh.<br />
+<br />
+The sea was calm, the sky without a cloud;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Henceforth for me all things that came to pass</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were blood and darkness,&mdash;round my heart, alas!</span><br />
+There clung that allegory, like a shroud.<br />
+<br />
+Naught save mine image on a gibbet thrust<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Found I on Venus island desolate....</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah, God! the courage and strength to contemplate</span><br />
+My body and my heart without disgust.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_CRACKED_BELL" id="THE_CRACKED_BELL"></a><b>THE CRACKED BELL</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+'Tis bitter-sweet, when winter nights are long,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To watch, beside the flames which smoke and twist,</span><br />
+The distant memories which slowly throng,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brought by the chime soft-singing through the mist.</span><br />
+<br />
+Happy the sturdy, vigorous-throated bell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who, spite of age alert and confident,</span><br />
+Cries hourly, like some strong old sentinel<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flinging the ready challenge from his tent.</span><br />
+<br />
+For me, my soul is cracked; when sick with care,<br />
+She strives with songs to people the cold air<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It happens often that her feeble cries</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mock the harsh rattle of a man who lies</span><br />
+Wounded, forgotten, 'neath a mound of slain<br />
+And dies, pinned fast, writhing his limbs in pain.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_OFFENDED_MOON" id="THE_OFFENDED_MOON"></a><b>THE OFFENDED MOON</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+O moon, O lamp of hill and secret dale!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou whom our fathers, ages out of mind,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Worshipped in thy blue heaven, whilst behind</span><br />
+Thy stars streamed after thee a glittering trail,<br />
+<br />
+Dost see the poet, weary-eyed and pale,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or lovers on their happy beds reclined,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Showing white teeth in sleep, or vipers twined,</span><br />
+'Neath the dry sward; or in a golden veil<br />
+<br />
+Stealest thou with faint footfall o'er the grass<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As of old, to kiss from twilight unto dawn</span><br />
+The faded charms of thine Endymion?...<br />
+<br />
+"O child of this sick century, I see<br />
+Thy grey-haired mother leering in her glass<br />
+And plastering the breast that suckled thee!"<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="TO_THEODORE_DE_BANVILLE" id="TO_THEODORE_DE_BANVILLE"></a><b>TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE,</b><br />
+<br />
+<span class="caption">1842</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+So proud your port, your arm so powerful,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With such a grip you grip the goddess' hair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That one might take you, from your casual air,</span><br />
+For a young ruffian flinging down his trull.<br />
+<br />
+Your clear eye flashing with precocity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You have displayed yourself proud architect</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of fabrics so audaciously correct</span><br />
+That we may guess what your ripe prime will be.<br />
+<br />
+Poet, our blood ebbs out through every pore;<br />
+Is it, perchance, the robe the Centaur bore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which made a sullen streamlet of each vein,</span><br />
+<br />
+Was three times dipped within the venom fell<br />
+Of those old reptiles fierce and terrible<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom, in his cradle, Hercules had slain?</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="MUSIC" id="MUSIC"></a><b>MUSIC</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Oft Music, as it were some moving mighty sea,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bears me towards my pale</span><br />
+Star: in clear space, or 'neath a vaporous canopy<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On-floating, I set sail.</span><br />
+<br />
+With heaving chest which strains forward, and lungs outblown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I climb the ridgèd steeps</span><br />
+Of those high-pilèd clouds which 'thwart the night are thrown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Veiling its starry deeps.</span><br />
+<br />
+I suffer all the throes, within my quivering form,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of a great ship in pain,</span><br />
+Now a soft wind, and now the writhings of a storm<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the vasty main</span><br />
+Rock me: at other times a death-like calm, the bare<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mirror of my despair.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_CATS" id="THE_CATS"></a><b>THE CATS</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+The lover and the stern philosopher<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both love, in their ripe time, the confident</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soft cats, the house's chiefest ornament,</span><br />
+Who like themselves are cold and seldom stir.<br />
+<br />
+Of knowledge and of pleasure amorous,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Silence they seek and Darkness' fell domain;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had not their proud souls scorned to brook his rein,</span><br />
+They would have made grim steeds for Erebus.<br />
+<br />
+Pensive they rest in noble attitudes<br />
+Like great stretched sphinxes in vast solitudes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which seem to sleep wrapt in an endless dream;</span><br />
+<br />
+Their fruitful loins are full of sparks divine,<br />
+And gleams of gold within their pupils shine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As 'twere within the shadow of a stream.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_SADNESS_OF_THE_MOON" id="THE_SADNESS_OF_THE_MOON"></a><b>THE SADNESS OF THE MOON</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+This evening the Moon dreams more languidly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a beauty who on mounded cushions rests,</span><br />
+And with her light hand fondles lingeringly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before she sleeps, the slope of her sweet breasts.</span><br />
+<br />
+On her soft satined avalanches' height<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dying, she laps herself for hours and hours</span><br />
+In long, long swoons, and gazes at the white<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Visions which rise athwart the blue like flowers.</span><br />
+<br />
+When sometimes in her perfect indolence<br />
+She lets a furtive tear steal gently thence,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some pious poet, a lone, sleepless one,</span><br />
+<br />
+Takes in his hollowed hand this gem, shot through,<br />
+Like an opal stone, with gleams of every hue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in his heart's depths hides it from the sun.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="MOESTA_ET_ERRABUNDA" id="MOESTA_ET_ERRABUNDA"></a><b>MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA</b><br />
+<br />
+Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Plunged in this squalid city's filthy sea,</span><br />
+For another ocean where the splendours break<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blue, clear, and deep as is virginity.</span><br />
+Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache?<br />
+<br />
+The sea, the sea unending, comforts us!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What demon gave the hoarse old sea who sings</span><br />
+To her mumbling hurricanes' organ thunderous<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The god-like power to cradle sorrowful things?</span><br />
+The sea, the sea unending, comforts us.<br />
+<br />
+Carry me, wagon, bear me, barque, away!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far! Far! For here the mud is made of tears!</span><br />
+Does Agatha's sad heart not sometimes say:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"O far from shudderings and crimes and fears,</span><br />
+Carry me, wagon; bear me barque, away?"<br />
+<br />
+How far thou art, O scented paradise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O paradise where all is love and joy,</span><br />
+Where all is worthy love 'neath the azure skies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the heart drowns in bliss without alloy!</span><br />
+How far thou art, O scented paradise!<br />
+<br />
+But the green paradise of childish loves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The games, the songs, the kisses and the flowers,</span><br />
+The laughing draughts of wine in hidden groves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The violins throbbing through the twilight hours,</span><br />
+&mdash;But the green paradise of childish loves,<br />
+<br />
+The artless paradise of stealthy joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that already leagues beyond Cathay?</span><br />
+And can one, with a little plaintive noise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bring it again that is so far away&mdash;</span><br />
+The artless paradise of stealthy joys?<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_OWLS" id="THE_OWLS"></a><b>THE OWLS</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+'Neath their black yews in solemn state<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The owls are sitting in a row</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like foreign gods; and even so</span><br />
+Blink their red eyes; they meditate.<br />
+<br />
+Quite motionless they hold them thus<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until at last the day is done,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And driving down the slanting sun,</span><br />
+The sad night is victorious.<br />
+<br />
+They teach the wise who gives them ear<br />
+That in this world he most should fear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All things which loud or restless be.</span><br />
+<br />
+Who, dazzled by a passing shade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Follows it, never will be free</span><br />
+Till the dread penalty be paid.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="caption">FINIS</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36620 ***</div>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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+
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+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #36620 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36620)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Three Hills, by 
+John Collings Squire and Charles Baudelaire
+
+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 Three Hills
+       And other Poems
+
+Author: John Collings Squire
+        Charles Baudelaire
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2011 [EBook #36620]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THREE HILLS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marc D'Hooghe & Andrea Ballat http://www.freeliterature.org
+
+
+
+
+THE THREE HILLS
+
+AND OTHER POEMS
+
+BY
+
+J.C. SQUIRE
+
+
+LONDON: HOWARD LATIMER LTD.
+
+GREAT QUEEN STREET, KINGSWAY
+
+MCMXIII
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+FRANCIS BURROWS
+
+
+
+    CONTENTS
+
+    ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION
+    THE THREE HILLS
+    A CHANT
+    ARTEMIS ALTERA
+    STARLIGHT
+    FLORIAN 'S SONG
+    DIALOGUE
+    CREPUSCULAR
+    AT NIGHT
+    FOR MUSIC
+    THE ROOF
+    TREETOPS
+    IN THE PARK
+    SONG
+    TOWN
+    A MEMORIAL
+    FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND--I
+                        --II
+                        --III
+    LINES ON THE EARTHLY PARADISE
+    ECHOES
+    THE FUGITIVE
+    IN THE ORCHARD
+    IN A CHAIR
+    A DAY
+    THE MIND OF MAN
+    A REASONABLE PROTESTATION
+    EPILOGUE
+
+    TWELVE TRANSLATIONS FROM C. BAUDELAIRE
+
+    TOUT ENTIÈRE
+    THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF
+    SPLEEN
+    A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA
+    THE CRACKED BELL
+    THE OFFENDED MOON
+    TO THEODORE BANVILLE, 1842
+    MUSIC
+    THE CATS
+    THE SADNESS OF THE MOON
+    MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA
+    THE OWLS
+
+Many of the above poems have appeared in the "British Review," the
+"Eye-Witness," the "New Witness," the "Oxford and Cambridge Review," the
+"New Statesman," and the "New Age," to the Editors of which thanks are
+due for permission to reprint. Three of the short poems and most of the
+translations are extracted from an earlier volume.
+
+
+
+
+     ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION
+
+
+     As I stand waiting in the rain
+     For the foggy hoot of the London train,
+     Gazing at silent wall and lamp
+     And post and rail and platform damp,
+     What is this power that comes to my sight
+     That I see a night without the night,
+     That I see them clear, yet look them through,
+     The silvery things and the darkly blue,
+     That the solid wall seems soft as death,
+     A wavering and unanchored wraith,
+     And rails that shine and stones that stream
+     Unsubstantial as a dream?
+     What sudden door has opened so,
+     What hand has passed, that I should know
+     This moving vision not of trance
+     That melts the globe of circumstance,
+     This sight that marks not least or most
+     And makes a stone a passing ghost?
+
+     Is it that a year ago
+     I stood upon this self-same spot;
+     Is it that since a year ago
+     The place and I have altered not;
+     Is it that I half forgot,
+     A year ago, and all despised
+     For a space the things that I had prized:
+     The race of life, the glittering show?
+     Is it that now a year has passed
+     Of vain pursuit of glittering things,
+     Of fruitless searching, shouting, running,
+     And greedy lies and candour cunning,
+     Here as I stand the year above
+     Sudden the heats and the strivings fail
+     And fall away, a fluctuant veil,
+     And the fixed familiar stones restore
+     The old appearance-buried core,
+     The moveless and essential me,
+     The eternal personality
+     Alone enduring first and last?
+
+     No, this I have known in other ways,
+     In other places, other days.
+     Not only here, on this one peak,
+     Do fixity and beauty speak
+     Of the delusiveness of change,
+     Of the transparency of form,
+     The bootless stress of minds that range,
+     The awful calm behind the storm.
+     In many places, many days,
+     The invaded soul receives the rays
+     Of countries she was nurtured in,
+     Speaks in her silent language strange
+     To that beyond which is her kin.
+     Even in peopled streets at times
+     A metaphysic arm is thrust
+     Through the partitioning fabric thin,
+     And tears away the darkening pall
+     Cast by the bright phenomenal,
+     And clears the obscured spirit's mirror
+     From shadows of deceptive error,
+     And shows the bells and all their ringing,
+     And all the crowds and all their singing,
+     Carillons that are nothing's chimes
+     And dust that is not even dust....
+     But rarely hold I converse thus
+     Where shapes are bright and clamorous,
+     More often comes the word divine
+     In places motionless and far;
+     Beneath the white peculiar shine
+     Of sunless summer afternoons;
+     At eventide on pale lagoons
+     Where hangs reflected one pale star;
+     Or deep in the green solitudes
+     Of still erect entrancèd woods.
+
+     O, in the woods alone lying,
+     Scarce a bough in the wind sighing,
+     Gaze I long with fervid power
+     At leaf and branch and grass and flower,
+     Breathe I breaths of trembling sight
+     Shed from great urns of green delight,
+     Take I draughts and drink them up
+     Poured from many a stalk and cup.
+     Now do I burn for nothing more
+     Than thus to gaze, thus to adore
+     This exquisiteness of nature ever
+     In silence....
+
+                    But with instant light
+     Rends the film; with joy I quiver
+     To see with new celestial sight
+     Flower and leaf and grass and tree,
+     Doomed barks on an eternal sea,
+     Flit phantom-like as transient smoke.
+     Beauty herself her spell has broke,
+     Beauty, the herald and the lure,
+     Her message told, may not endure;
+     Her portal opened, she has died,
+     Supreme immortal suicide.
+     Yes, sleepless nature soundless flings
+     Invisible grapples round the soul,
+     Drawing her through the web of things
+     To the primal end of her journeyings,
+     Her ultimate and constant pole.
+
+     For Beauty with her hands that beckon
+       Is but the Prophet of a Higher,
+     A flaming and ephemeral beacon,
+       A Phoenix perishing by fire.
+     Herself from us herself estranges,
+       Herself her mighty tale doth kill,
+     That all things change yet nothing changes,
+       That all things move yet all are still.
+
+     I cannot sink, I cannot climb,
+       Now that I see my ancient dwelling,
+     The central orb untouched of time,
+       And taste a peace all bliss excelling.
+     Now I have broken Beauty's wall,
+       Now that my kindred world I hold,
+     I care not though the cities fall
+       And the green earth go cold.
+
+
+
+
+     THE THREE HILLS
+
+
+     There were three hills that stood alone
+       With woods about their feet.
+     They dreamed quiet when the sun shone
+       And whispered when the rain beat.
+
+     They wore all three their coronals
+       Till men with houses came
+     And scored their heads with pits and walls
+       And thought the hills were tame.
+
+     Red and white when day shines bright
+       They hide the green for miles,
+     Where are the old hills gone? At night
+       The moon looks down and smiles.
+
+     She sees the captors small and weak,
+       She knows the prisoners strong,
+     She hears the patient hills that speak:
+       "Brothers, it is not long;
+
+     "Brothers, we stood when they were not
+       Ten thousand summers past.
+     Brothers, when they are clean forgot
+       We shall outlive the last;
+
+     "One shall die and one shall flee
+       With terror in his train,
+     And earth shall eat the stones, and we
+       Shall be alone again."
+
+
+
+
+     A CHANT
+
+
+     Gently the petals fall as the tree gently sways
+       That has known many springs and many petals fall
+     Year after year to strew the green deserted ways
+       And the statue and the pond and the low, broken wall.
+
+     Faded is the memory of old things done,
+       Peace floats on the ruins of ancient festival;
+     They lie and forget in the warmth of the sun,
+       And a sky silver-blue arches over all.
+
+     O softly, O tenderly, the heart now stirs
+       With desires faint and formless; and, seeking not, I find
+     Quiet thoughts that flash like azure king-fishers
+       Across the luminous tranquil mirror of the mind.
+
+
+
+
+     ARTEMIS ALTERA
+
+
+     O full of candour and compassion,
+       Whom love and worship both would praise,
+     Love cannot frame nor worship fashion
+       The image of your fearless ways!
+
+     How show your noble brow's dark pallor,
+       Your chivalrous casque of ebon hair,
+     Your eyes' bright strength, your lips' soft valour,
+       Your supple shoulders and hands that dare?
+
+     Our souls when naïvely you examine,
+       Your sword of innocence, flaming, huge,
+     Sweeps over us, and there is famine
+       Within the ports of subterfuge.
+
+     You hate contempt and love not laughter;
+       With your sharp spear of virgin will
+     You harry the wicked strong; but after,
+       O huntress who could never kill,
+
+     Should they be trodden down or pierced,
+       Swift, swift, you fly with burning cheek
+     To place your beauty's shield reversed
+       Above the vile defenceless weak!
+
+
+
+
+     STARLIGHT
+
+
+     Last night I lay in an open field
+     And looked at the stars with lips sealed;
+     No noise moved the windless air,
+     And I looked at the stars with steady stare.
+
+     There were some that glittered and some that shone
+     With a soft and equal glow, and one
+     That queened it over the sprinkled round,
+     Swaying the host with silent sound.
+
+     "Calm things," I thought, "in your cavern blue,
+     I will learn and hold and master you;
+     I will yoke and scorn you as I can,
+     For the pride of my heart is the pride of a man."
+
+     Grass to my cheek in the dewy field
+     I lay quite still with lips sealed,
+     And the pride of a man and his rigid gaze
+     Stalked like swords on heaven's ways.
+
+     But through a sudden gate there stole
+     The Universe and spread in my soul;
+     Quick went my breath and quick my heart,
+     And I looked at the stars with lips apart.
+
+
+
+
+     FLORIAN'S SONG
+
+
+     My soul, it shall not take us,
+       O we will escape
+     This world that strives to break us
+       And cast us to its shape;
+     Its chisel shall not enter,
+       Its fire shall not touch,
+     Hard from rim to centre,
+       We will not crack or smutch.
+
+     'Gainst words sweet and flowered
+       We have an amulet,
+     We will not play the coward
+       For any black threat;
+     If we but give endurance
+       To what is now within--
+     The single assurance
+      That it is good to win.
+
+     Slaves think it better
+       To be weak than strong,
+     Whose hate is a fetter
+       And their love a thong.
+     But we will view those others
+       With eyes like stone,
+     And if we have no brothers
+       We will walk alone.
+
+
+
+
+     DIALOGUE
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     The dead man's gone, the live man's
+       sad, the dying leaf shakes on the tree,
+     The wind constrains the window panes and
+         moans like moaning of the sea,
+       And sour's the taste now culled in haste of
+         lovely things I won too late,
+     And loud and loud above the crowd the
+         Voice of One more strong than we.
+
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     This Voice you hear, this call you fear, is
+         it unprophesied or new?
+     Were you so insolent to think its rope would
+         never circle you?
+       Did you then beastlike live and walk with
+         ears and eyes that would not turn?
+     Who bade you hope your service 'scape in
+         that eternal retinue?
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     No; for I swear now bare's the tree and loud
+         the moaning of the wind,
+     I walked no rut with eyelids shut, my ears
+         and eyes were never blind,
+       Only my eager thoughts I bent on many
+         things that I desired
+     To make my greedy heart content ere flesh
+         and blood I left behind.
+
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     Ignorance, then, was all your fault and
+         filmèd eyes that could not know,
+     That half discerned and never learned the
+         temporal way that men must go;
+       You set the image of the world high for
+         your heart's idolatry,
+     Though with your lips you called the world
+         a toy, a ghost, a passing show.
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     No, no; this is not true; my lips spoke
+         only what my heart believed.
+     Called I the world a toy; I spoke not echo-like
+           or self-deceived.
+       But that I thought the toy was mine to play
+           with, and the passing show
+     Would sate at least my passing lusts, and did
+           not, therefore am I grieved.
+
+     What did I do that I must bear this lifelong
+           tyranny of my fate,
+     That I must writhe in bonds unsought of
+           accidental love and hate?
+       Had chance but joinèd different dice, but
+           once or twice, but once or twice,
+     All lovely things that I desired I should have
+           held before too late.
+
+     Surely I knew that flesh was grass nor valued
+           overmuch the prize,
+     But all the powers of chance conspired to
+           cheat a man both just and wise.
+       Happy I'd been had I but had my due
+           reward, and not a sword
+     Flaming in diabolic hand between me and
+           my Paradise.
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     No hooded band of fates did stand your
+           heart's ambitions to gainsay,
+     No flaming brand in evil hand was ever
+           thrust across your way,
+       Only the things all men must meet, the
+           common attributes of men,
+     That men may flinch to see or, seeing, deny,
+           but avoid them no man may.
+
+     Fall the dice, not once or twice but always, to
+           make the self-same sum;
+     Chance what may, a life's a life and to a
+           single goal must come;
+       Though a man search far and wide, never
+           is hunger satisfied;
+     Nature brings her natural fetters, man is
+           meshed and the wise are dumb.
+
+     O vain all art to assuage a heart with accents
+           of a mortal tongue,
+     All earthly words are incomplete and only
+           sweet are the songs unsung,
+       Never yet was cause for regret, yet regret
+           must afflict us all,
+     Better it were to grasp the world 'thwart
+           which this world is a curtain flung.
+
+
+
+
+     CREPUSCULAR
+
+
+     No creature stirs in the wide fields.
+       The rifted western heaven yields
+     The dying sun's illumination.
+     This is the hour of tribulation
+     When, with clear sight of eve engendered,
+     Day's homage to delusion rendered,
+       Mute at her window sits the soul.
+
+     Clouds and skies and lakes and seas,
+     Valleys and hills and grass and trees,
+     Sun, moon, and stars, all stand to her
+     Limbs of one lordless challenger,
+     Who, without deigning taunt or frown,
+     Throws a perennial gauntlet down:
+       "Come conquer me and take thy toll."
+
+     No cowardice or fear she knows,
+     But, as once more she girds, there grows
+     An unresignèd hopelessness
+     From memory of former stress.
+     Head bent, she muses whilst he waits:
+     How with such weapons dint his plates?
+     How quell this vast and sleepless giant
+     Calmly, immortally defiant,
+
+     How fell him, bind him, and control
+     With a silver cord and a golden bowl?
+
+
+
+
+     AT NIGHT
+
+
+     Dark firtops foot the moony sky,
+       Blue moonlight bars the drive;
+     Here at the open window I
+       Sit smoking and alive.
+
+     Wind in the branches swells and breaks
+       Like ocean on a beach;
+     Deep in the sky and my heart there wakes
+       A thought I cannot reach.
+
+
+
+
+     FOR MUSIC
+
+
+     Death in the cold grey morning
+       Came to the man where he lay;
+     And the wind shivered, and the tree shuddered
+       And the dawn was grey.
+
+     And the face of the man was grey in the dawn,
+       And the watchers by the bed
+     Knew, as they heard the shaking of the leaves,
+       That the man was dead.
+
+
+
+
+     THE ROOF
+
+
+     I
+
+     When the clouds hide the sun away
+       The tall slate roof is dull and grey,
+     And when the rain adown it streams
+     'Tis polished lead with pale-blue gleams.
+
+     When the clouds vanish and the rain
+     Stops, and the sun comes out again,
+     It shimmers golden in the sun
+     Almost too bright to look upon.
+
+     But soon beneath the steady rays
+     The roof is dried and reft of blaze,
+     'Tis dusty yellow traversed through
+     By long thin lines of deepest blue.
+
+     Then at the last, as night draws near,
+     The lines grow faint and disappear,
+     The roof becomes a purple mist
+     A great square darkening amethyst
+
+     Which sinks into the gathering shade
+     Till separate form and colour fade,
+     And it is but a patch which mars
+     The beauty of a field of stars.
+
+
+     II
+
+     It stands so lonely in the sky
+     The sparrows never come anigh,
+     The glossy starlings seldom stop
+     To preen and chatter on the top.
+
+     For a whole week sometimes up there
+     No wing-wave stirs the quiet air,
+     The roof lies silent and serene
+     As though no life had ever been;
+
+     Till some bright afternoon, athwart
+     The edge two sudden shadows dart,
+     And two white pigeons with pink feet
+     Flutter above and pitch on it.
+
+     Jerking their necks out as they walk
+     They talk awhile their pigeon-talk,
+     A low continuous murmur blent
+     Of mock reproaches and content.
+
+     Then cease, and sit there warm and white
+     An hour, till in the fading light
+     They wake, and know the close of day,
+     Flutter above, and fly away,
+
+     Leaving the roof whereon they sat
+     As 'twas before, a peaceful flat
+     Expanse, as silent and serene
+     As though no life had ever been.
+
+
+
+
+     TREETOPS
+
+
+     There beyond my window ledge,
+     Heaped against the sky a hedge
+     Of huge and wavering treetops stands
+     With multitudes of fluttering hands.
+
+     Wave they, beat they to and fro,
+     Never stillness may they know,
+     Plunged by the wind and hurled and torn
+     Anguished, purposeless, forlorn.
+
+     "O ferocious, O despairing,
+     In huddled isolation faring
+     Through a scattered universe,
+     Lost coins from the Almighty's purse!"
+
+     "No, below you do not see
+     The firm foundations of the tree;
+     Anchored to a rock beneath
+     We laugh in the hammering tempest's teeth."
+
+     "Boughs like men but burgeons are
+     On an adamantine star;
+     Men are myriad blossoms on
+     A staunch and cosmic skeleton."
+
+
+
+
+     IN THE PARK
+
+
+     This dense hard ground I tread
+     These iron bars that ripple past,
+     Will they unshaken stand when I am dead
+     And my deep thoughts outlast?
+
+     Is it my spirit slips,
+     Falls, like this leaf I kick aside;
+     This firmness that I feel about my lips,
+     Is it but empty pride?
+
+     Mute knowledge conquers me;
+     I contemplate them as they are,
+     Faint earth and shadowy bars that shake and flee,
+     Less hard, more transient far
+
+     Than those unbodied hues
+     The sunset flings on the calm river;
+     And, as I look, a swiftness thrills my shoes
+     And my hands with empire quiver.
+
+     Now light the ground I tread,
+     I walk not now but rather float;
+     Clear but unreal is the scene outspread,
+     Pitiful, thin, remote.
+
+     Poor vapour is the grass,
+     So frail the trees and railings seem,
+     That, did I sweep my hand around, 'twould pass
+     Through them, as in a dream.
+
+     Godlike I fear no changes;
+     Shatter the world with thunders loud,
+     Still would I ray-like flit about the ranges
+     Of dark and ruddy cloud.
+
+
+
+
+     SONG
+
+
+     There is a wood where the fairies dance
+     All night long in a ring of mushrooms daintily,
+     By each tree bole sits a squirrel or a mole,
+     And the moon through the branches darts.
+
+     Light on the grass their slim limbs glance,
+     Their shadows in the moonlight swing in quiet unison,
+     And the moon discovers that they all have lovers,
+     But they never break their hearts.
+
+     They never grieve at all for sands that run,
+     They never know regret for a deed that's done,
+     And they never think of going to a shed with a gun
+     At the rising of the sun.
+
+
+
+
+     TOWN
+
+
+     Mostly in a dull rotation
+       We bear our loads and eat and drink and sleep,
+     Feeling no tears, knowing no meditation--
+     Too tired to think, too clogged with earth to weep.
+
+     Dimly convinced, poor groping wretches,
+       Like eyeless insects in a murky pond
+     That out and out this city stretches,
+       Away, away, and there is no beyond.
+
+     No larger earth, no loftier heaven,
+       No cleaner, gentler airs to breathe. And yet,
+     Even to us sometimes is given
+       Visions of things we otherwhiles forget.
+
+     Some day is done, its labour ended,
+       And as we brood at windows high,
+     A steady wind from far descended,
+       Blows off the filth that hid the deeper sky;
+
+     There are the empty waiting spaces,
+       We watch, we watch, unwinking, pale and dumb,
+     Till gliding up with noiseless paces
+       Night sweeps o'er all the wide arch: Night has come.
+
+     Not that sick false night of the city,
+       Lurid and low and yellow and obscene,
+     But mother Night, pure, full of pity,
+       The star-strewn Night, blue, potent and serene.
+
+     O, as we gaze the clamour ceases,
+       The turbid world around grows dim and small,
+     The soft-shed influence releases
+       Our shrouded spirits from their dusty pall.
+
+     No more we hear the turbulent traffic,
+       Not scorned but unremembered is the day;
+     The Night, all luminous and seraphic,
+       Has brushed its heavy memories away.
+
+     The great blue Night so clear and kindly,
+       The little stars so wide-eyed and so still,
+     Open a door for souls that blindly
+       Had wandered, tunnelling the endless hill;
+
+     They draw the long-untraversed portal,
+       Our souls slip out and tremble and expand,
+     The immortal feels for the immortal,
+       The eternal holds the eternal by the hand.
+
+     Impalpably we are led and lifted,
+       Softly we shake into the gulf of blue,
+     The last environing veil is rifted
+       And lost horizons float into our view.
+
+     Lost lands, lone seas, lands that afar gleam
+       With a miraculous beauty, faint yet clear,
+     Forgotten lands of night and star-gleam,
+       Seas that are somewhere but that are not here.
+
+     Borne without effort or endeavour,
+       Swifter and more ethereal than the wind,
+     In level track we stream, whilst ever
+       The fair pale panorama rolls behind.
+
+     Now fleets below a trancèd moorland,
+       A sweep of glimmering immobility;
+     Now craggy cliff and dented foreland
+       Pass back and there beyond unfolds the sea.
+
+     Now wastes of water heaving, drawing,
+       Great darkling tracts of patterned restlessness,
+     With whitened waves round rough rocks mawing
+       And licking islands in their fierce caress.
+
+     Now coasts with capes and ribboned beaches
+       Set silent 'neath the canopy sapphirine,
+     And estuaries and river reaches
+       Phantasmal silver in the night's soft shine.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Ah, these fair woods the spirit crosses,
+       These quiet lakes, these stretched dreaming fields,
+     These undulate downs with piny bosses
+       Pointing the ridges of their sloping shields.
+
+     These valleys and these heights that screen them,
+       These tawnier sands where grass and tree are not,
+     Ah, we have known them, we have seen them
+       Long, long ago or ever we forgot;
+
+     We know them all, these placid countries,
+       And what the pathway is and what the goal;
+     These are the gates and these the sentries
+       That guard the ancient fortress of the soul.
+
+     And onward speed we flying, flying,
+       Over the sundering worlds of hill and plain
+     To where they rear their heads undying
+       The unnamed mountains of old days again.
+
+     The snows upon their calm still summits,
+       The chasms, the lines of trees that foot the snow,
+     Curving like inky frozen comets,
+       Into the forest-ocean spread below.
+
+     The glisten where the peaks are hoarest,
+       The soundless darkness of the sunken vales,
+     The folding leagues of shadowy forest,
+       Wave beyond wave till all distinctness fails.
+
+     So invulnerable it is, so deathless,
+       So floods the air the loveliness of it,
+     That we stay dazzled, rapt and breathless,
+       Our beings ebbing to the infinite.
+
+     There as we pause, there as we hover,
+       Moveless in ecstasy, a sudden light
+     Breaks in our eyes, and we discover
+       We sit at windows gazing to the night.
+
+     Wistful and tired, with eyes a-tingle
+       Where still the sting of Beauty faintly smarts,
+     But with our mute regrets there mingle
+       Thanks for the resurrection of our hearts.
+
+     O night so great that will not mock us!
+       O stars so wise that understand the weak!
+     O vast consoling hands that rock us!
+       O strong and perfect tongues that speak!
+
+     O night enrobed in azure splendour!
+       O whispering stars whose radiance falls like dew!
+     O mighty presences and tender,
+       You have given us back the dreams our childhood knew!
+
+     Lulled by your visions without number,
+       We seek our beds content and void of pain,
+     And dreaming drowse and dreaming slumber
+       And dreaming wake to see the day again.
+
+
+
+
+     A MEMORIAL
+
+     (F.T.)
+
+
+     The cord broke, and the tent
+     Slipped, and the silken roof
+     Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof
+     Of the deliberate firmament.
+     Yet cared we not; how should we care?
+     Knowing that labourless now he breathes
+     A golden paradisal air
+     Where with more certain craft he wreathes
+     Bright braids of words more wise and fair
+     Than ever his earthly fabrics were,
+     That his unwavering eyes made fresh,
+     Purged and regarbed in fadeless flesh,
+     What he then darkly guessed behold,
+     And watch with an abiding joy
+         The eternal mysteries unfold
+     Which do his now transfigured songs evermore employ.
+
+         Brother, yet great thy power;
+         Thou stood'st as on a tower
+     Small 'neath the stars yet high above the fields;
+         In thy alembic song
+         Imagination strong
+     Distilled what essences the quest to mortals yields.
+         This thy reward well-won,
+         For every morning's sun
+     Found thy heart's firm allegiance still unshaken;
+         No temporal ache or smart
+         Drave Beauty from thy heart,
+     And by thy mighty mistress never wast forsaken.
+
+         Yes; for though stringent was the test,
+         When that thy trial was bitterest,
+     Steadfast thou did'st remain; unshod
+     The harrows of Pain thy feet once trod,
+     Humiliate as thy sad song tells
+     Before the vault's white sentinels.
+     Friendless and faint thou sojourned'st there,
+     A bowed, brave, timid wanderer,
+     A lonely nomad of the spirit,
+     Who did a triple curse inherit,
+     Hunger, regret and memory.
+     Yet never did they vanquish thee;
+     When nighest broken, most alone,
+     Thy unassuagèd thoughts could clamber
+     To beauty on her ageless throne;
+     Thou wert as one in torture chamber
+     Who sees the blue through an open casement
+     And hammers his soul to endure the time
+     Of his corporeal abasement;
+     Nor writhed'st at thine or others' fault,
+         But with grim tenderness did salt
+         Thy cicatrices with a rhyme.
+         Not the most sable flame of gloom
+         Could penetrate thy inmost room;
+         But through the walls thy spirit sucked
+         Into that cloistral hermitage
+         Stray lovely things, moonbeams and snows
+         The far sky shed into thy cage,
+         And, from the very gutter plucked,
+         A lost and mired campestral rose.
+
+     Ended that purgatorial period,
+     Filled was thy wallet and thy feet were shod,
+     The leaden weights were moved, the rack withdrawn,
+     Thou didst traverse the dewy fields of dawn,
+     Watch sunsets blazoning over upland turf,
+     Pull poppies from the frontiers of the surf,
+         Dwelled'st with love and human eyes
+         Vigilant, calm and wise.
+         But still as when thy bark did ride
+         Derelict on the city's tide,
+         As then for penury now for pride
+         Thy bodily senses were denied;
+         Though they cried out and would not sleep,
+         Ascetic thou didst armour them
+     Lest acid pleasure should eat thine art's pure gem.
+         Hourly the tempter's ambuscades
+         But thou didst guard the gates and keep
+         Thy senses' hungry colonnades
+     Accessible but to Beauty's ministers,
+     Unlit by any ruby flame but hers.
+         Immuring so thy spirit eager
+         Within a body frail and meagre,
+     Far from the meads of earthly milk and honey,
+     Yet franchised of more wondrous territories,
+     Like those poor Bedouin of Arabia the Stony
+     Who roam spare-fed and hollow-eyed but free
+     By day to wander and by night to camp
+         In vast serenity,
+         Compassed by God's great silent glories
+     The sun's gold splendour and the moon's white lamp,
+         Folded and safe from harm
+     Beneath the mighty sky's protecting arm.
+
+         Ha! but the Titan's ardour
+         Wherewith thou scour'dst the vast,
+         To spoil the starry larder
+         Of fruits of heavenly taste!
+         Urania's fiercest servant,
+         With thirst as furnace fervent
+         And serene burning brow,
+         Worthy of thy great lineage, thou
+         Drankest without a shudder
+         In proud humility
+         Milk from that vast primæval udder
+         That swells for such as thee,
+     Milk from the fountains of the Universe
+     That cowards deem infected with a curse,
+         That flushes him who drinks
+           Nor shrinks
+     The exalted anguish of diurnal draughts
+     To a clear vision, more intolerable
+     In its blissful pain, than love's most ardent shafts,
+         Of the seats where she doth dwell,
+         She, whom thou didst confess
+           Enticed
+         Thee hot to her throne to press
+         For the greater glory of Christ
+     To uplift the curtains of her closed eyes.
+
+         Not all was for thy learning
+         Nor any mortal's else;
+         Only for thy discerning
+         Sporadic syllables
+         Of those supernal glances
+     Coffer of which her marble countenance is,
+         Yet vain was not the adventure,
+         Reluctant though the prize,
+         Thou gainedst a debenture
+         On the fringe of Beauty's eyes;
+         Such fragmentary trophy
+         As some cross-tunic'd knight
+         From Saladin or Sophy
+         May have won in sword's despite,
+         Not the dear polar shrines
+         Held captive by the Paynim
+         But still as fruit of wars
+         Some stone from Sion's lines,
+         Some relic that might sain him
+         Of life's uncounted scars.
+
+         Self-dedicated anchorite,
+         Never disdainful of the dust,
+     But conscious of the overcoming night
+     That must engulph the blooms and berries of lust,
+     And unforgetful of the enveloping day beyond;
+     Though a sweet show was spread for thy delight
+     Resolved not to be so fond
+     As, in ephemeral gauds caparisoned,
+     To station feet upon a world of vapour
+     Soft as a dream and fleeting as a taper;
+     Thou thoughtest nevertheless that thou shouldst occupy
+     Thyself, as it seemed to thee, most worthily
+     Until the rapid hour when thou shouldst die;
+         So, in a world of seemings,
+         Of shadows and of dreamings,
+     Busied thyself to fashion and record
+     Unto the greater glory of thy Lord,
+         For thy proud lady Beauty His
+     Most excellent and humble handmaid is.
+     Says one thy service was too ceremonial,
+     Thy vestments irised overmuch, thy ritual
+     Too elaborate and thy rubric too obscure,
+     Therefore thy gift of chant and orison
+     Beneath the perfect service men have done.
+         O but thy notes were pure,
+     And in a day like this we now endure
+     No fault it was in thee to set thy camp
+         Remote, aloof, aloof,
+         In a far fastness proof
+     'Gainst the mephitic odours of the swamp.
+         Which being so, no gain
+         'Twere to explain
+     An exquisiteness too meticulous;
+         Let us but say it pleased thee thus,
+     Dowered with imagination heavy-fruited,
+     To raise a column garlanded and fluted
+         For Him thy heavenly abacus.
+         This was thine offering thou didst make
+         In founded hope that He
+         The craftsman's best would take
+     Well knowing its unobscure sincerity.
+
+         The cord broke and the tent
+         Slipped and the silken roof
+         Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof
+         Of the deliberate firmament.
+         We still in this terrene abode
+         Forlorn must tread the difficult road,
+         And all meek thanks and all belief
+         Hardly suffice to rampart grief.
+     For gone is Beauty's votary apostolic
+     And are her temples now delivered over
+     To blindworms and libidinous goats that frolic
+     In places hallowed by that celestial lover.
+         Save only two or three
+         With undivided minds like thee,
+         None now remains that girds
+         The peregrinal loin,
+     None reverent of Beauty's holy tongue,
+     But counterfeiters of her imaged coin,
+     Iconoclasts, breakers of carven words,
+     Seekers of worthless treasure in the dung,
+     Mock mages and cacophonous charlatans,
+         And pismire artisans
+         Labouring to make
+     Such mirrored replicas of Nature's face
+     As might the surface of a stagnant lake.
+
+         Yet we should anger not,
+         Nor let that be forgot,
+         The testament of stateliest worth
+         He left us when he fled the earth.
+         The mausoleum made of rhyme,
+         Fair in its unfrequented field,
+         Which shall invulnerably shield
+         His memory to the end of Time;
+         The house with curtain-flaming halls
+         And roof of gold and jewelled walls
+         For which the fisher sank his net
+         Into the deepest pools of speech,
+         Scooping rich conchs and ribbons wet
+         That a less venturous could not reach,
+         The hunter tracked the metaphor
+         On many a foamy silver coast
+         A hundred leagues beyond the most
+         Fabulous Tellurian shore.
+
+         Magnificent he was and mild,
+         Glad to be still and glad to speak,
+         Daring yet delicate as a child,
+         Faithful, compassionate and holy,
+         And, being human, strong and weak,
+         And full of hope and melancholy.
+         No more than we, able to shed
+         Man's nature he inherited,
+         Neither sin's garrison to kill,
+     Yet at the last with constancy so great
+     As the world's vanities to abnegate,
+     Sternly to will the sacrifice of will
+     Upon the altars of the Uncreate,
+         So that he lived before he died
+     As one who hourly to himself denied
+         All joys save those that cannot pall,
+     Who having nothing yet had all.
+
+
+
+
+     FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND
+
+
+     I
+
+     When I was a boy there was a friend of mine,
+     We thought ourselves warriors and grown folk swine,
+     Stupid old animals who never understood
+     And never had an impulse and said "you must be good."
+
+     We slank like stoats and fled like foxes,
+     We put cigarettes in the pillar-boxes,
+     Lighted cigarettes and letters all aflame--
+     O the surprise when the postman came!
+
+     We stole eggs and apples and made fine hay
+     In people's houses when people were away,
+     We broke street lamps and away we ran,
+     Then I was a boy but now I am a man.
+
+     Now I am a man and don't have any fun,
+     I hardly ever shout and I never never run,
+     And I don't care if he's dead that friend of mine,
+     For then I was a boy and now I am a swine.
+
+
+     II
+
+     We met again the other night
+     With people; you were quite polite,
+     Shook my hand and spoke awhile
+     Of common things with cautious smile;
+     Paid the usual debt men owe
+     To fellows whom they used to know.
+     But, when our eyes met full, yours dropped,
+     And sudden, resolute, you stopped,
+     Moving with hurried syllables
+     To make remarks to some one else.
+     I caught them not, to me they said:
+     "Let the dead past bury its dead,
+     Things were very different then,
+     Boys are fools and men are men."
+     Several times the other night
+     You did your best to be polite;
+     When in the conversation's round
+     You heard my tongue's familiar sound
+     You bent in eager pose my way
+     To hear what I had got to say;
+     Trying, you thought with some success,
+     To hide the chasm's nakedness.
+     But on your eyes hard films there lay;
+     No mock-interest, no pretence
+     Could veil your blank indifference;
+     And if thoughts came recalling things
+     Far-off, far-off, from those old springs
+     When underneath the moon and sun
+     Our separate pulses beat as one,
+     Vagrant tender thoughts that asked
+     Admittance found the portal masked;
+     You spurned them; when I'd said my say,
+     With laugh and nod you turned away
+     To toss your friends some easy jest
+     That smote my brow and stabbed my breast.
+     Foolish though it be and vain
+     I am not master of my pain,
+     And when I said good-night to you
+     I hoped we should not meet again,
+     And wondered how the soul I knew
+     Could change so much; have I changed too?
+
+
+     III
+
+     There was a man whom I knew well
+     Whose choice it was to live in hell;
+     Reason there was why that was so
+     But what it was I do not know.
+
+     He had a room high in a tower,
+     And sat there drinking hour by hour,
+     Drinking, drinking all alone
+     With candles and a wall of stone.
+
+     Now and then he sobered down,
+     And stayed a night with me in town.
+     If he found me with a crowd,
+     He shrank and did not speak aloud.
+
+     He sat in a corner silently,
+     And others of the company
+     Would note his curious face and eye,
+     His twitching face and timid eye.
+
+     When they saw the eye he had
+     They thought perhaps that he was mad.
+     I knew he was clear and sane
+     But had a horror in his brain.
+
+     He had much money and one friend
+     And drank quite grimly to the end.
+     Why he chose to die in hell
+     I did not ask, he did not tell.
+
+
+
+
+     LINES
+
+
+     When London was a little town
+       Lean by the river's marge,
+     The poet paced it with a frown,
+       He thought it very large.
+
+     He loved bright ship and pointing steeple
+       And bridge with houses loaded
+     And priests and many-coloured people ...
+       But ah, they were not woaded!
+
+     Not all the walls could shed the spell
+       Of meres and marshes green,
+     Nor any chaffering merchant tell
+       The beauty that had been:
+
+     The crying birds at fall of night,
+       The fisher in his coracle,
+     And grim on Ludgate's windy height,
+       An oak-tree and an oracle.
+
+     Sick for the past his hair he rent
+       And dropt a tear in season;
+     If he had cause for his lament
+       We have much better reason.
+
+     For now the fields and paths he knew
+       Are coffined all with bricks,
+     The lucid silver stream he knew
+       Runs slimy as the Styx;
+
+     North and south and east and west,
+       Far as the eye can travel,
+     Earth with a sombre web is drest
+       That nothing can unravel.
+
+     And we must wear as black a frown,
+       Wail with as keen a woe
+     That London was a little town
+       Five hundred years ago.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Yet even this place of steamy stir,
+       This pit of belch and swallow,
+     With chrism of gold and gossamer
+       The elements can hallow.
+
+     I have a room in Chancery Lane,
+       High in a world of wires,
+     Whence fall the roofs a ragged plain
+       Wooded with many spires.
+
+     There in the dawns of summer days
+       I stand in adoration,
+     While London's robed in rainbow haze
+       And gold illumination.
+
+     The wizard breezes waft the rays
+       Shot by the waking sun,
+     A myriad chimneys softly blaze,
+       A myriad shadows run.
+
+     Round the wide rim in radiant mist
+       The gentle suburbs quiver,
+     And nearer lies the shining twist
+       Of Thames, a holy river
+
+     Left and right my vision drifts,
+       By yonder towers I linger,
+     Where Westminster's cathedral lifts
+       Its belled Byzantine finger,
+
+     And here against my perchèd home
+       Where hold wise converse daily
+     The loftier and the lesser dome,
+       St. Paul's and the Old Bailey.
+
+
+
+
+     ECHOES
+
+
+     There is a far unfading city
+      Where bright immortal people are;
+     Remote from hollow shame and pity,
+       Their portals frame no guiding star
+     But blightless pleasure's moteless rays
+       That follow their footsteps as they dance
+     Long lutanied measures through a maze
+       Of flower-like song and dalliance.
+
+     There always glows the vernal sun,
+       There happy birds for ever sing,
+     There faint perfumèd breezes run
+       Through branches of eternal spring;
+     There faces browned and fruit and milk
+       And blue-winged words and rose-bloomed kisses
+     In galleys gowned with gold and silk
+       Shake on a lake of dainty blisses.
+
+     Coyness is not, nor bear they thought
+       Save of a shining gracious flow,
+     All natural joys are temperate sought,
+       For calm desire there they know,
+     A fire promiscuous, languorous, kind;
+       They scorn all fiercer lusts and quarrels,
+     Nor blow about on anger's wind,
+       Nor burn with love, nor rust with morals.
+
+     Folk in the far unfading city,
+       Burning with lusts my senses are,
+     I am torn with love and shame and pity,
+       Be to my heart a guiding star
+     Wise youths and maidens in the sun,
+       With eyes that charm and lips that sing,
+     And gentle arms that rippling run,
+       Shed on my heart your endless spring!
+
+
+
+
+     THE FUGITIVE
+
+
+     Flying his hair and his eyes averse,
+     Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+     How could we clear his charms rehearse?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     High on a down we found him last,
+     Shy as a hare, he fled as fast;
+     How could we clasp him or ever he passed?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     How could we cling to his limbs that shone,
+     Ravish his cheeks' red gonfalon,
+     Or the wild-skin cloak that he had on?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     For the wind of his feet still straightly shaping,
+     He loosed at our breasts from his eyes escaping
+     One crooked swift glance like a javelin leaping.
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     And his feet passed over the sunset land
+     From the place forlorn where a forlorn band
+     Watching him flying we still did stand.
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     Vanishing now who would not stay
+     To the blue hills on the verge of day.
+     O soft! soft! Music play,
+              Fading away,
+                (Fleet are his feet
+                And his heart apart)
+              Fading away.
+
+
+
+
+     IN AN ORCHARD
+
+
+     Airy and quick and wise
+       In the shed light of the sun,
+     You clasp with friendly eyes
+       The thoughts from mine that run.
+
+     But something breaks the link;
+       I solitary stand
+     By a giant gully's brink
+       In some vast gloomy land.
+
+     Sole central watcher, I
+       With steadfast sadness now
+     In that waste place descry
+       'Neath the awful heavens how
+
+     Your life doth dizzy drop
+       A little foam of flame
+     From a peak without a top
+       To a pit without a name.
+
+
+
+
+     IN A CHAIR
+
+
+     He room is full of the peace of night,
+       The small flames murmur and flicker and sway,
+     Within me is neither shadow, nor light,
+       Nor night, nor twilight, nor dawn, nor day.
+
+     For the brain strives not to the goal of thought,
+       And the limbs lie wearied, and all desire
+     Sleeps for a while, and I am naught
+       But a pair of eyes that gaze at a fire.
+
+
+
+
+     A DAY
+
+
+     I. MORNING
+
+     The village fades away
+       Where I last night came
+     Where they housed me and fed me
+       And never asked my name.
+
+     The sun shines bright, my step is light,
+       I, who have no abode,
+     Jeer at the stuck, monotonous
+       Black posts along the road.
+
+
+     II. MIDDAY
+
+             The wood is still,
+               As here I sit
+             My heart drinks in
+               The peace of it.
+
+             A something stirs
+               I know not where
+             Some quiet spirit
+               In the air.
+
+             O tall straight stems!
+               O cool deep green!
+             O hand unfelt!
+               O face unseen!
+
+
+     III. EVENING
+
+     The evening closes in,
+       As down this last long lane
+     I plod; there patter round
+       First heavy drops of rain.
+
+     Feet ache, legs ache, but now
+       Step quickens as I think
+     Of mounds of bread and cheese
+       And something hot to drink.
+
+
+     IV. NIGHT
+
+             Ah! sleep is sweet, but yet
+               I will not sleep awhile
+             Nor for a space forget
+               The toil of that last mile;
+
+             But lie awake and feel
+               The cool sheets' tremulous kisses
+             O'er all my body steal ...
+               Is sleep as sweet as this is?
+
+
+
+
+     THE MIND OF MAN
+
+
+     I
+
+     Beneath my skull-bone and my hair,
+       Covered like a poisonous well,
+     There is a land: if you looked there
+       What you saw you'd quail to tell.
+     You that sit there smiling, you
+     Know that what I say is true.
+
+     My head is very small to touch,
+       I feel it all from front to back,
+     An eared round that weighs not much,
+     Eyes, nose-holes, and a pulpy crack:
+     Oh, how small, how small it is!
+     How could countries be in this?
+
+     Yet, when I watch with eyelids shut,
+       It glimmers forth, now dark, now clear,
+     The city of Cis-Occiput,
+       The marshes and the writhing mere,
+     The land that every man I see
+     Knows in himself but not in me.
+
+
+     II
+
+     Upon the borders of the weald
+       (I walk there first when I step in)
+     Set in green wood and smiling field,
+       The city stands, unstained of sin;
+     White thoughts and wishes pure
+     Walk the streets with steps demure.
+
+     In its clean groves and spacious halls
+       The quiet-eyed inhabitants
+     Hold innocent sunny festivals
+       And mingle in decorous dance;
+     Things that destroy, distort, deface,
+     Come never to that lovely place.
+
+     Never could evil enter thither,
+       It could not live in that sweet air,
+     The shadow of an ill deed must wither
+       And fall away to nothing there.
+     You would say as there you stand
+     That all was beauty in the land.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     But go you out beyond the gateway,
+       Cleave you the woods and pass the plain,
+     Cross you the frontier down, and straightway
+       The trees will end, the grass will wane,
+     And you will come to a wilderness
+     Of sticks and parchèd barrenness.
+
+     The middle of the land is this,
+       A tawny desert midmost set,
+     Barren of living things it is,
+       Saving at night some vampires flit
+     That nest them in the farther marish
+     Where all save vilest things must perish.
+
+     Here in this reedy marsh of green
+       And oily pools, swarm insects fat
+     And birds of prey and beasts obscene,
+       Things that the traveller shudders at,
+     All cunning things that creep and fly
+     To suck men's blood until they die.
+
+     Rarely from hence does aught escape
+       Into the world of outer light,
+     But now and then some sable shape
+       Outward will dash in sudden flight;
+     And men stand stonied or distraught
+     To know the loathly deed or thought.
+
+     But, ah! beyond the marsh you reach
+       A purulent place more vile than all,
+     A festering lake too foul for speech,
+       Rotten and black, with coils acrawl,
+     Where writhe with lecherous squeakings shrill
+     Horrors that make the heart stand still.
+
+     There, 'neath a heaven diseased, it lies,
+       The mere alive with slimy worms,
+     With perverse terrible infamies,
+       And murders and repulsive forms
+     That have no name, but slide here deep
+     Whilst I, their holder, silence keep.
+
+
+
+
+     A REASONABLE PROTESTATION
+
+     [To F., who complained of his vagueness and lack of
+     dogmatic statement]
+
+
+     Not, I suppose, since I deny
+     Appearance is reality,
+     And doubt the substance of the earth
+     Does your remonstrance come to birth;
+     Not that at once I both affirm
+     'Tis not the skin that makes the worm
+     And every tactile thing with mass
+     Must find its symbol in the grass
+     And with a cool conviction say
+     Even a critic's more than clay
+     And every dog outlives his day.
+     This kind of vagueness suits your view,
+     You would not carp at it; for you
+     Did never stand with those who take
+     Their pleasures in a world opaque.
+     For you a tree would never be
+     Lovely were it but a tree,
+     And earthly splendours never splendid
+     If by transience unattended.
+     Your eyes are on a farther shore
+     Than any of earth; you not adore
+     As godhead God's dead hieroglyph,
+     Nor would you be perturbed if
+     Some prophet with a voice of thunder
+     And avalanche arm should blast and founder
+     The logical pillars that maintain
+     This visible world which loads the brain,
+     Loads the brain and withers the heart
+     And holds man from his God apart.
+
+     But still with you remains the craving
+     For some more solid substance, having
+     Surface to touch, colour to see,
+     And form compact in symmetry.
+     You are not satisfied with these
+     Vague throbbings, utterless ecstasies,
+     Void finds your spirit of delight
+     This great indefinite white light,
+     Not with such sickles can you reap;
+     If a dense earth you cannot keep
+     You want a dense heaven as substitute
+     With trees of plump celestial fruit,
+     Red apples, golden pomegranates,
+     And a river flowing by tall gates
+     Of topaz and of chrysolite
+     And walls of twenty cubits height.
+
+     Frank, you cry out against the age!
+     Nor you nor I can disengage
+     Ourselves from that in which we live
+     Nor seize on things God does not give.
+     Thirsty as you, perhaps, I long
+     For courtyards of eternal song,
+     Even as yours my feet would stray
+     In a city where 'tis always day
+     And a green spontaneous leafy garden
+     With God in the middle for a warden;
+     But though I trust with strengthening faith
+     I'll taste when I have traversed death
+     The unimaginable sweetness
+     Of certitude of such concreteness,
+     How should I draw the hue and scope
+     Of substances I only hope
+     Or blaze upon a mortal screen
+     The evidence of things not seen?
+     This art of ours but grows and stirs
+     Experience when it registers,
+     And you know well as I know well
+     This autumn of time in which we dwell
+     Is not an age of revelations
+     Solid as once, but intimations
+     That touch us with warm misty fingers
+     Leaving a nameless sense that lingers
+     That sight is blind and Time's a snare
+     And earth less solid than the air
+     And deep below all seeming things
+     There sits a steady king of kings
+     A radiant ageless permanence,
+     A quenchless fount of virtue whence
+     We draw our life; a sense that makes
+     A staunch conviction nothing shakes
+     Of our own immortality.
+     And though, being man, with certain glee
+     I eat and drink, though I suffer pain,
+     And love and hate and love again
+     Well or in mode contemptible,
+     Thus shackled by the body's spell
+     I see through pupils of the beast
+     Though it be faint and blurred with mist
+     A Star that travels in the East.
+
+     I see what I can, not what I will
+     In things that move, things that are still,
+     Thin motion, even cloudier rest,
+     I see the symbols God hath drest
+     The moveless trees, the trees that wave
+     The clouds that heavenly highways have,
+     Horses that run, rocks that are fixt,
+     Streams that have rest and motion mixt,
+     The main with its abiding flux,
+     The wind that up my chimney sucks
+     A mounting waterfall of flame,
+     Sticks, straws, dust, beetles and that same
+     Old blazing sun the Psalmist saw
+     A testifier to the law.
+     Divinely to the heart they speak
+     Saying how they are but weak
+     Wan will o' the wisps o'er the crystal sea;
+     But stays that sea still dark to me.
+
+     Did I now glibly insolent
+     Chart the ulterior firmament,
+     Would you not know my words were lies,
+     Where not my testimonial eyes
+     Mortal or spiritual lodge,
+     Mere uncorroborated fudge?
+     Praise me, though praise I do not want,
+     Rather, that I have cast much cant,
+     That what I see and feel I write
+     Read what I can in this dim light
+     Granted to me in nether night.
+     And though I am vague and shrink to guess
+     God's everlasting purposes,
+     And never save in perplext dream
+     Have caught the least authentic gleam
+     Of the great kingdom and the throne
+     In the world that lies behind our own,
+     I have not lacked my certainties,
+     I have not haggard moaned the skies,
+     Now waged unnecessary strife
+     Nor scorned nor overvalued life.
+     And though you say my attitude
+     Is questioning, concede my mood
+     Does never bring to tongue or pen
+     Accents of gloomy modern men
+     Who wail or hail the death of God
+     And weigh and measure man the clod,
+     Or say they draw reluctant breath
+     And musically mourn that Death
+     Is a queen omnipotent of woe
+     And Life her lean cicisbeo,
+     Abject and pale, whom vampire-like
+     She playeth with ere she shall strike,
+     And pose sad riddles to the Sphinx
+     With raven quills in purple inks,...
+     Then send the boy to fetch more drinks.
+
+
+
+
+     EPILOGUE
+
+
+     Than farthest stars more distant,
+         A mile more,
+         A mile more,
+     A voice cries on insistent:
+     "You may smile more if you will;
+
+     "You may sing too and spring too;
+         But numb at last
+         And dumb at last,
+     Whatever port you cling to,
+     You must come at last to a hill.
+
+     "And never a man you'll find there
+         To take your hand
+         And shake your hand;
+     But when you go behind there
+     You must make your hand a sword
+
+     "To fence with a foeman swarthy,
+         And swink there
+         Nor shrink there,
+     Though cowardly and worthy
+     Must drink there one reward."
+
+
+
+
+     TWELVE
+
+     TRANSLATIONS
+
+     FROM
+
+     CHARLES BAUDELAIRE
+
+
+
+
+     TOUT ENTIÈRE
+
+
+     This morning in my attic high
+       The Demon came to visit me,
+     And seeking faults in my reply,
+       He said: "I would inquire of thee,
+
+     "Of all the beauties which compose
+       Her charming body's potent spell,
+     Of all the objects black and rose
+       Which make the thing you love so well,
+
+     "Which is the sweetest?" O my soul!
+       Thou didst rejoin: "How tell of parts,
+     When all I know is that the whole
+       Works magic in my heart of hearts?
+
+     "Where all is fair, how should I say
+       What single grace is my delight?
+     She shines on me like break of day
+       And she consoles me as the night.
+
+     "There flows through all her perfect frame
+       A harmony too exquisite
+     That weak analysis should name
+       The numberless accords of it.
+
+     "O mystic metamorphosis!
+       My separate senses all are blent;
+     Within her breath soft music is,
+       And in her voice a subtle scent!"
+
+
+
+
+     THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF
+
+
+     One, Nature! burns and makes thee bright,
+       One gives thee weeds to mourn withal;
+       And what to one is burial
+     Is to the other life and light.
+
+     The unknown Hermes who assists
+       And alway fills my heart with fear
+       Makes me the mighty Midas' peer
+     The saddest of the alchemists.
+
+     Through him I make gold changeable
+     To dross, and paradise to hell;
+     Clouds for its corpse-cloths I descry.
+
+     A stark dead body I love well,
+       And in the gleaming fields on high
+       I build immense sarcophagi.
+
+
+
+
+     SPLEEN
+
+
+     When the low heavy sky weighs like a lid
+       Upon the spirit aching for the light
+     And all the wide horizon's line is hid
+       By a black day sadder than any night;
+
+     When the changed earth is but a dungeon dank
+       Where batlike Hope goes blindly fluttering
+     And, striking wall and roof and mouldered plank,
+       Bruises his tender head and timid wing;
+
+     When like grim prison-bars stretch down the thin,
+       Straight, rigid pillars of the endless rain,
+     And the dumb throngs of infamous spiders spin
+       Their meshes in the caverns of the brain;--
+
+     Suddenly, bells leap forth into the air,
+       Hurling a hideous uproar to the sky
+     As 'twere a band of homeless spirits who fare
+       Through the strange heavens, wailing stubbornly.
+
+     And hearses, without drum or instrument,
+       File slowly through my soul; crushed, sorrowful,
+     Weeps Hope, and Grief, fierce and omnipotent,
+       Plants his black banner on my drooping skull.
+
+
+
+
+     A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA
+
+
+     My heart was like a bird and took to flight,
+       Around the rigging circling joyously;
+       The ship rolled on beneath a cloudless sky
+     Like a great angel drunken with the light.
+
+     "What is yon isle, sad and funereal?"
+       "Cythera famed in deathless song," said they,
+       "The gay old bachelors' Eldorado-Nay,
+     Look! 'tis a poor bare country after all!"
+
+     Isle of sweet secrets and heart banquetings!
+       The queenly shade of antique Venus thrills
+       Scentlike above thy level seas and fills
+     Our souls with languor and all amorous things.
+
+     Fair isle and of green myrtles and blown flowers
+       Held holy by all men for evermore,
+       Where the faint sighs of spirits that adore
+     Float like rose-incense through the quiet hours,
+
+     And dovelike sounds each murmured orison:--
+       Cythera lay there barren 'neath bright skies,
+       A rocky waste rent by discordant cries:
+     Natheless I saw a curious thing thereon.
+
+     No shady temple was it, close enshrined
+       I' the trees; no flower-crowned priestess hither came
+     With her young body burnt by secret flame,
+     Baring her breast to the caressing wind;
+
+     But when so close to the land's edge we drew
+       Our canvas scared the sea-fowl--gradually
+       We knew it for a three-branched gallows tree
+     Like a black cypress stark against the blue.
+
+     A rotten carcase hung, whereon did sit
+       A swarm of foul black birds; with writhe and shriek
+       Each sought to pierce and plunge his knife-like beak
+     Deep in the bleeding trunk and limbs of it.
+
+     The eyes were holes; the belly opened wide
+       Streaming its heavy entrails on the thighs;
+       The grim birds, gorged with dreadful delicacies,
+     Had dug and furrowed it on every side.
+
+     Beneath the blackened feet there strove and pressed
+       A herd of jealous beasts with upward snout,
+       And in the midst of these there turned about
+     One, the chief hangman, larger than the rest....
+
+     Lone Cytherean! now all silently
+       Thou sufferest these insults to atone
+       For those old infamous sins that thou hast known,
+     The sins that locked the gate o' the grave to thee.
+
+     Mine are thy sorrows, ludicrous corse; yea, all
+       Are mine! I stood thy swaying limbs beneath,
+       And, like a bitter vomit, to my teeth
+     There rose old shadows in a stream of gall.
+
+     O thou unhappy devil, I felt afresh,
+       Gazing at thee, the beaks and jaws of those
+       Black savage panthers and those ruthless crows,
+     Who loved of old to macerate my flesh.
+
+     The sea was calm, the sky without a cloud;
+       Henceforth for me all things that came to pass
+       Were blood and darkness,--round my heart, alas!
+     There clung that allegory, like a shroud.
+
+     Naught save mine image on a gibbet thrust
+       Found I on Venus island desolate....
+       Ah, God! the courage and strength to contemplate
+     My body and my heart without disgust.
+
+
+
+
+     THE CRACKED BELL
+
+
+     'Tis bitter-sweet, when winter nights are long,
+       To watch, beside the flames which smoke and twist,
+     The distant memories which slowly throng,
+       Brought by the chime soft-singing through the mist.
+
+     Happy the sturdy, vigorous-throated bell
+       Who, spite of age alert and confident,
+     Cries hourly, like some strong old sentinel
+       Flinging the ready challenge from his tent.
+
+     For me, my soul is cracked; when sick with care,
+     She strives with songs to people the cold air
+       It happens often that her feeble cries
+
+       Mock the harsh rattle of a man who lies
+     Wounded, forgotten, 'neath a mound of slain
+     And dies, pinned fast, writhing his limbs in pain.
+
+
+
+
+     THE OFFENDED MOON
+
+
+     O moon, O lamp of hill and secret dale!
+       Thou whom our fathers, ages out of mind,
+       Worshipped in thy blue heaven, whilst behind
+     Thy stars streamed after thee a glittering trail,
+
+     Dost see the poet, weary-eyed and pale,
+       Or lovers on their happy beds reclined,
+       Showing white teeth in sleep, or vipers twined,
+     'Neath the dry sward; or in a golden veil
+
+     Stealest thou with faint footfall o'er the grass
+       As of old, to kiss from twilight unto dawn
+     The faded charms of thine Endymion?...
+
+     "O child of this sick century, I see
+     Thy grey-haired mother leering in her glass
+     And plastering the breast that suckled thee!"
+
+
+
+
+     TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE,
+
+     1842
+
+
+     So proud your port, your arm so powerful,
+       With such a grip you grip the goddess' hair,
+       That one might take you, from your casual air,
+     For a young ruffian flinging down his trull.
+
+     Your clear eye flashing with precocity,
+       You have displayed yourself proud architect
+       Of fabrics so audaciously correct
+     That we may guess what your ripe prime will be.
+
+     Poet, our blood ebbs out through every pore;
+     Is it, perchance, the robe the Centaur bore,
+       Which made a sullen streamlet of each vein,
+
+     Was three times dipped within the venom fell
+     Of those old reptiles fierce and terrible
+       Whom, in his cradle, Hercules had slain?
+
+
+
+
+     MUSIC
+
+
+     Oft Music, as it were some moving mighty sea,
+       Bears me towards my pale
+     Star: in clear space, or 'neath a vaporous canopy
+       On-floating, I set sail.
+
+     With heaving chest which strains forward, and lungs outblown,
+       I climb the ridgèd steeps
+     Of those high-pilèd clouds which 'thwart the night are thrown,
+       Veiling its starry deeps.
+
+     I suffer all the throes, within my quivering form,
+       Of a great ship in pain,
+     Now a soft wind, and now the writhings of a storm
+
+       Upon the vasty main
+     Rock me: at other times a death-like calm, the bare
+       Mirror of my despair.
+
+
+
+
+     THE CATS
+
+
+     The lover and the stern philosopher
+       Both love, in their ripe time, the confident
+       Soft cats, the house's chiefest ornament,
+     Who like themselves are cold and seldom stir.
+
+     Of knowledge and of pleasure amorous,
+       Silence they seek and Darkness' fell domain;
+       Had not their proud souls scorned to brook his rein,
+     They would have made grim steeds for Erebus.
+
+     Pensive they rest in noble attitudes
+     Like great stretched sphinxes in vast solitudes
+       Which seem to sleep wrapt in an endless dream;
+
+     Their fruitful loins are full of sparks divine,
+     And gleams of gold within their pupils shine
+       As 'twere within the shadow of a stream.
+
+
+
+
+     THE SADNESS OF THE MOON
+
+
+     This evening the Moon dreams more languidly,
+       Like a beauty who on mounded cushions rests,
+     And with her light hand fondles lingeringly,
+       Before she sleeps, the slope of her sweet breasts.
+
+     On her soft satined avalanches' height
+       Dying, she laps herself for hours and hours
+     In long, long swoons, and gazes at the white
+       Visions which rise athwart the blue like flowers.
+
+     When sometimes in her perfect indolence
+     She lets a furtive tear steal gently thence,
+       Some pious poet, a lone, sleepless one,
+
+     Takes in his hollowed hand this gem, shot through,
+     Like an opal stone, with gleams of every hue,
+       And in his heart's depths hides it from the sun.
+
+
+
+
+     MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA
+
+     Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache,
+       Plunged in this squalid city's filthy sea,
+     For another ocean where the splendours break
+       Blue, clear, and deep as is virginity.
+     Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache?
+
+     The sea, the sea unending, comforts us!
+       What demon gave the hoarse old sea who sings
+     To her mumbling hurricanes' organ thunderous
+       The god-like power to cradle sorrowful things?
+     The sea, the sea unending, comforts us.
+
+     Carry me, wagon, bear me, barque, away!
+       Far! Far! For here the mud is made of tears!
+     Does Agatha's sad heart not sometimes say:
+       "O far from shudderings and crimes and fears,
+     Carry me, wagon; bear me barque, away?"
+
+     How far thou art, O scented paradise,
+       O paradise where all is love and joy,
+     Where all is worthy love 'neath the azure skies,
+       And the heart drowns in bliss without alloy!
+     How far thou art, O scented paradise!
+
+     But the green paradise of childish loves,
+       The games, the songs, the kisses and the flowers,
+     The laughing draughts of wine in hidden groves,
+       The violins throbbing through the twilight hours,
+     --But the green paradise of childish loves,
+
+     The artless paradise of stealthy joys,
+       Is that already leagues beyond Cathay?
+     And can one, with a little plaintive noise,
+       Bring it again that is so far away--
+     The artless paradise of stealthy joys?
+
+
+
+
+     THE OWLS
+
+
+     'Neath their black yews in solemn state
+       The owls are sitting in a row
+       Like foreign gods; and even so
+     Blink their red eyes; they meditate.
+
+     Quite motionless they hold them thus
+       Until at last the day is done,
+       And driving down the slanting sun,
+     The sad night is victorious.
+
+     They teach the wise who gives them ear
+     That in this world he most should fear
+       All things which loud or restless be.
+
+     Who, dazzled by a passing shade,
+       Follows it, never will be free
+     Till the dread penalty be paid.
+
+FINIS
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Three Hills, by 
+John Collings Squire and Charles Baudelaire
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Three Hills, by J.C. Squire.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+
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+<body>
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+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Three Hills, by 
+John Collings Squire and Charles Baudelaire
+
+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 Three Hills
+       And other Poems
+
+Author: John Collings Squire
+        Charles Baudelaire
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2011 [EBook #36620]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THREE HILLS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marc D'Hooghe & Andrea Ballat http://www.freeliterature.org
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<h1>THE THREE HILLS</h1>
+
+<h3>AND OTHER POEMS</h3>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>J.C. SQUIRE</h2>
+
+
+<h5>LONDON: HOWARD LATIMER LTD.</h5>
+
+<h5>GREAT QUEEN STREET, KINGSWAY</h5>
+
+<h5>MCMXIII</h5>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h5>TO</h5>
+
+<h5>FRANCIS BURROWS</h5>
+
+<hr style="width: 95%;" />
+
+<p class="small">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">CONTENTS</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ANTINOMIES_ON_A_RAILWAY_STATION">ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_THREE_HILLS">THE THREE HILLS</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_CHANT">A CHANT</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ARTEMIS_ALTERA">ARTEMIS ALTERA</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#STARLIGHT">STARLIGHT</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FLORIANS_SONG">FLORIAN'S SONG</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#DIALOGUE">DIALOGUE</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#CREPUSCULAR">CREPUSCULAR</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#AT_NIGHT">AT NIGHT</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FOR_MUSIC">FOR MUSIC</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ROOF">THE ROOF</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TREETOPS">TREETOPS</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#IN_THE_PARK">IN THE PARK</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SONG">SONG</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TOWN">TOWN</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_MEMORIAL">A MEMORIAL</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FRIENDSHIPS_GARLAND">FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND</a>&mdash;I</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;">&mdash;II</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;">&mdash;III</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#LINES">LINES ON THE EARTHLY PARADISE</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ECHOES">ECHOES</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_FUGITIVE">THE FUGITIVE</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#IN_AN_ORCHARD">IN THE ORCHARD</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#IN_A_CHAIR">IN A CHAIR</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_DAY">A DAY</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_MIND_OF_MAN">THE MIND OF MAN</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_REASONABLE_PROTESTATION">A REASONABLE PROTESTATION</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</a></span><br /><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">TWELVE TRANSLATIONS FROM CHARLES BAUDELAIRE</span><br /><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TOUT_ENTIERE">TOUT ENTIÈRE</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ALCHEMY_OF_GRIEF">THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SPLEEN">SPLEEN</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_VOYAGE_TO_CYTHERA">A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_CRACKED_BELL">THE CRACKED BELL</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_OFFENDED_MOON">THE OFFENDED MOON</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TO_THEODORE_DE_BANVILLE">TO THEODORE BANVILLE, 1984</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MUSIC">MUSIC</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_CATS">THE CATS</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_SADNESS_OF_THE_MOON">THE SADNESS OF THE MOON</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MOESTA_ET_ERRABUNDA">MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_OWLS">THE OWLS</a></span>
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Many of the above poems have appeared in the "British Review," the
+"Eye-Witness," the "New Witness," the "Oxford and Cambridge Review," the
+"New Statesman," and the "New Age," to the Editors of which thanks are
+due for permission to reprint. Three of the short poems and most of the
+translations are extracted from an earlier volume.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+<b><a name="ANTINOMIES_ON_A_RAILWAY_STATION" id="ANTINOMIES_ON_A_RAILWAY_STATION"></a>ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+As I stand waiting in the rain<br />
+For the foggy hoot of the London train,<br />
+Gazing at silent wall and lamp<br />
+And post and rail and platform damp,<br />
+What is this power that comes to my sight<br />
+That I see a night without the night,<br />
+That I see them clear, yet look them through,<br />
+The silvery things and the darkly blue,<br />
+That the solid wall seems soft as death,<br />
+A wavering and unanchored wraith,<br />
+And rails that shine and stones that stream<br />
+Unsubstantial as a dream?<br />
+What sudden door has opened so,<br />
+What hand has passed, that I should know<br />
+This moving vision not of trance<br />
+That melts the globe of circumstance,<br />
+This sight that marks not least or most<br />
+And makes a stone a passing ghost?<br />
+<br />
+Is it that a year ago<br />
+I stood upon this self-same spot;<br />
+Is it that since a year ago<br />
+The place and I have altered not;<br />
+Is it that I half forgot,<br />
+A year ago, and all despised<br />
+For a space the things that I had prized:<br />
+The race of life, the glittering show?<br />
+Is it that now a year has passed<br />
+Of vain pursuit of glittering things,<br />
+Of fruitless searching, shouting, running,<br />
+And greedy lies and candour cunning,<br />
+Here as I stand the year above<br />
+Sudden the heats and the strivings fail<br />
+And fall away, a fluctuant veil,<br />
+And the fixed familiar stones restore<br />
+The old appearance-buried core,<br />
+The moveless and essential me,<br />
+The eternal personality<br />
+Alone enduring first and last?<br />
+<br />
+No, this I have known in other ways,<br />
+In other places, other days.<br />
+Not only here, on this one peak,<br />
+Do fixity and beauty speak<br />
+Of the delusiveness of change,<br />
+Of the transparency of form,<br />
+The bootless stress of minds that range,<br />
+The awful calm behind the storm.<br />
+In many places, many days,<br />
+The invaded soul receives the rays<br />
+Of countries she was nurtured in,<br />
+Speaks in her silent language strange<br />
+To that beyond which is her kin.<br />
+Even in peopled streets at times<br />
+A metaphysic arm is thrust<br />
+Through the partitioning fabric thin,<br />
+And tears away the darkening pall<br />
+Cast by the bright phenomenal,<br />
+And clears the obscured spirit's mirror<br />
+From shadows of deceptive error,<br />
+And shows the bells and all their ringing,<br />
+And all the crowds and all their singing,<br />
+Carillons that are nothing's chimes<br />
+And dust that is not even dust....<br />
+But rarely hold I converse thus<br />
+Where shapes are bright and clamorous,<br />
+More often comes the word divine<br />
+In places motionless and far;<br />
+Beneath the white peculiar shine<br />
+Of sunless summer afternoons;<br />
+At eventide on pale lagoons<br />
+Where hangs reflected one pale star;<br />
+Or deep in the green solitudes<br />
+Of still erect entrancèd woods.<br />
+<br />
+O, in the woods alone lying,<br />
+Scarce a bough in the wind sighing,<br />
+Gaze I long with fervid power<br />
+At leaf and branch and grass and flower,<br />
+Breathe I breaths of trembling sight<br />
+Shed from great urns of green delight,<br />
+Take I draughts and drink them up<br />
+Poured from many a stalk and cup.<br />
+Now do I burn for nothing more<br />
+Than thus to gaze, thus to adore<br />
+This exquisiteness of nature ever<br />
+In silence....<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">But with instant light</span><br />
+Rends the film; with joy I quiver<br />
+To see with new celestial sight<br />
+Flower and leaf and grass and tree,<br />
+Doomed barks on an eternal sea,<br />
+Flit phantom-like as transient smoke.<br />
+Beauty herself her spell has broke,<br />
+Beauty, the herald and the lure,<br />
+Her message told, may not endure;<br />
+Her portal opened, she has died,<br />
+Supreme immortal suicide.<br />
+Yes, sleepless nature soundless flings<br />
+Invisible grapples round the soul,<br />
+Drawing her through the web of things<br />
+To the primal end of her journeyings,<br />
+Her ultimate and constant pole.<br />
+<br />
+For Beauty with her hands that beckon<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is but the Prophet of a Higher,</span><br />
+A flaming and ephemeral beacon,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Phoenix perishing by fire.</span><br />
+Herself from us herself estranges,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Herself her mighty tale doth kill,</span><br />
+That all things change yet nothing changes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That all things move yet all are still.</span><br />
+<br />
+I cannot sink, I cannot climb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now that I see my ancient dwelling,</span><br />
+The central orb untouched of time,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And taste a peace all bliss excelling.</span><br />
+Now I have broken Beauty's wall,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now that my kindred world I hold,</span><br />
+I care not though the cities fall<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the green earth go cold.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="THE_THREE_HILLS" id="THE_THREE_HILLS"></a>THE THREE HILLS</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+There were three hills that stood alone<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With woods about their feet.</span><br />
+They dreamed quiet when the sun shone<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whispered when the rain beat.</span><br />
+<br />
+They wore all three their coronals<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till men with houses came</span><br />
+And scored their heads with pits and walls<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thought the hills were tame.</span><br />
+<br />
+Red and white when day shines bright<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They hide the green for miles,</span><br />
+Where are the old hills gone? At night<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The moon looks down and smiles.</span><br />
+<br />
+She sees the captors small and weak,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She knows the prisoners strong,</span><br />
+She hears the patient hills that speak:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Brothers, it is not long;</span><br />
+<br />
+"Brothers, we stood when they were not<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ten thousand summers past.</span><br />
+Brothers, when they are clean forgot<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We shall outlive the last;</span><br />
+<br />
+"One shall die and one shall flee<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With terror in his train,</span><br />
+And earth shall eat the stones, and we<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall be alone again."</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="A_CHANT" id="A_CHANT"></a>A CHANT</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Gently the petals fall as the tree gently sways<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That has known many springs and many petals fall</span><br />
+Year after year to strew the green deserted ways<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the statue and the pond and the low, broken wall.</span><br />
+<br />
+Faded is the memory of old things done,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peace floats on the ruins of ancient festival;</span><br />
+They lie and forget in the warmth of the sun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a sky silver-blue arches over all.</span><br />
+<br />
+O softly, O tenderly, the heart now stirs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With desires faint and formless; and, seeking not, I find</span><br />
+Quiet thoughts that flash like azure king-fishers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Across the luminous tranquil mirror of the mind.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="ARTEMIS_ALTERA" id="ARTEMIS_ALTERA"></a>ARTEMIS ALTERA</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+O full of candour and compassion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom love and worship both would praise,</span><br />
+Love cannot frame nor worship fashion<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The image of your fearless ways!</span><br />
+<br />
+How show your noble brow's dark pallor,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your chivalrous casque of ebon hair,</span><br />
+Your eyes' bright strength, your lips' soft valour,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your supple shoulders and hands that dare?</span><br />
+<br />
+Our souls when naïvely you examine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your sword of innocence, flaming, huge,</span><br />
+Sweeps over us, and there is famine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the ports of subterfuge.</span><br />
+<br />
+You hate contempt and love not laughter;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With your sharp spear of virgin will</span><br />
+You harry the wicked strong; but after,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O huntress who could never kill,</span><br />
+<br />
+Should they be trodden down or pierced,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swift, swift, you fly with burning cheek</span><br />
+To place your beauty's shield reversed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Above the vile defenceless weak!</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="STARLIGHT" id="STARLIGHT"></a>STARLIGHT</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Last night I lay in an open field<br />
+And looked at the stars with lips sealed;<br />
+No noise moved the windless air,<br />
+And I looked at the stars with steady stare.<br />
+<br />
+There were some that glittered and some that shone<br />
+With a soft and equal glow, and one<br />
+That queened it over the sprinkled round,<br />
+Swaying the host with silent sound.<br />
+<br />
+"Calm things," I thought, "in your cavern blue,<br />
+I will learn and hold and master you;<br />
+I will yoke and scorn you as I can,<br />
+For the pride of my heart is the pride of a man."<br />
+<br />
+Grass to my cheek in the dewy field<br />
+I lay quite still with lips sealed,<br />
+And the pride of a man and his rigid gaze<br />
+Stalked like swords on heaven's ways.<br />
+<br />
+But through a sudden gate there stole<br />
+The Universe and spread in my soul;<br />
+Quick went my breath and quick my heart,<br />
+And I looked at the stars with lips apart.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="FLORIANS_SONG" id="FLORIANS_SONG"></a>FLORIAN'S SONG</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+My soul, it shall not take us,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O we will escape</span><br />
+This world that strives to break us<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And cast us to its shape;</span><br />
+Its chisel shall not enter,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its fire shall not touch,</span><br />
+Hard from rim to centre,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We will not crack or smutch.</span><br />
+<br />
+'Gainst words sweet and flowered<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We have an amulet,</span><br />
+We will not play the coward<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For any black threat;</span><br />
+If we but give endurance<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To what is now within&mdash;</span><br />
+The single assurance<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">That it is good to win.</span><br />
+<br />
+Slaves think it better<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be weak than strong,</span><br />
+Whose hate is a fetter<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And their love a thong.</span><br />
+But we will view those others<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With eyes like stone,</span><br />
+And if we have no brothers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We will walk alone.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="DIALOGUE" id="DIALOGUE"></a>DIALOGUE</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE ONE</span><br />
+<br />
+The dead man's gone, the live man's<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">sad, the dying leaf shakes on the tree,</span><br />
+The wind constrains the window panes and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">moans like moaning of the sea,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sour's the taste now culled in haste of</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">lovely things I won too late,</span><br />
+And loud and loud above the crowd the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Voice of One more strong than we.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE OTHER</span><br />
+<br />
+This Voice you hear, this call you fear, is<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">it unprophesied or new?</span><br />
+Were you so insolent to think its rope would<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">never circle you?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did you then beastlike live and walk with</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">ears and eyes that would not turn?</span><br />
+Who bade you hope your service 'scape in<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">that eternal retinue?</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE ONE</span><br />
+<br />
+No; for I swear now bare's the tree and loud<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">the moaning of the wind,</span><br />
+I walked no rut with eyelids shut, my ears<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">and eyes were never blind,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Only my eager thoughts I bent on many</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">things that I desired</span><br />
+To make my greedy heart content ere flesh<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">and blood I left behind.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE OTHER</span><br />
+<br />
+Ignorance, then, was all your fault and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">filmèd eyes that could not know,</span><br />
+That half discerned and never learned the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">temporal way that men must go;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You set the image of the world high for</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">your heart's idolatry,</span><br />
+Though with your lips you called the world<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">a toy, a ghost, a passing show.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE ONE</span><br />
+<br />
+No, no; this is not true; my lips spoke<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">only what my heart believed.</span><br />
+Called I the world a toy; I spoke not echo-like<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">or self-deceived.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But that I thought the toy was mine to play</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">with, and the passing show</span><br />
+Would sate at least my passing lusts, and did<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">not, therefore am I grieved.</span><br />
+<br />
+What did I do that I must bear this lifelong<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">tyranny of my fate,</span><br />
+That I must writhe in bonds unsought of<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">accidental love and hate?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had chance but joinèd different dice, but</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">once or twice, but once or twice,</span><br />
+All lovely things that I desired I should have<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">held before too late.</span><br />
+<br />
+Surely I knew that flesh was grass nor valued<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">overmuch the prize,</span><br />
+But all the powers of chance conspired to<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">cheat a man both just and wise.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Happy I'd been had I but had my due</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">reward, and not a sword</span><br />
+Flaming in diabolic hand between me and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">my Paradise.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE OTHER</span><br />
+<br />
+No hooded band of fates did stand your<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">heart's ambitions to gainsay,</span><br />
+No flaming brand in evil hand was ever<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">thrust across your way,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Only the things all men must meet, the</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">common attributes of men,</span><br />
+That men may flinch to see or, seeing, deny,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">but avoid them no man may.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fall the dice, not once or twice but always, to<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">make the self-same sum;</span><br />
+Chance what may, a life's a life and to a<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">single goal must come;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though a man search far and wide, never</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">is hunger satisfied;</span><br />
+Nature brings her natural fetters, man is<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">meshed and the wise are dumb.</span><br />
+<br />
+O vain all art to assuage a heart with accents<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">of a mortal tongue,</span><br />
+All earthly words are incomplete and only<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">sweet are the songs unsung,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never yet was cause for regret, yet regret</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">must afflict us all,</span><br />
+Better it were to grasp the world 'thwart<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">which this world is a curtain flung.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="CREPUSCULAR" id="CREPUSCULAR"></a>CREPUSCULAR</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+No creature stirs in the wide fields.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rifted western heaven yields</span><br />
+The dying sun's illumination.<br />
+This is the hour of tribulation<br />
+When, with clear sight of eve engendered,<br />
+Day's homage to delusion rendered,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mute at her window sits the soul.</span><br />
+<br />
+Clouds and skies and lakes and seas,<br />
+Valleys and hills and grass and trees,<br />
+Sun, moon, and stars, all stand to her<br />
+Limbs of one lordless challenger,<br />
+Who, without deigning taunt or frown,<br />
+Throws a perennial gauntlet down:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Come conquer me and take thy toll."</span><br />
+<br />
+No cowardice or fear she knows,<br />
+But, as once more she girds, there grows<br />
+An unresignèd hopelessness<br />
+From memory of former stress.<br />
+Head bent, she muses whilst he waits:<br />
+How with such weapons dint his plates?<br />
+How quell this vast and sleepless giant<br />
+Calmly, immortally defiant,<br />
+<br />
+How fell him, bind him, and control<br />
+With a silver cord and a golden bowl?<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="AT_NIGHT" id="AT_NIGHT"></a>AT NIGHT</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Dark firtops foot the moony sky,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blue moonlight bars the drive;</span><br />
+Here at the open window I<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sit smoking and alive.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wind in the branches swells and breaks<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like ocean on a beach;</span><br />
+Deep in the sky and my heart there wakes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A thought I cannot reach.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="FOR_MUSIC" id="FOR_MUSIC"></a>FOR MUSIC</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Death in the cold grey morning<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came to the man where he lay;</span><br />
+And the wind shivered, and the tree shuddered<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the dawn was grey.</span><br />
+<br />
+And the face of the man was grey in the dawn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the watchers by the bed</span><br />
+Knew, as they heard the shaking of the leaves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the man was dead.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="THE_ROOF" id="THE_ROOF"></a>THE ROOF</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+I<br />
+<br />
+When the clouds hide the sun away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tall slate roof is dull and grey,</span><br />
+And when the rain adown it streams<br />
+'Tis polished lead with pale-blue gleams.<br />
+<br />
+When the clouds vanish and the rain<br />
+Stops, and the sun comes out again,<br />
+It shimmers golden in the sun<br />
+Almost too bright to look upon.<br />
+<br />
+But soon beneath the steady rays<br />
+The roof is dried and reft of blaze,<br />
+'Tis dusty yellow traversed through<br />
+By long thin lines of deepest blue.<br />
+<br />
+Then at the last, as night draws near,<br />
+The lines grow faint and disappear,<br />
+The roof becomes a purple mist<br />
+A great square darkening amethyst<br />
+<br />
+Which sinks into the gathering shade<br />
+Till separate form and colour fade,<br />
+And it is but a patch which mars<br />
+The beauty of a field of stars.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+II<br />
+<br />
+It stands so lonely in the sky<br />
+The sparrows never come anigh,<br />
+The glossy starlings seldom stop<br />
+To preen and chatter on the top.<br />
+<br />
+For a whole week sometimes up there<br />
+No wing-wave stirs the quiet air,<br />
+The roof lies silent and serene<br />
+As though no life had ever been;<br />
+<br />
+Till some bright afternoon, athwart<br />
+The edge two sudden shadows dart,<br />
+And two white pigeons with pink feet<br />
+Flutter above and pitch on it.<br />
+<br />
+Jerking their necks out as they walk<br />
+They talk awhile their pigeon-talk,<br />
+A low continuous murmur blent<br />
+Of mock reproaches and content.<br />
+<br />
+Then cease, and sit there warm and white<br />
+An hour, till in the fading light<br />
+They wake, and know the close of day,<br />
+Flutter above, and fly away,<br />
+<br />
+Leaving the roof whereon they sat<br />
+As 'twas before, a peaceful flat<br />
+Expanse, as silent and serene<br />
+As though no life had ever been.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="TREETOPS" id="TREETOPS"></a>TREETOPS</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+There beyond my window ledge,<br />
+Heaped against the sky a hedge<br />
+Of huge and wavering treetops stands<br />
+With multitudes of fluttering hands.<br />
+<br />
+Wave they, beat they to and fro,<br />
+Never stillness may they know,<br />
+Plunged by the wind and hurled and torn<br />
+Anguished, purposeless, forlorn.<br />
+<br />
+"O ferocious, O despairing,<br />
+In huddled isolation faring<br />
+Through a scattered universe,<br />
+Lost coins from the Almighty's purse!"<br />
+<br />
+"No, below you do not see<br />
+The firm foundations of the tree;<br />
+Anchored to a rock beneath<br />
+We laugh in the hammering tempest's teeth."<br />
+<br />
+"Boughs like men but burgeons are<br />
+On an adamantine star;<br />
+Men are myriad blossoms on<br />
+A staunch and cosmic skeleton."<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="IN_THE_PARK" id="IN_THE_PARK"></a>IN THE PARK</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+This dense hard ground I tread<br />
+These iron bars that ripple past,<br />
+Will they unshaken stand when I am dead<br />
+And my deep thoughts outlast?<br />
+<br />
+Is it my spirit slips,<br />
+Falls, like this leaf I kick aside;<br />
+This firmness that I feel about my lips,<br />
+Is it but empty pride?<br />
+<br />
+Mute knowledge conquers me;<br />
+I contemplate them as they are,<br />
+Faint earth and shadowy bars that shake and flee,<br />
+Less hard, more transient far<br />
+<br />
+Than those unbodied hues<br />
+The sunset flings on the calm river;<br />
+And, as I look, a swiftness thrills my shoes<br />
+And my hands with empire quiver.<br />
+<br />
+Now light the ground I tread,<br />
+I walk not now but rather float;<br />
+Clear but unreal is the scene outspread,<br />
+Pitiful, thin, remote.<br />
+<br />
+Poor vapour is the grass,<br />
+So frail the trees and railings seem,<br />
+That, did I sweep my hand around, 'twould pass<br />
+Through them, as in a dream.<br />
+<br />
+Godlike I fear no changes;<br />
+Shatter the world with thunders loud,<br />
+Still would I ray-like flit about the ranges<br />
+Of dark and ruddy cloud.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="SONG" id="SONG"></a>SONG</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+There is a wood where the fairies dance<br />
+All night long in a ring of mushrooms daintily,<br />
+By each tree bole sits a squirrel or a mole,<br />
+And the moon through the branches darts.<br />
+<br />
+Light on the grass their slim limbs glance,<br />
+Their shadows in the moonlight swing in quiet unison,<br />
+And the moon discovers that they all have lovers,<br />
+But they never break their hearts.<br />
+<br />
+They never grieve at all for sands that run,<br />
+They never know regret for a deed that's done,<br />
+And they never think of going to a shed with a gun<br />
+At the rising of the sun.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="TOWN" id="TOWN"></a>TOWN</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Mostly in a dull rotation<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We bear our loads and eat and drink and sleep,</span><br />
+Feeling no tears, knowing no meditation&mdash;<br />
+Too tired to think, too clogged with earth to weep.<br />
+<br />
+Dimly convinced, poor groping wretches,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like eyeless insects in a murky pond</span><br />
+That out and out this city stretches,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away, away, and there is no beyond.</span><br />
+<br />
+No larger earth, no loftier heaven,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No cleaner, gentler airs to breathe. And yet,</span><br />
+Even to us sometimes is given<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Visions of things we otherwhiles forget.</span><br />
+<br />
+Some day is done, its labour ended,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And as we brood at windows high,</span><br />
+A steady wind from far descended,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blows off the filth that hid the deeper sky;</span><br />
+<br />
+There are the empty waiting spaces,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We watch, we watch, unwinking, pale and dumb,</span><br />
+Till gliding up with noiseless paces<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Night sweeps o'er all the wide arch: Night has come.</span><br />
+<br />
+Not that sick false night of the city,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lurid and low and yellow and obscene,</span><br />
+But mother Night, pure, full of pity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The star-strewn Night, blue, potent and serene.</span><br />
+<br />
+O, as we gaze the clamour ceases,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The turbid world around grows dim and small,</span><br />
+The soft-shed influence releases<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our shrouded spirits from their dusty pall.</span><br />
+<br />
+No more we hear the turbulent traffic,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not scorned but unremembered is the day;</span><br />
+The Night, all luminous and seraphic,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has brushed its heavy memories away.</span><br />
+<br />
+The great blue Night so clear and kindly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little stars so wide-eyed and so still,</span><br />
+Open a door for souls that blindly<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had wandered, tunnelling the endless hill;</span><br />
+<br />
+They draw the long-untraversed portal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our souls slip out and tremble and expand,</span><br />
+The immortal feels for the immortal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The eternal holds the eternal by the hand.</span><br />
+<br />
+Impalpably we are led and lifted,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Softly we shake into the gulf of blue,</span><br />
+The last environing veil is rifted<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lost horizons float into our view.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lost lands, lone seas, lands that afar gleam<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a miraculous beauty, faint yet clear,</span><br />
+Forgotten lands of night and star-gleam,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seas that are somewhere but that are not here.</span><br />
+<br />
+Borne without effort or endeavour,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swifter and more ethereal than the wind,</span><br />
+In level track we stream, whilst ever<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fair pale panorama rolls behind.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now fleets below a trancèd moorland,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A sweep of glimmering immobility;</span><br />
+Now craggy cliff and dented foreland<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pass back and there beyond unfolds the sea.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now wastes of water heaving, drawing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great darkling tracts of patterned restlessness,</span><br />
+With whitened waves round rough rocks mawing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And licking islands in their fierce caress.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now coasts with capes and ribboned beaches<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Set silent 'neath the canopy sapphirine,</span><br />
+And estuaries and river reaches<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Phantasmal silver in the night's soft shine.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="hra" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+Ah, these fair woods the spirit crosses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These quiet lakes, these stretched dreaming fields,</span><br />
+These undulate downs with piny bosses<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pointing the ridges of their sloping shields.</span><br />
+<br />
+These valleys and these heights that screen them,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These tawnier sands where grass and tree are not,</span><br />
+Ah, we have known them, we have seen them<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Long, long ago or ever we forgot;</span><br />
+<br />
+We know them all, these placid countries,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what the pathway is and what the goal;</span><br />
+These are the gates and these the sentries<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That guard the ancient fortress of the soul.</span><br />
+<br />
+And onward speed we flying, flying,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over the sundering worlds of hill and plain</span><br />
+To where they rear their heads undying<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The unnamed mountains of old days again.</span><br />
+<br />
+The snows upon their calm still summits,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The chasms, the lines of trees that foot the snow,</span><br />
+Curving like inky frozen comets,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into the forest-ocean spread below.</span><br />
+<br />
+The glisten where the peaks are hoarest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The soundless darkness of the sunken vales,</span><br />
+The folding leagues of shadowy forest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wave beyond wave till all distinctness fails.</span><br />
+<br />
+So invulnerable it is, so deathless,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So floods the air the loveliness of it,</span><br />
+That we stay dazzled, rapt and breathless,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our beings ebbing to the infinite.</span><br />
+<br />
+There as we pause, there as we hover,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Moveless in ecstasy, a sudden light</span><br />
+Breaks in our eyes, and we discover<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We sit at windows gazing to the night.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wistful and tired, with eyes a-tingle<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where still the sting of Beauty faintly smarts,</span><br />
+But with our mute regrets there mingle<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thanks for the resurrection of our hearts.</span><br />
+<br />
+O night so great that will not mock us!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O stars so wise that understand the weak!</span><br />
+O vast consoling hands that rock us!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O strong and perfect tongues that speak!</span><br />
+<br />
+O night enrobed in azure splendour!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O whispering stars whose radiance falls like dew!</span><br />
+O mighty presences and tender,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You have given us back the dreams our childhood knew!</span><br />
+<br />
+Lulled by your visions without number,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We seek our beds content and void of pain,</span><br />
+And dreaming drowse and dreaming slumber<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dreaming wake to see the day again.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="A_MEMORIAL" id="A_MEMORIAL"></a>A MEMORIAL</b><br />
+<br />
+(F.T.)<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+The cord broke, and the tent<br />
+Slipped, and the silken roof<br />
+Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof<br />
+Of the deliberate firmament.<br />
+Yet cared we not; how should we care?<br />
+Knowing that labourless now he breathes<br />
+A golden paradisal air<br />
+Where with more certain craft he wreathes<br />
+Bright braids of words more wise and fair<br />
+Than ever his earthly fabrics were,<br />
+That his unwavering eyes made fresh,<br />
+Purged and regarbed in fadeless flesh,<br />
+What he then darkly guessed behold,<br />
+And watch with an abiding joy<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The eternal mysteries unfold</span><br />
+Which do his now transfigured songs evermore employ.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brother, yet great thy power;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou stood'st as on a tower</span><br />
+Small 'neath the stars yet high above the fields;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In thy alembic song</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Imagination strong</span><br />
+Distilled what essences the quest to mortals yields.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This thy reward well-won,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For every morning's sun</span><br />
+Found thy heart's firm allegiance still unshaken;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No temporal ache or smart</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Drave Beauty from thy heart,</span><br />
+And by thy mighty mistress never wast forsaken.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yes; for though stringent was the test,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When that thy trial was bitterest,</span><br />
+Steadfast thou did'st remain; unshod<br />
+The harrows of Pain thy feet once trod,<br />
+Humiliate as thy sad song tells<br />
+Before the vault's white sentinels.<br />
+Friendless and faint thou sojourned'st there,<br />
+A bowed, brave, timid wanderer,<br />
+A lonely nomad of the spirit,<br />
+Who did a triple curse inherit,<br />
+Hunger, regret and memory.<br />
+Yet never did they vanquish thee;<br />
+When nighest broken, most alone,<br />
+Thy unassuagèd thoughts could clamber<br />
+To beauty on her ageless throne;<br />
+Thou wert as one in torture chamber<br />
+Who sees the blue through an open casement<br />
+And hammers his soul to endure the time<br />
+Of his corporeal abasement;<br />
+Nor writhed'st at thine or others' fault,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But with grim tenderness did salt</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy cicatrices with a rhyme.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not the most sable flame of gloom</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Could penetrate thy inmost room;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But through the walls thy spirit sucked</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Into that cloistral hermitage</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Stray lovely things, moonbeams and snows</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The far sky shed into thy cage,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, from the very gutter plucked,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A lost and mired campestral rose.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ended that purgatorial period,<br />
+Filled was thy wallet and thy feet were shod,<br />
+The leaden weights were moved, the rack withdrawn,<br />
+Thou didst traverse the dewy fields of dawn,<br />
+Watch sunsets blazoning over upland turf,<br />
+Pull poppies from the frontiers of the surf,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dwelled'st with love and human eyes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Vigilant, calm and wise.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But still as when thy bark did ride</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Derelict on the city's tide,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As then for penury now for pride</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy bodily senses were denied;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Though they cried out and would not sleep,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ascetic thou didst armour them</span><br />
+Lest acid pleasure should eat thine art's pure gem.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hourly the tempter's ambuscades</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But thou didst guard the gates and keep</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy senses' hungry colonnades</span><br />
+Accessible but to Beauty's ministers,<br />
+Unlit by any ruby flame but hers.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Immuring so thy spirit eager</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Within a body frail and meagre,</span><br />
+Far from the meads of earthly milk and honey,<br />
+Yet franchised of more wondrous territories,<br />
+Like those poor Bedouin of Arabia the Stony<br />
+Who roam spare-fed and hollow-eyed but free<br />
+By day to wander and by night to camp<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In vast serenity,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Compassed by God's great silent glories</span><br />
+The sun's gold splendour and the moon's white lamp,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Folded and safe from harm</span><br />
+Beneath the mighty sky's protecting arm.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ha! but the Titan's ardour</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wherewith thou scour'dst the vast,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To spoil the starry larder</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of fruits of heavenly taste!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Urania's fiercest servant,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With thirst as furnace fervent</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And serene burning brow,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Worthy of thy great lineage, thou</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Drankest without a shudder</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In proud humility</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Milk from that vast primæval udder</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That swells for such as thee,</span><br />
+Milk from the fountains of the Universe<br />
+That cowards deem infected with a curse,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That flushes him who drinks</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor shrinks</span><br />
+The exalted anguish of diurnal draughts<br />
+To a clear vision, more intolerable<br />
+In its blissful pain, than love's most ardent shafts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of the seats where she doth dwell,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She, whom thou didst confess</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Enticed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thee hot to her throne to press</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For the greater glory of Christ</span><br />
+To uplift the curtains of her closed eyes.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not all was for thy learning</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor any mortal's else;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Only for thy discerning</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sporadic syllables</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of those supernal glances</span><br />
+Coffer of which her marble countenance is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet vain was not the adventure,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Reluctant though the prize,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou gainedst a debenture</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On the fringe of Beauty's eyes;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Such fragmentary trophy</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As some cross-tunic'd knight</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From Saladin or Sophy</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">May have won in sword's despite,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not the dear polar shrines</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Held captive by the Paynim</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But still as fruit of wars</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some stone from Sion's lines,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some relic that might sain him</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of life's uncounted scars.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Self-dedicated anchorite,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Never disdainful of the dust,</span><br />
+But conscious of the overcoming night<br />
+That must engulph the blooms and berries of lust,<br />
+And unforgetful of the enveloping day beyond;<br />
+Though a sweet show was spread for thy delight<br />
+Resolved not to be so fond<br />
+As, in ephemeral gauds caparisoned,<br />
+To station feet upon a world of vapour<br />
+Soft as a dream and fleeting as a taper;<br />
+Thou thoughtest nevertheless that thou shouldst occupy<br />
+Thyself, as it seemed to thee, most worthily<br />
+Until the rapid hour when thou shouldst die;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So, in a world of seemings,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of shadows and of dreamings,</span><br />
+Busied thyself to fashion and record<br />
+Unto the greater glory of thy Lord,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For thy proud lady Beauty His</span><br />
+Most excellent and humble handmaid is.<br />
+Says one thy service was too ceremonial,<br />
+Thy vestments irised overmuch, thy ritual<br />
+Too elaborate and thy rubric too obscure,<br />
+Therefore thy gift of chant and orison<br />
+Beneath the perfect service men have done.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O but thy notes were pure,</span><br />
+And in a day like this we now endure<br />
+No fault it was in thee to set thy camp<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Remote, aloof, aloof,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In a far fastness proof</span><br />
+'Gainst the mephitic odours of the swamp.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which being so, no gain</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Twere to explain</span><br />
+An exquisiteness too meticulous;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let us but say it pleased thee thus,</span><br />
+Dowered with imagination heavy-fruited,<br />
+To raise a column garlanded and fluted<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For Him thy heavenly abacus.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This was thine offering thou didst make</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In founded hope that He</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The craftsman's best would take</span><br />
+Well knowing its unobscure sincerity.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The cord broke and the tent</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Slipped and the silken roof</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of the deliberate firmament.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We still in this terrene abode</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Forlorn must tread the difficult road,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And all meek thanks and all belief</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hardly suffice to rampart grief.</span><br />
+For gone is Beauty's votary apostolic<br />
+And are her temples now delivered over<br />
+To blindworms and libidinous goats that frolic<br />
+In places hallowed by that celestial lover.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Save only two or three</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With undivided minds like thee,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">None now remains that girds</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The peregrinal loin,</span><br />
+None reverent of Beauty's holy tongue,<br />
+But counterfeiters of her imaged coin,<br />
+Iconoclasts, breakers of carven words,<br />
+Seekers of worthless treasure in the dung,<br />
+Mock mages and cacophonous charlatans,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And pismire artisans</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Labouring to make</span><br />
+Such mirrored replicas of Nature's face<br />
+As might the surface of a stagnant lake.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet we should anger not,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor let that be forgot,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The testament of stateliest worth</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He left us when he fled the earth.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The mausoleum made of rhyme,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fair in its unfrequented field,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which shall invulnerably shield</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His memory to the end of Time;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The house with curtain-flaming halls</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And roof of gold and jewelled walls</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For which the fisher sank his net</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Into the deepest pools of speech,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Scooping rich conchs and ribbons wet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That a less venturous could not reach,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The hunter tracked the metaphor</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On many a foamy silver coast</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A hundred leagues beyond the most</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fabulous Tellurian shore.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Magnificent he was and mild,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Glad to be still and glad to speak,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Daring yet delicate as a child,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Faithful, compassionate and holy,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, being human, strong and weak,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And full of hope and melancholy.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No more than we, able to shed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Man's nature he inherited,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Neither sin's garrison to kill,</span><br />
+Yet at the last with constancy so great<br />
+As the world's vanities to abnegate,<br />
+Sternly to will the sacrifice of will<br />
+Upon the altars of the Uncreate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So that he lived before he died</span><br />
+As one who hourly to himself denied<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All joys save those that cannot pall,</span><br />
+Who having nothing yet had all.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="FRIENDSHIPS_GARLAND" id="FRIENDSHIPS_GARLAND"></a>FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+I<br />
+<br />
+When I was a boy there was a friend of mine,<br />
+We thought ourselves warriors and grown folk swine,<br />
+Stupid old animals who never understood<br />
+And never had an impulse and said "you must be good."<br />
+<br />
+We slank like stoats and fled like foxes,<br />
+We put cigarettes in the pillar-boxes,<br />
+Lighted cigarettes and letters all aflame&mdash;<br />
+O the surprise when the postman came!<br />
+<br />
+We stole eggs and apples and made fine hay<br />
+In people's houses when people were away,<br />
+We broke street lamps and away we ran,<br />
+Then I was a boy but now I am a man.<br />
+<br />
+Now I am a man and don't have any fun,<br />
+I hardly ever shout and I never never run,<br />
+And I don't care if he's dead that friend of mine,<br />
+For then I was a boy and now I am a swine.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+II<br />
+<br />
+We met again the other night<br />
+With people; you were quite polite,<br />
+Shook my hand and spoke awhile<br />
+Of common things with cautious smile;<br />
+Paid the usual debt men owe<br />
+To fellows whom they used to know.<br />
+But, when our eyes met full, yours dropped,<br />
+And sudden, resolute, you stopped,<br />
+Moving with hurried syllables<br />
+To make remarks to some one else.<br />
+I caught them not, to me they said:<br />
+"Let the dead past bury its dead,<br />
+Things were very different then,<br />
+Boys are fools and men are men."<br />
+Several times the other night<br />
+You did your best to be polite;<br />
+When in the conversation's round<br />
+You heard my tongue's familiar sound<br />
+You bent in eager pose my way<br />
+To hear what I had got to say;<br />
+Trying, you thought with some success,<br />
+To hide the chasm's nakedness.<br />
+But on your eyes hard films there lay;<br />
+No mock-interest, no pretence<br />
+Could veil your blank indifference;<br />
+And if thoughts came recalling things<br />
+Far-off, far-off, from those old springs<br />
+When underneath the moon and sun<br />
+Our separate pulses beat as one,<br />
+Vagrant tender thoughts that asked<br />
+Admittance found the portal masked;<br />
+You spurned them; when I'd said my say,<br />
+With laugh and nod you turned away<br />
+To toss your friends some easy jest<br />
+That smote my brow and stabbed my breast.<br />
+Foolish though it be and vain<br />
+I am not master of my pain,<br />
+And when I said good-night to you<br />
+I hoped we should not meet again,<br />
+And wondered how the soul I knew<br />
+Could change so much; have I changed too?<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+III<br />
+<br />
+There was a man whom I knew well<br />
+Whose choice it was to live in hell;<br />
+Reason there was why that was so<br />
+But what it was I do not know.<br />
+<br />
+He had a room high in a tower,<br />
+And sat there drinking hour by hour,<br />
+Drinking, drinking all alone<br />
+With candles and a wall of stone.<br />
+<br />
+Now and then he sobered down,<br />
+And stayed a night with me in town.<br />
+If he found me with a crowd,<br />
+He shrank and did not speak aloud.<br />
+<br />
+He sat in a corner silently,<br />
+And others of the company<br />
+Would note his curious face and eye,<br />
+His twitching face and timid eye.<br />
+<br />
+When they saw the eye he had<br />
+They thought perhaps that he was mad.<br />
+I knew he was clear and sane<br />
+But had a horror in his brain.<br />
+<br />
+He had much money and one friend<br />
+And drank quite grimly to the end.<br />
+Why he chose to die in hell<br />
+I did not ask, he did not tell.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="LINES" id="LINES"></a>LINES</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+When London was a little town<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lean by the river's marge,</span><br />
+The poet paced it with a frown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He thought it very large.</span><br />
+<br />
+He loved bright ship and pointing steeple<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bridge with houses loaded</span><br />
+And priests and many-coloured people ...<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But ah, they were not woaded!</span><br />
+<br />
+Not all the walls could shed the spell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of meres and marshes green,</span><br />
+Nor any chaffering merchant tell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The beauty that had been:</span><br />
+<br />
+The crying birds at fall of night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fisher in his coracle,</span><br />
+And grim on Ludgate's windy height,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An oak-tree and an oracle.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sick for the past his hair he rent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dropt a tear in season;</span><br />
+If he had cause for his lament<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We have much better reason.</span><br />
+<br />
+For now the fields and paths he knew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are coffined all with bricks,</span><br />
+The lucid silver stream he knew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Runs slimy as the Styx;</span><br />
+<br />
+North and south and east and west,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far as the eye can travel,</span><br />
+Earth with a sombre web is drest<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That nothing can unravel.</span><br />
+<br />
+And we must wear as black a frown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wail with as keen a woe</span><br />
+That London was a little town<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Five hundred years ago.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="hra" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+Yet even this place of steamy stir,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This pit of belch and swallow,</span><br />
+With chrism of gold and gossamer<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The elements can hallow.</span><br />
+<br />
+I have a room in Chancery Lane,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">High in a world of wires,</span><br />
+Whence fall the roofs a ragged plain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wooded with many spires.</span><br />
+<br />
+There in the dawns of summer days<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I stand in adoration,</span><br />
+While London's robed in rainbow haze<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gold illumination.</span><br />
+<br />
+The wizard breezes waft the rays<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shot by the waking sun,</span><br />
+A myriad chimneys softly blaze,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A myriad shadows run.</span><br />
+<br />
+Round the wide rim in radiant mist<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The gentle suburbs quiver,</span><br />
+And nearer lies the shining twist<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Thames, a holy river</span><br />
+<br />
+Left and right my vision drifts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By yonder towers I linger,</span><br />
+Where Westminster's cathedral lifts<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its belled Byzantine finger,</span><br />
+<br />
+And here against my perchèd home<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where hold wise converse daily</span><br />
+The loftier and the lesser dome,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">St. Paul's and the Old Bailey.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="ECHOES" id="ECHOES"></a>ECHOES</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+There is a far unfading city<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where bright immortal people are;</span><br />
+Remote from hollow shame and pity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their portals frame no guiding star</span><br />
+But blightless pleasure's moteless rays<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That follow their footsteps as they dance</span><br />
+Long lutanied measures through a maze<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of flower-like song and dalliance.</span><br />
+<br />
+There always glows the vernal sun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There happy birds for ever sing,</span><br />
+There faint perfumèd breezes run<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through branches of eternal spring;</span><br />
+There faces browned and fruit and milk<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And blue-winged words and rose-bloomed kisses</span><br />
+In galleys gowned with gold and silk<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shake on a lake of dainty blisses.</span><br />
+<br />
+Coyness is not, nor bear they thought<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Save of a shining gracious flow,</span><br />
+All natural joys are temperate sought,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For calm desire there they know,</span><br />
+A fire promiscuous, languorous, kind;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They scorn all fiercer lusts and quarrels,</span><br />
+Nor blow about on anger's wind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor burn with love, nor rust with morals.</span><br />
+<br />
+Folk in the far unfading city,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Burning with lusts my senses are,</span><br />
+I am torn with love and shame and pity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be to my heart a guiding star</span><br />
+Wise youths and maidens in the sun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With eyes that charm and lips that sing,</span><br />
+And gentle arms that rippling run,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shed on my heart your endless spring!</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="THE_FUGITIVE" id="THE_FUGITIVE"></a>THE FUGITIVE</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Flying his hair and his eyes averse,<br />
+Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.<br />
+How could we clear his charms rehearse?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+High on a down we found him last,<br />
+Shy as a hare, he fled as fast;<br />
+How could we clasp him or ever he passed?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+How could we cling to his limbs that shone,<br />
+Ravish his cheeks' red gonfalon,<br />
+Or the wild-skin cloak that he had on?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+For the wind of his feet still straightly shaping,<br />
+He loosed at our breasts from his eyes escaping<br />
+One crooked swift glance like a javelin leaping.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+And his feet passed over the sunset land<br />
+From the place forlorn where a forlorn band<br />
+Watching him flying we still did stand.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.</span><br />
+<br />
+Vanishing now who would not stay<br />
+To the blue hills on the verge of day.<br />
+O soft! soft! Music play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Fading away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">(Fleet are his feet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">And his heart apart)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Fading away.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="IN_AN_ORCHARD" id="IN_AN_ORCHARD"></a>IN AN ORCHARD</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Airy and quick and wise<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the shed light of the sun,</span><br />
+You clasp with friendly eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thoughts from mine that run.</span><br />
+<br />
+But something breaks the link;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I solitary stand</span><br />
+By a giant gully's brink<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In some vast gloomy land.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sole central watcher, I<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With steadfast sadness now</span><br />
+In that waste place descry<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Neath the awful heavens how</span><br />
+<br />
+Your life doth dizzy drop<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A little foam of flame</span><br />
+From a peak without a top<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To a pit without a name.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="IN_A_CHAIR" id="IN_A_CHAIR"></a>IN A CHAIR</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+He room is full of the peace of night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The small flames murmur and flicker and sway,</span><br />
+Within me is neither shadow, nor light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor night, nor twilight, nor dawn, nor day.</span><br />
+<br />
+For the brain strives not to the goal of thought,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the limbs lie wearied, and all desire</span><br />
+Sleeps for a while, and I am naught<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But a pair of eyes that gaze at a fire.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="A_DAY" id="A_DAY"></a>A DAY</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+I. MORNING<br />
+<br />
+The village fades away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where I last night came</span><br />
+Where they housed me and fed me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never asked my name.</span><br />
+<br />
+The sun shines bright, my step is light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I, who have no abode,</span><br />
+Jeer at the stuck, monotonous<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Black posts along the road.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+II. MIDDAY<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The wood is still,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">As here I sit</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">My heart drinks in</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The peace of it.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A something stirs</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">I know not where</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Some quiet spirit</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">In the air.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">O tall straight stems!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">O cool deep green!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">O hand unfelt!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">O face unseen!</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+III. EVENING<br />
+<br />
+The evening closes in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As down this last long lane</span><br />
+I plod; there patter round<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">First heavy drops of rain.</span><br />
+<br />
+Feet ache, legs ache, but now<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Step quickens as I think</span><br />
+Of mounds of bread and cheese<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And something hot to drink.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+IV. NIGHT<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! sleep is sweet, but yet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">I will not sleep awhile</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Nor for a space forget</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The toil of that last mile;</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">But lie awake and feel</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The cool sheets' tremulous kisses</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">O'er all my body steal ...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Is sleep as sweet as this is?</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="THE_MIND_OF_MAN" id="THE_MIND_OF_MAN"></a>THE MIND OF MAN</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+I<br />
+<br />
+Beneath my skull-bone and my hair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Covered like a poisonous well,</span><br />
+There is a land: if you looked there<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What you saw you'd quail to tell.</span><br />
+You that sit there smiling, you<br />
+Know that what I say is true.<br />
+<br />
+My head is very small to touch,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I feel it all from front to back,</span><br />
+An eared round that weighs not much,<br />
+Eyes, nose-holes, and a pulpy crack:<br />
+Oh, how small, how small it is!<br />
+How could countries be in this?<br />
+<br />
+Yet, when I watch with eyelids shut,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It glimmers forth, now dark, now clear,</span><br />
+The city of Cis-Occiput,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The marshes and the writhing mere,</span><br />
+The land that every man I see<br />
+Knows in himself but not in me.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+II<br />
+<br />
+Upon the borders of the weald<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(I walk there first when I step in)</span><br />
+Set in green wood and smiling field,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The city stands, unstained of sin;</span><br />
+White thoughts and wishes pure<br />
+Walk the streets with steps demure.<br />
+<br />
+In its clean groves and spacious halls<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The quiet-eyed inhabitants</span><br />
+Hold innocent sunny festivals<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mingle in decorous dance;</span><br />
+Things that destroy, distort, deface,<br />
+Come never to that lovely place.<br />
+<br />
+Never could evil enter thither,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It could not live in that sweet air,</span><br />
+The shadow of an ill deed must wither<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fall away to nothing there.</span><br />
+You would say as there you stand<br />
+That all was beauty in the land.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="hra" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+But go you out beyond the gateway,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cleave you the woods and pass the plain,</span><br />
+Cross you the frontier down, and straightway<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The trees will end, the grass will wane,</span><br />
+And you will come to a wilderness<br />
+Of sticks and parchèd barrenness.<br />
+<br />
+The middle of the land is this,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A tawny desert midmost set,</span><br />
+Barren of living things it is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saving at night some vampires flit</span><br />
+That nest them in the farther marish<br />
+Where all save vilest things must perish.<br />
+<br />
+Here in this reedy marsh of green<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And oily pools, swarm insects fat</span><br />
+And birds of prey and beasts obscene,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Things that the traveller shudders at,</span><br />
+All cunning things that creep and fly<br />
+To suck men's blood until they die.<br />
+<br />
+Rarely from hence does aught escape<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into the world of outer light,</span><br />
+But now and then some sable shape<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Outward will dash in sudden flight;</span><br />
+And men stand stonied or distraught<br />
+To know the loathly deed or thought.<br />
+<br />
+But, ah! beyond the marsh you reach<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A purulent place more vile than all,</span><br />
+A festering lake too foul for speech,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rotten and black, with coils acrawl,</span><br />
+Where writhe with lecherous squeakings shrill<br />
+Horrors that make the heart stand still.<br />
+<br />
+There, 'neath a heaven diseased, it lies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The mere alive with slimy worms,</span><br />
+With perverse terrible infamies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And murders and repulsive forms</span><br />
+That have no name, but slide here deep<br />
+Whilst I, their holder, silence keep.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="A_REASONABLE_PROTESTATION" id="A_REASONABLE_PROTESTATION"></a>A REASONABLE PROTESTATION</b><br />
+<br />
+[To F., who complained of his vagueness and lack of<br />
+dogmatic statement]<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Not, I suppose, since I deny<br />
+Appearance is reality,<br />
+And doubt the substance of the earth<br />
+Does your remonstrance come to birth;<br />
+Not that at once I both affirm<br />
+'Tis not the skin that makes the worm<br />
+And every tactile thing with mass<br />
+Must find its symbol in the grass<br />
+And with a cool conviction say<br />
+Even a critic's more than clay<br />
+And every dog outlives his day.<br />
+This kind of vagueness suits your view,<br />
+You would not carp at it; for you<br />
+Did never stand with those who take<br />
+Their pleasures in a world opaque.<br />
+For you a tree would never be<br />
+Lovely were it but a tree,<br />
+And earthly splendours never splendid<br />
+If by transience unattended.<br />
+Your eyes are on a farther shore<br />
+Than any of earth; you not adore<br />
+As godhead God's dead hieroglyph,<br />
+Nor would you be perturbed if<br />
+Some prophet with a voice of thunder<br />
+And avalanche arm should blast and founder<br />
+The logical pillars that maintain<br />
+This visible world which loads the brain,<br />
+Loads the brain and withers the heart<br />
+And holds man from his God apart.<br />
+<br />
+But still with you remains the craving<br />
+For some more solid substance, having<br />
+Surface to touch, colour to see,<br />
+And form compact in symmetry.<br />
+You are not satisfied with these<br />
+Vague throbbings, utterless ecstasies,<br />
+Void finds your spirit of delight<br />
+This great indefinite white light,<br />
+Not with such sickles can you reap;<br />
+If a dense earth you cannot keep<br />
+You want a dense heaven as substitute<br />
+With trees of plump celestial fruit,<br />
+Red apples, golden pomegranates,<br />
+And a river flowing by tall gates<br />
+Of topaz and of chrysolite<br />
+And walls of twenty cubits height.<br />
+<br />
+Frank, you cry out against the age!<br />
+Nor you nor I can disengage<br />
+Ourselves from that in which we live<br />
+Nor seize on things God does not give.<br />
+Thirsty as you, perhaps, I long<br />
+For courtyards of eternal song,<br />
+Even as yours my feet would stray<br />
+In a city where 'tis always day<br />
+And a green spontaneous leafy garden<br />
+With God in the middle for a warden;<br />
+But though I trust with strengthening faith<br />
+I'll taste when I have traversed death<br />
+The unimaginable sweetness<br />
+Of certitude of such concreteness,<br />
+How should I draw the hue and scope<br />
+Of substances I only hope<br />
+Or blaze upon a mortal screen<br />
+The evidence of things not seen?<br />
+This art of ours but grows and stirs<br />
+Experience when it registers,<br />
+And you know well as I know well<br />
+This autumn of time in which we dwell<br />
+Is not an age of revelations<br />
+Solid as once, but intimations<br />
+That touch us with warm misty fingers<br />
+Leaving a nameless sense that lingers<br />
+That sight is blind and Time's a snare<br />
+And earth less solid than the air<br />
+And deep below all seeming things<br />
+There sits a steady king of kings<br />
+A radiant ageless permanence,<br />
+A quenchless fount of virtue whence<br />
+We draw our life; a sense that makes<br />
+A staunch conviction nothing shakes<br />
+Of our own immortality.<br />
+And though, being man, with certain glee<br />
+I eat and drink, though I suffer pain,<br />
+And love and hate and love again<br />
+Well or in mode contemptible,<br />
+Thus shackled by the body's spell<br />
+I see through pupils of the beast<br />
+Though it be faint and blurred with mist<br />
+A Star that travels in the East.<br />
+<br />
+I see what I can, not what I will<br />
+In things that move, things that are still,<br />
+Thin motion, even cloudier rest,<br />
+I see the symbols God hath drest<br />
+The moveless trees, the trees that wave<br />
+The clouds that heavenly highways have,<br />
+Horses that run, rocks that are fixt,<br />
+Streams that have rest and motion mixt,<br />
+The main with its abiding flux,<br />
+The wind that up my chimney sucks<br />
+A mounting waterfall of flame,<br />
+Sticks, straws, dust, beetles and that same<br />
+Old blazing sun the Psalmist saw<br />
+A testifier to the law.<br />
+Divinely to the heart they speak<br />
+Saying how they are but weak<br />
+Wan will o' the wisps o'er the crystal sea;<br />
+But stays that sea still dark to me.<br />
+<br />
+Did I now glibly insolent<br />
+Chart the ulterior firmament,<br />
+Would you not know my words were lies,<br />
+Where not my testimonial eyes<br />
+Mortal or spiritual lodge,<br />
+Mere uncorroborated fudge?<br />
+Praise me, though praise I do not want,<br />
+Rather, that I have cast much cant,<br />
+That what I see and feel I write<br />
+Read what I can in this dim light<br />
+Granted to me in nether night.<br />
+And though I am vague and shrink to guess<br />
+God's everlasting purposes,<br />
+And never save in perplext dream<br />
+Have caught the least authentic gleam<br />
+Of the great kingdom and the throne<br />
+In the world that lies behind our own,<br />
+I have not lacked my certainties,<br />
+I have not haggard moaned the skies,<br />
+Now waged unnecessary strife<br />
+Nor scorned nor overvalued life.<br />
+And though you say my attitude<br />
+Is questioning, concede my mood<br />
+Does never bring to tongue or pen<br />
+Accents of gloomy modern men<br />
+Who wail or hail the death of God<br />
+And weigh and measure man the clod,<br />
+Or say they draw reluctant breath<br />
+And musically mourn that Death<br />
+Is a queen omnipotent of woe<br />
+And Life her lean cicisbeo,<br />
+Abject and pale, whom vampire-like<br />
+She playeth with ere she shall strike,<br />
+And pose sad riddles to the Sphinx<br />
+With raven quills in purple inks,...<br />
+Then send the boy to fetch more drinks.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<b><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Than farthest stars more distant,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A mile more,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A mile more,</span><br />
+A voice cries on insistent:<br />
+"You may smile more if you will;<br />
+<br />
+"You may sing too and spring too;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But numb at last</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And dumb at last,</span><br />
+Whatever port you cling to,<br />
+You must come at last to a hill.<br />
+<br />
+"And never a man you'll find there<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To take your hand</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And shake your hand;</span><br />
+But when you go behind there<br />
+You must make your hand a sword<br />
+<br />
+"To fence with a foeman swarthy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And swink there</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor shrink there,</span><br />
+Though cowardly and worthy<br />
+Must drink there one reward."<br />
+</p>
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<h5>TWELVE TRANSLATIONS</h5>
+<h5>FROM</h5>
+<h5>CHARLES BAUDELAIRE</h5>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p class="poem">
+<a name="TOUT_ENTIERE" id="TOUT_ENTIERE"></a><b>TOUT ENTIÈRE</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+This morning in my attic high<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Demon came to visit me,</span><br />
+And seeking faults in my reply,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He said: "I would inquire of thee,</span><br />
+<br />
+"Of all the beauties which compose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her charming body's potent spell,</span><br />
+Of all the objects black and rose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which make the thing you love so well,</span><br />
+<br />
+"Which is the sweetest?" O my soul!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou didst rejoin: "How tell of parts,</span><br />
+When all I know is that the whole<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Works magic in my heart of hearts?</span><br />
+<br />
+"Where all is fair, how should I say<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What single grace is my delight?</span><br />
+She shines on me like break of day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she consoles me as the night.</span><br />
+<br />
+"There flows through all her perfect frame<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A harmony too exquisite</span><br />
+That weak analysis should name<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The numberless accords of it.</span><br />
+<br />
+"O mystic metamorphosis!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My separate senses all are blent;</span><br />
+Within her breath soft music is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in her voice a subtle scent!"</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_ALCHEMY_OF_GRIEF" id="THE_ALCHEMY_OF_GRIEF"></a><b>THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+One, Nature! burns and makes thee bright,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One gives thee weeds to mourn withal;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what to one is burial</span><br />
+Is to the other life and light.<br />
+<br />
+The unknown Hermes who assists<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And alway fills my heart with fear</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes me the mighty Midas' peer</span><br />
+The saddest of the alchemists.<br />
+<br />
+Through him I make gold changeable<br />
+To dross, and paradise to hell;<br />
+Clouds for its corpse-cloths I descry.<br />
+<br />
+A stark dead body I love well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in the gleaming fields on high</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I build immense sarcophagi.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="SPLEEN" id="SPLEEN"></a><b>SPLEEN</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+When the low heavy sky weighs like a lid<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the spirit aching for the light</span><br />
+And all the wide horizon's line is hid<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By a black day sadder than any night;</span><br />
+<br />
+When the changed earth is but a dungeon dank<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where batlike Hope goes blindly fluttering</span><br />
+And, striking wall and roof and mouldered plank,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bruises his tender head and timid wing;</span><br />
+<br />
+When like grim prison-bars stretch down the thin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Straight, rigid pillars of the endless rain,</span><br />
+And the dumb throngs of infamous spiders spin<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their meshes in the caverns of the brain;&mdash;</span><br />
+<br />
+Suddenly, bells leap forth into the air,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hurling a hideous uproar to the sky</span><br />
+As 'twere a band of homeless spirits who fare<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the strange heavens, wailing stubbornly.</span><br />
+<br />
+And hearses, without drum or instrument,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">File slowly through my soul; crushed, sorrowful,</span><br />
+Weeps Hope, and Grief, fierce and omnipotent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Plants his black banner on my drooping skull.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="A_VOYAGE_TO_CYTHERA" id="A_VOYAGE_TO_CYTHERA"></a><b>A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+My heart was like a bird and took to flight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Around the rigging circling joyously;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The ship rolled on beneath a cloudless sky</span><br />
+Like a great angel drunken with the light.<br />
+<br />
+"What is yon isle, sad and funereal?"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Cythera famed in deathless song," said they,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The gay old bachelors' Eldorado-Nay,</span><br />
+Look! 'tis a poor bare country after all!"<br />
+<br />
+Isle of sweet secrets and heart banquetings!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The queenly shade of antique Venus thrills</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Scentlike above thy level seas and fills</span><br />
+Our souls with languor and all amorous things.<br />
+<br />
+Fair isle and of green myrtles and blown flowers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Held holy by all men for evermore,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the faint sighs of spirits that adore</span><br />
+Float like rose-incense through the quiet hours,<br />
+<br />
+And dovelike sounds each murmured orison:&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cythera lay there barren 'neath bright skies,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A rocky waste rent by discordant cries:</span><br />
+Natheless I saw a curious thing thereon.<br />
+<br />
+No shady temple was it, close enshrined<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I' the trees; no flower-crowned priestess hither came</span><br />
+With her young body burnt by secret flame,<br />
+Baring her breast to the caressing wind;<br />
+<br />
+But when so close to the land's edge we drew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our canvas scared the sea-fowl&mdash;gradually</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We knew it for a three-branched gallows tree</span><br />
+Like a black cypress stark against the blue.<br />
+<br />
+A rotten carcase hung, whereon did sit<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A swarm of foul black birds; with writhe and shriek</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each sought to pierce and plunge his knife-like beak</span><br />
+Deep in the bleeding trunk and limbs of it.<br />
+<br />
+The eyes were holes; the belly opened wide<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Streaming its heavy entrails on the thighs;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The grim birds, gorged with dreadful delicacies,</span><br />
+Had dug and furrowed it on every side.<br />
+<br />
+Beneath the blackened feet there strove and pressed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A herd of jealous beasts with upward snout,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in the midst of these there turned about</span><br />
+One, the chief hangman, larger than the rest....<br />
+<br />
+Lone Cytherean! now all silently<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou sufferest these insults to atone</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For those old infamous sins that thou hast known,</span><br />
+The sins that locked the gate o' the grave to thee.<br />
+<br />
+Mine are thy sorrows, ludicrous corse; yea, all<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are mine! I stood thy swaying limbs beneath,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, like a bitter vomit, to my teeth</span><br />
+There rose old shadows in a stream of gall.<br />
+<br />
+O thou unhappy devil, I felt afresh,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gazing at thee, the beaks and jaws of those</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Black savage panthers and those ruthless crows,</span><br />
+Who loved of old to macerate my flesh.<br />
+<br />
+The sea was calm, the sky without a cloud;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Henceforth for me all things that came to pass</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were blood and darkness,&mdash;round my heart, alas!</span><br />
+There clung that allegory, like a shroud.<br />
+<br />
+Naught save mine image on a gibbet thrust<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Found I on Venus island desolate....</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah, God! the courage and strength to contemplate</span><br />
+My body and my heart without disgust.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_CRACKED_BELL" id="THE_CRACKED_BELL"></a><b>THE CRACKED BELL</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+'Tis bitter-sweet, when winter nights are long,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To watch, beside the flames which smoke and twist,</span><br />
+The distant memories which slowly throng,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brought by the chime soft-singing through the mist.</span><br />
+<br />
+Happy the sturdy, vigorous-throated bell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who, spite of age alert and confident,</span><br />
+Cries hourly, like some strong old sentinel<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flinging the ready challenge from his tent.</span><br />
+<br />
+For me, my soul is cracked; when sick with care,<br />
+She strives with songs to people the cold air<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It happens often that her feeble cries</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mock the harsh rattle of a man who lies</span><br />
+Wounded, forgotten, 'neath a mound of slain<br />
+And dies, pinned fast, writhing his limbs in pain.<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_OFFENDED_MOON" id="THE_OFFENDED_MOON"></a><b>THE OFFENDED MOON</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+O moon, O lamp of hill and secret dale!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou whom our fathers, ages out of mind,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Worshipped in thy blue heaven, whilst behind</span><br />
+Thy stars streamed after thee a glittering trail,<br />
+<br />
+Dost see the poet, weary-eyed and pale,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or lovers on their happy beds reclined,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Showing white teeth in sleep, or vipers twined,</span><br />
+'Neath the dry sward; or in a golden veil<br />
+<br />
+Stealest thou with faint footfall o'er the grass<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As of old, to kiss from twilight unto dawn</span><br />
+The faded charms of thine Endymion?...<br />
+<br />
+"O child of this sick century, I see<br />
+Thy grey-haired mother leering in her glass<br />
+And plastering the breast that suckled thee!"<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="TO_THEODORE_DE_BANVILLE" id="TO_THEODORE_DE_BANVILLE"></a><b>TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE,</b><br />
+<br />
+<span class="caption">1842</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+So proud your port, your arm so powerful,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With such a grip you grip the goddess' hair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That one might take you, from your casual air,</span><br />
+For a young ruffian flinging down his trull.<br />
+<br />
+Your clear eye flashing with precocity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You have displayed yourself proud architect</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of fabrics so audaciously correct</span><br />
+That we may guess what your ripe prime will be.<br />
+<br />
+Poet, our blood ebbs out through every pore;<br />
+Is it, perchance, the robe the Centaur bore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which made a sullen streamlet of each vein,</span><br />
+<br />
+Was three times dipped within the venom fell<br />
+Of those old reptiles fierce and terrible<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom, in his cradle, Hercules had slain?</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="MUSIC" id="MUSIC"></a><b>MUSIC</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Oft Music, as it were some moving mighty sea,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bears me towards my pale</span><br />
+Star: in clear space, or 'neath a vaporous canopy<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On-floating, I set sail.</span><br />
+<br />
+With heaving chest which strains forward, and lungs outblown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I climb the ridgèd steeps</span><br />
+Of those high-pilèd clouds which 'thwart the night are thrown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Veiling its starry deeps.</span><br />
+<br />
+I suffer all the throes, within my quivering form,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of a great ship in pain,</span><br />
+Now a soft wind, and now the writhings of a storm<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the vasty main</span><br />
+Rock me: at other times a death-like calm, the bare<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mirror of my despair.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_CATS" id="THE_CATS"></a><b>THE CATS</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+The lover and the stern philosopher<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both love, in their ripe time, the confident</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soft cats, the house's chiefest ornament,</span><br />
+Who like themselves are cold and seldom stir.<br />
+<br />
+Of knowledge and of pleasure amorous,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Silence they seek and Darkness' fell domain;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had not their proud souls scorned to brook his rein,</span><br />
+They would have made grim steeds for Erebus.<br />
+<br />
+Pensive they rest in noble attitudes<br />
+Like great stretched sphinxes in vast solitudes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which seem to sleep wrapt in an endless dream;</span><br />
+<br />
+Their fruitful loins are full of sparks divine,<br />
+And gleams of gold within their pupils shine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As 'twere within the shadow of a stream.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_SADNESS_OF_THE_MOON" id="THE_SADNESS_OF_THE_MOON"></a><b>THE SADNESS OF THE MOON</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+This evening the Moon dreams more languidly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a beauty who on mounded cushions rests,</span><br />
+And with her light hand fondles lingeringly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before she sleeps, the slope of her sweet breasts.</span><br />
+<br />
+On her soft satined avalanches' height<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dying, she laps herself for hours and hours</span><br />
+In long, long swoons, and gazes at the white<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Visions which rise athwart the blue like flowers.</span><br />
+<br />
+When sometimes in her perfect indolence<br />
+She lets a furtive tear steal gently thence,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some pious poet, a lone, sleepless one,</span><br />
+<br />
+Takes in his hollowed hand this gem, shot through,<br />
+Like an opal stone, with gleams of every hue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in his heart's depths hides it from the sun.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="MOESTA_ET_ERRABUNDA" id="MOESTA_ET_ERRABUNDA"></a><b>MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA</b><br />
+<br />
+Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Plunged in this squalid city's filthy sea,</span><br />
+For another ocean where the splendours break<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blue, clear, and deep as is virginity.</span><br />
+Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache?<br />
+<br />
+The sea, the sea unending, comforts us!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What demon gave the hoarse old sea who sings</span><br />
+To her mumbling hurricanes' organ thunderous<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The god-like power to cradle sorrowful things?</span><br />
+The sea, the sea unending, comforts us.<br />
+<br />
+Carry me, wagon, bear me, barque, away!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far! Far! For here the mud is made of tears!</span><br />
+Does Agatha's sad heart not sometimes say:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"O far from shudderings and crimes and fears,</span><br />
+Carry me, wagon; bear me barque, away?"<br />
+<br />
+How far thou art, O scented paradise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O paradise where all is love and joy,</span><br />
+Where all is worthy love 'neath the azure skies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the heart drowns in bliss without alloy!</span><br />
+How far thou art, O scented paradise!<br />
+<br />
+But the green paradise of childish loves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The games, the songs, the kisses and the flowers,</span><br />
+The laughing draughts of wine in hidden groves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The violins throbbing through the twilight hours,</span><br />
+&mdash;But the green paradise of childish loves,<br />
+<br />
+The artless paradise of stealthy joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that already leagues beyond Cathay?</span><br />
+And can one, with a little plaintive noise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bring it again that is so far away&mdash;</span><br />
+The artless paradise of stealthy joys?<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_OWLS" id="THE_OWLS"></a><b>THE OWLS</b><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+'Neath their black yews in solemn state<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The owls are sitting in a row</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like foreign gods; and even so</span><br />
+Blink their red eyes; they meditate.<br />
+<br />
+Quite motionless they hold them thus<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until at last the day is done,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And driving down the slanting sun,</span><br />
+The sad night is victorious.<br />
+<br />
+They teach the wise who gives them ear<br />
+That in this world he most should fear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All things which loud or restless be.</span><br />
+<br />
+Who, dazzled by a passing shade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Follows it, never will be free</span><br />
+Till the dread penalty be paid.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="caption">FINIS</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+John Collings Squire and Charles Baudelaire
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+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Three Hills, by
+John Collings Squire and Charles Baudelaire
+
+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 Three Hills
+       And other Poems
+
+Author: John Collings Squire
+        Charles Baudelaire
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2011 [EBook #36620]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THREE HILLS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marc D'Hooghe & Andrea Ballat http://www.freeliterature.org
+
+
+
+
+THE THREE HILLS
+
+AND OTHER POEMS
+
+BY
+
+J.C. SQUIRE
+
+
+LONDON: HOWARD LATIMER LTD.
+
+GREAT QUEEN STREET, KINGSWAY
+
+MCMXIII
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+FRANCIS BURROWS
+
+
+
+    CONTENTS
+
+    ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION
+    THE THREE HILLS
+    A CHANT
+    ARTEMIS ALTERA
+    STARLIGHT
+    FLORIAN 'S SONG
+    DIALOGUE
+    CREPUSCULAR
+    AT NIGHT
+    FOR MUSIC
+    THE ROOF
+    TREETOPS
+    IN THE PARK
+    SONG
+    TOWN
+    A MEMORIAL
+    FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND--I
+                        --II
+                        --III
+    LINES ON THE EARTHLY PARADISE
+    ECHOES
+    THE FUGITIVE
+    IN THE ORCHARD
+    IN A CHAIR
+    A DAY
+    THE MIND OF MAN
+    A REASONABLE PROTESTATION
+    EPILOGUE
+
+    TWELVE TRANSLATIONS FROM C. BAUDELAIRE
+
+    TOUT ENTIERE
+    THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF
+    SPLEEN
+    A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA
+    THE CRACKED BELL
+    THE OFFENDED MOON
+    TO THEODORE BANVILLE, 1842
+    MUSIC
+    THE CATS
+    THE SADNESS OF THE MOON
+    MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA
+    THE OWLS
+
+Many of the above poems have appeared in the "British Review," the
+"Eye-Witness," the "New Witness," the "Oxford and Cambridge Review," the
+"New Statesman," and the "New Age," to the Editors of which thanks are
+due for permission to reprint. Three of the short poems and most of the
+translations are extracted from an earlier volume.
+
+
+
+
+     ANTINOMIES ON A RAILWAY STATION
+
+
+     As I stand waiting in the rain
+     For the foggy hoot of the London train,
+     Gazing at silent wall and lamp
+     And post and rail and platform damp,
+     What is this power that comes to my sight
+     That I see a night without the night,
+     That I see them clear, yet look them through,
+     The silvery things and the darkly blue,
+     That the solid wall seems soft as death,
+     A wavering and unanchored wraith,
+     And rails that shine and stones that stream
+     Unsubstantial as a dream?
+     What sudden door has opened so,
+     What hand has passed, that I should know
+     This moving vision not of trance
+     That melts the globe of circumstance,
+     This sight that marks not least or most
+     And makes a stone a passing ghost?
+
+     Is it that a year ago
+     I stood upon this self-same spot;
+     Is it that since a year ago
+     The place and I have altered not;
+     Is it that I half forgot,
+     A year ago, and all despised
+     For a space the things that I had prized:
+     The race of life, the glittering show?
+     Is it that now a year has passed
+     Of vain pursuit of glittering things,
+     Of fruitless searching, shouting, running,
+     And greedy lies and candour cunning,
+     Here as I stand the year above
+     Sudden the heats and the strivings fail
+     And fall away, a fluctuant veil,
+     And the fixed familiar stones restore
+     The old appearance-buried core,
+     The moveless and essential me,
+     The eternal personality
+     Alone enduring first and last?
+
+     No, this I have known in other ways,
+     In other places, other days.
+     Not only here, on this one peak,
+     Do fixity and beauty speak
+     Of the delusiveness of change,
+     Of the transparency of form,
+     The bootless stress of minds that range,
+     The awful calm behind the storm.
+     In many places, many days,
+     The invaded soul receives the rays
+     Of countries she was nurtured in,
+     Speaks in her silent language strange
+     To that beyond which is her kin.
+     Even in peopled streets at times
+     A metaphysic arm is thrust
+     Through the partitioning fabric thin,
+     And tears away the darkening pall
+     Cast by the bright phenomenal,
+     And clears the obscured spirit's mirror
+     From shadows of deceptive error,
+     And shows the bells and all their ringing,
+     And all the crowds and all their singing,
+     Carillons that are nothing's chimes
+     And dust that is not even dust....
+     But rarely hold I converse thus
+     Where shapes are bright and clamorous,
+     More often comes the word divine
+     In places motionless and far;
+     Beneath the white peculiar shine
+     Of sunless summer afternoons;
+     At eventide on pale lagoons
+     Where hangs reflected one pale star;
+     Or deep in the green solitudes
+     Of still erect entranced woods.
+
+     O, in the woods alone lying,
+     Scarce a bough in the wind sighing,
+     Gaze I long with fervid power
+     At leaf and branch and grass and flower,
+     Breathe I breaths of trembling sight
+     Shed from great urns of green delight,
+     Take I draughts and drink them up
+     Poured from many a stalk and cup.
+     Now do I burn for nothing more
+     Than thus to gaze, thus to adore
+     This exquisiteness of nature ever
+     In silence....
+
+                    But with instant light
+     Rends the film; with joy I quiver
+     To see with new celestial sight
+     Flower and leaf and grass and tree,
+     Doomed barks on an eternal sea,
+     Flit phantom-like as transient smoke.
+     Beauty herself her spell has broke,
+     Beauty, the herald and the lure,
+     Her message told, may not endure;
+     Her portal opened, she has died,
+     Supreme immortal suicide.
+     Yes, sleepless nature soundless flings
+     Invisible grapples round the soul,
+     Drawing her through the web of things
+     To the primal end of her journeyings,
+     Her ultimate and constant pole.
+
+     For Beauty with her hands that beckon
+       Is but the Prophet of a Higher,
+     A flaming and ephemeral beacon,
+       A Phoenix perishing by fire.
+     Herself from us herself estranges,
+       Herself her mighty tale doth kill,
+     That all things change yet nothing changes,
+       That all things move yet all are still.
+
+     I cannot sink, I cannot climb,
+       Now that I see my ancient dwelling,
+     The central orb untouched of time,
+       And taste a peace all bliss excelling.
+     Now I have broken Beauty's wall,
+       Now that my kindred world I hold,
+     I care not though the cities fall
+       And the green earth go cold.
+
+
+
+
+     THE THREE HILLS
+
+
+     There were three hills that stood alone
+       With woods about their feet.
+     They dreamed quiet when the sun shone
+       And whispered when the rain beat.
+
+     They wore all three their coronals
+       Till men with houses came
+     And scored their heads with pits and walls
+       And thought the hills were tame.
+
+     Red and white when day shines bright
+       They hide the green for miles,
+     Where are the old hills gone? At night
+       The moon looks down and smiles.
+
+     She sees the captors small and weak,
+       She knows the prisoners strong,
+     She hears the patient hills that speak:
+       "Brothers, it is not long;
+
+     "Brothers, we stood when they were not
+       Ten thousand summers past.
+     Brothers, when they are clean forgot
+       We shall outlive the last;
+
+     "One shall die and one shall flee
+       With terror in his train,
+     And earth shall eat the stones, and we
+       Shall be alone again."
+
+
+
+
+     A CHANT
+
+
+     Gently the petals fall as the tree gently sways
+       That has known many springs and many petals fall
+     Year after year to strew the green deserted ways
+       And the statue and the pond and the low, broken wall.
+
+     Faded is the memory of old things done,
+       Peace floats on the ruins of ancient festival;
+     They lie and forget in the warmth of the sun,
+       And a sky silver-blue arches over all.
+
+     O softly, O tenderly, the heart now stirs
+       With desires faint and formless; and, seeking not, I find
+     Quiet thoughts that flash like azure king-fishers
+       Across the luminous tranquil mirror of the mind.
+
+
+
+
+     ARTEMIS ALTERA
+
+
+     O full of candour and compassion,
+       Whom love and worship both would praise,
+     Love cannot frame nor worship fashion
+       The image of your fearless ways!
+
+     How show your noble brow's dark pallor,
+       Your chivalrous casque of ebon hair,
+     Your eyes' bright strength, your lips' soft valour,
+       Your supple shoulders and hands that dare?
+
+     Our souls when naively you examine,
+       Your sword of innocence, flaming, huge,
+     Sweeps over us, and there is famine
+       Within the ports of subterfuge.
+
+     You hate contempt and love not laughter;
+       With your sharp spear of virgin will
+     You harry the wicked strong; but after,
+       O huntress who could never kill,
+
+     Should they be trodden down or pierced,
+       Swift, swift, you fly with burning cheek
+     To place your beauty's shield reversed
+       Above the vile defenceless weak!
+
+
+
+
+     STARLIGHT
+
+
+     Last night I lay in an open field
+     And looked at the stars with lips sealed;
+     No noise moved the windless air,
+     And I looked at the stars with steady stare.
+
+     There were some that glittered and some that shone
+     With a soft and equal glow, and one
+     That queened it over the sprinkled round,
+     Swaying the host with silent sound.
+
+     "Calm things," I thought, "in your cavern blue,
+     I will learn and hold and master you;
+     I will yoke and scorn you as I can,
+     For the pride of my heart is the pride of a man."
+
+     Grass to my cheek in the dewy field
+     I lay quite still with lips sealed,
+     And the pride of a man and his rigid gaze
+     Stalked like swords on heaven's ways.
+
+     But through a sudden gate there stole
+     The Universe and spread in my soul;
+     Quick went my breath and quick my heart,
+     And I looked at the stars with lips apart.
+
+
+
+
+     FLORIAN'S SONG
+
+
+     My soul, it shall not take us,
+       O we will escape
+     This world that strives to break us
+       And cast us to its shape;
+     Its chisel shall not enter,
+       Its fire shall not touch,
+     Hard from rim to centre,
+       We will not crack or smutch.
+
+     'Gainst words sweet and flowered
+       We have an amulet,
+     We will not play the coward
+       For any black threat;
+     If we but give endurance
+       To what is now within--
+     The single assurance
+      That it is good to win.
+
+     Slaves think it better
+       To be weak than strong,
+     Whose hate is a fetter
+       And their love a thong.
+     But we will view those others
+       With eyes like stone,
+     And if we have no brothers
+       We will walk alone.
+
+
+
+
+     DIALOGUE
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     The dead man's gone, the live man's
+       sad, the dying leaf shakes on the tree,
+     The wind constrains the window panes and
+         moans like moaning of the sea,
+       And sour's the taste now culled in haste of
+         lovely things I won too late,
+     And loud and loud above the crowd the
+         Voice of One more strong than we.
+
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     This Voice you hear, this call you fear, is
+         it unprophesied or new?
+     Were you so insolent to think its rope would
+         never circle you?
+       Did you then beastlike live and walk with
+         ears and eyes that would not turn?
+     Who bade you hope your service 'scape in
+         that eternal retinue?
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     No; for I swear now bare's the tree and loud
+         the moaning of the wind,
+     I walked no rut with eyelids shut, my ears
+         and eyes were never blind,
+       Only my eager thoughts I bent on many
+         things that I desired
+     To make my greedy heart content ere flesh
+         and blood I left behind.
+
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     Ignorance, then, was all your fault and
+         filmed eyes that could not know,
+     That half discerned and never learned the
+         temporal way that men must go;
+       You set the image of the world high for
+         your heart's idolatry,
+     Though with your lips you called the world
+         a toy, a ghost, a passing show.
+
+
+     THE ONE
+
+     No, no; this is not true; my lips spoke
+         only what my heart believed.
+     Called I the world a toy; I spoke not echo-like
+           or self-deceived.
+       But that I thought the toy was mine to play
+           with, and the passing show
+     Would sate at least my passing lusts, and did
+           not, therefore am I grieved.
+
+     What did I do that I must bear this lifelong
+           tyranny of my fate,
+     That I must writhe in bonds unsought of
+           accidental love and hate?
+       Had chance but joined different dice, but
+           once or twice, but once or twice,
+     All lovely things that I desired I should have
+           held before too late.
+
+     Surely I knew that flesh was grass nor valued
+           overmuch the prize,
+     But all the powers of chance conspired to
+           cheat a man both just and wise.
+       Happy I'd been had I but had my due
+           reward, and not a sword
+     Flaming in diabolic hand between me and
+           my Paradise.
+
+     THE OTHER
+
+     No hooded band of fates did stand your
+           heart's ambitions to gainsay,
+     No flaming brand in evil hand was ever
+           thrust across your way,
+       Only the things all men must meet, the
+           common attributes of men,
+     That men may flinch to see or, seeing, deny,
+           but avoid them no man may.
+
+     Fall the dice, not once or twice but always, to
+           make the self-same sum;
+     Chance what may, a life's a life and to a
+           single goal must come;
+       Though a man search far and wide, never
+           is hunger satisfied;
+     Nature brings her natural fetters, man is
+           meshed and the wise are dumb.
+
+     O vain all art to assuage a heart with accents
+           of a mortal tongue,
+     All earthly words are incomplete and only
+           sweet are the songs unsung,
+       Never yet was cause for regret, yet regret
+           must afflict us all,
+     Better it were to grasp the world 'thwart
+           which this world is a curtain flung.
+
+
+
+
+     CREPUSCULAR
+
+
+     No creature stirs in the wide fields.
+       The rifted western heaven yields
+     The dying sun's illumination.
+     This is the hour of tribulation
+     When, with clear sight of eve engendered,
+     Day's homage to delusion rendered,
+       Mute at her window sits the soul.
+
+     Clouds and skies and lakes and seas,
+     Valleys and hills and grass and trees,
+     Sun, moon, and stars, all stand to her
+     Limbs of one lordless challenger,
+     Who, without deigning taunt or frown,
+     Throws a perennial gauntlet down:
+       "Come conquer me and take thy toll."
+
+     No cowardice or fear she knows,
+     But, as once more she girds, there grows
+     An unresigned hopelessness
+     From memory of former stress.
+     Head bent, she muses whilst he waits:
+     How with such weapons dint his plates?
+     How quell this vast and sleepless giant
+     Calmly, immortally defiant,
+
+     How fell him, bind him, and control
+     With a silver cord and a golden bowl?
+
+
+
+
+     AT NIGHT
+
+
+     Dark firtops foot the moony sky,
+       Blue moonlight bars the drive;
+     Here at the open window I
+       Sit smoking and alive.
+
+     Wind in the branches swells and breaks
+       Like ocean on a beach;
+     Deep in the sky and my heart there wakes
+       A thought I cannot reach.
+
+
+
+
+     FOR MUSIC
+
+
+     Death in the cold grey morning
+       Came to the man where he lay;
+     And the wind shivered, and the tree shuddered
+       And the dawn was grey.
+
+     And the face of the man was grey in the dawn,
+       And the watchers by the bed
+     Knew, as they heard the shaking of the leaves,
+       That the man was dead.
+
+
+
+
+     THE ROOF
+
+
+     I
+
+     When the clouds hide the sun away
+       The tall slate roof is dull and grey,
+     And when the rain adown it streams
+     'Tis polished lead with pale-blue gleams.
+
+     When the clouds vanish and the rain
+     Stops, and the sun comes out again,
+     It shimmers golden in the sun
+     Almost too bright to look upon.
+
+     But soon beneath the steady rays
+     The roof is dried and reft of blaze,
+     'Tis dusty yellow traversed through
+     By long thin lines of deepest blue.
+
+     Then at the last, as night draws near,
+     The lines grow faint and disappear,
+     The roof becomes a purple mist
+     A great square darkening amethyst
+
+     Which sinks into the gathering shade
+     Till separate form and colour fade,
+     And it is but a patch which mars
+     The beauty of a field of stars.
+
+
+     II
+
+     It stands so lonely in the sky
+     The sparrows never come anigh,
+     The glossy starlings seldom stop
+     To preen and chatter on the top.
+
+     For a whole week sometimes up there
+     No wing-wave stirs the quiet air,
+     The roof lies silent and serene
+     As though no life had ever been;
+
+     Till some bright afternoon, athwart
+     The edge two sudden shadows dart,
+     And two white pigeons with pink feet
+     Flutter above and pitch on it.
+
+     Jerking their necks out as they walk
+     They talk awhile their pigeon-talk,
+     A low continuous murmur blent
+     Of mock reproaches and content.
+
+     Then cease, and sit there warm and white
+     An hour, till in the fading light
+     They wake, and know the close of day,
+     Flutter above, and fly away,
+
+     Leaving the roof whereon they sat
+     As 'twas before, a peaceful flat
+     Expanse, as silent and serene
+     As though no life had ever been.
+
+
+
+
+     TREETOPS
+
+
+     There beyond my window ledge,
+     Heaped against the sky a hedge
+     Of huge and wavering treetops stands
+     With multitudes of fluttering hands.
+
+     Wave they, beat they to and fro,
+     Never stillness may they know,
+     Plunged by the wind and hurled and torn
+     Anguished, purposeless, forlorn.
+
+     "O ferocious, O despairing,
+     In huddled isolation faring
+     Through a scattered universe,
+     Lost coins from the Almighty's purse!"
+
+     "No, below you do not see
+     The firm foundations of the tree;
+     Anchored to a rock beneath
+     We laugh in the hammering tempest's teeth."
+
+     "Boughs like men but burgeons are
+     On an adamantine star;
+     Men are myriad blossoms on
+     A staunch and cosmic skeleton."
+
+
+
+
+     IN THE PARK
+
+
+     This dense hard ground I tread
+     These iron bars that ripple past,
+     Will they unshaken stand when I am dead
+     And my deep thoughts outlast?
+
+     Is it my spirit slips,
+     Falls, like this leaf I kick aside;
+     This firmness that I feel about my lips,
+     Is it but empty pride?
+
+     Mute knowledge conquers me;
+     I contemplate them as they are,
+     Faint earth and shadowy bars that shake and flee,
+     Less hard, more transient far
+
+     Than those unbodied hues
+     The sunset flings on the calm river;
+     And, as I look, a swiftness thrills my shoes
+     And my hands with empire quiver.
+
+     Now light the ground I tread,
+     I walk not now but rather float;
+     Clear but unreal is the scene outspread,
+     Pitiful, thin, remote.
+
+     Poor vapour is the grass,
+     So frail the trees and railings seem,
+     That, did I sweep my hand around, 'twould pass
+     Through them, as in a dream.
+
+     Godlike I fear no changes;
+     Shatter the world with thunders loud,
+     Still would I ray-like flit about the ranges
+     Of dark and ruddy cloud.
+
+
+
+
+     SONG
+
+
+     There is a wood where the fairies dance
+     All night long in a ring of mushrooms daintily,
+     By each tree bole sits a squirrel or a mole,
+     And the moon through the branches darts.
+
+     Light on the grass their slim limbs glance,
+     Their shadows in the moonlight swing in quiet unison,
+     And the moon discovers that they all have lovers,
+     But they never break their hearts.
+
+     They never grieve at all for sands that run,
+     They never know regret for a deed that's done,
+     And they never think of going to a shed with a gun
+     At the rising of the sun.
+
+
+
+
+     TOWN
+
+
+     Mostly in a dull rotation
+       We bear our loads and eat and drink and sleep,
+     Feeling no tears, knowing no meditation--
+     Too tired to think, too clogged with earth to weep.
+
+     Dimly convinced, poor groping wretches,
+       Like eyeless insects in a murky pond
+     That out and out this city stretches,
+       Away, away, and there is no beyond.
+
+     No larger earth, no loftier heaven,
+       No cleaner, gentler airs to breathe. And yet,
+     Even to us sometimes is given
+       Visions of things we otherwhiles forget.
+
+     Some day is done, its labour ended,
+       And as we brood at windows high,
+     A steady wind from far descended,
+       Blows off the filth that hid the deeper sky;
+
+     There are the empty waiting spaces,
+       We watch, we watch, unwinking, pale and dumb,
+     Till gliding up with noiseless paces
+       Night sweeps o'er all the wide arch: Night has come.
+
+     Not that sick false night of the city,
+       Lurid and low and yellow and obscene,
+     But mother Night, pure, full of pity,
+       The star-strewn Night, blue, potent and serene.
+
+     O, as we gaze the clamour ceases,
+       The turbid world around grows dim and small,
+     The soft-shed influence releases
+       Our shrouded spirits from their dusty pall.
+
+     No more we hear the turbulent traffic,
+       Not scorned but unremembered is the day;
+     The Night, all luminous and seraphic,
+       Has brushed its heavy memories away.
+
+     The great blue Night so clear and kindly,
+       The little stars so wide-eyed and so still,
+     Open a door for souls that blindly
+       Had wandered, tunnelling the endless hill;
+
+     They draw the long-untraversed portal,
+       Our souls slip out and tremble and expand,
+     The immortal feels for the immortal,
+       The eternal holds the eternal by the hand.
+
+     Impalpably we are led and lifted,
+       Softly we shake into the gulf of blue,
+     The last environing veil is rifted
+       And lost horizons float into our view.
+
+     Lost lands, lone seas, lands that afar gleam
+       With a miraculous beauty, faint yet clear,
+     Forgotten lands of night and star-gleam,
+       Seas that are somewhere but that are not here.
+
+     Borne without effort or endeavour,
+       Swifter and more ethereal than the wind,
+     In level track we stream, whilst ever
+       The fair pale panorama rolls behind.
+
+     Now fleets below a tranced moorland,
+       A sweep of glimmering immobility;
+     Now craggy cliff and dented foreland
+       Pass back and there beyond unfolds the sea.
+
+     Now wastes of water heaving, drawing,
+       Great darkling tracts of patterned restlessness,
+     With whitened waves round rough rocks mawing
+       And licking islands in their fierce caress.
+
+     Now coasts with capes and ribboned beaches
+       Set silent 'neath the canopy sapphirine,
+     And estuaries and river reaches
+       Phantasmal silver in the night's soft shine.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Ah, these fair woods the spirit crosses,
+       These quiet lakes, these stretched dreaming fields,
+     These undulate downs with piny bosses
+       Pointing the ridges of their sloping shields.
+
+     These valleys and these heights that screen them,
+       These tawnier sands where grass and tree are not,
+     Ah, we have known them, we have seen them
+       Long, long ago or ever we forgot;
+
+     We know them all, these placid countries,
+       And what the pathway is and what the goal;
+     These are the gates and these the sentries
+       That guard the ancient fortress of the soul.
+
+     And onward speed we flying, flying,
+       Over the sundering worlds of hill and plain
+     To where they rear their heads undying
+       The unnamed mountains of old days again.
+
+     The snows upon their calm still summits,
+       The chasms, the lines of trees that foot the snow,
+     Curving like inky frozen comets,
+       Into the forest-ocean spread below.
+
+     The glisten where the peaks are hoarest,
+       The soundless darkness of the sunken vales,
+     The folding leagues of shadowy forest,
+       Wave beyond wave till all distinctness fails.
+
+     So invulnerable it is, so deathless,
+       So floods the air the loveliness of it,
+     That we stay dazzled, rapt and breathless,
+       Our beings ebbing to the infinite.
+
+     There as we pause, there as we hover,
+       Moveless in ecstasy, a sudden light
+     Breaks in our eyes, and we discover
+       We sit at windows gazing to the night.
+
+     Wistful and tired, with eyes a-tingle
+       Where still the sting of Beauty faintly smarts,
+     But with our mute regrets there mingle
+       Thanks for the resurrection of our hearts.
+
+     O night so great that will not mock us!
+       O stars so wise that understand the weak!
+     O vast consoling hands that rock us!
+       O strong and perfect tongues that speak!
+
+     O night enrobed in azure splendour!
+       O whispering stars whose radiance falls like dew!
+     O mighty presences and tender,
+       You have given us back the dreams our childhood knew!
+
+     Lulled by your visions without number,
+       We seek our beds content and void of pain,
+     And dreaming drowse and dreaming slumber
+       And dreaming wake to see the day again.
+
+
+
+
+     A MEMORIAL
+
+     (F.T.)
+
+
+     The cord broke, and the tent
+     Slipped, and the silken roof
+     Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof
+     Of the deliberate firmament.
+     Yet cared we not; how should we care?
+     Knowing that labourless now he breathes
+     A golden paradisal air
+     Where with more certain craft he wreathes
+     Bright braids of words more wise and fair
+     Than ever his earthly fabrics were,
+     That his unwavering eyes made fresh,
+     Purged and regarbed in fadeless flesh,
+     What he then darkly guessed behold,
+     And watch with an abiding joy
+         The eternal mysteries unfold
+     Which do his now transfigured songs evermore employ.
+
+         Brother, yet great thy power;
+         Thou stood'st as on a tower
+     Small 'neath the stars yet high above the fields;
+         In thy alembic song
+         Imagination strong
+     Distilled what essences the quest to mortals yields.
+         This thy reward well-won,
+         For every morning's sun
+     Found thy heart's firm allegiance still unshaken;
+         No temporal ache or smart
+         Drave Beauty from thy heart,
+     And by thy mighty mistress never wast forsaken.
+
+         Yes; for though stringent was the test,
+         When that thy trial was bitterest,
+     Steadfast thou did'st remain; unshod
+     The harrows of Pain thy feet once trod,
+     Humiliate as thy sad song tells
+     Before the vault's white sentinels.
+     Friendless and faint thou sojourned'st there,
+     A bowed, brave, timid wanderer,
+     A lonely nomad of the spirit,
+     Who did a triple curse inherit,
+     Hunger, regret and memory.
+     Yet never did they vanquish thee;
+     When nighest broken, most alone,
+     Thy unassuaged thoughts could clamber
+     To beauty on her ageless throne;
+     Thou wert as one in torture chamber
+     Who sees the blue through an open casement
+     And hammers his soul to endure the time
+     Of his corporeal abasement;
+     Nor writhed'st at thine or others' fault,
+         But with grim tenderness did salt
+         Thy cicatrices with a rhyme.
+         Not the most sable flame of gloom
+         Could penetrate thy inmost room;
+         But through the walls thy spirit sucked
+         Into that cloistral hermitage
+         Stray lovely things, moonbeams and snows
+         The far sky shed into thy cage,
+         And, from the very gutter plucked,
+         A lost and mired campestral rose.
+
+     Ended that purgatorial period,
+     Filled was thy wallet and thy feet were shod,
+     The leaden weights were moved, the rack withdrawn,
+     Thou didst traverse the dewy fields of dawn,
+     Watch sunsets blazoning over upland turf,
+     Pull poppies from the frontiers of the surf,
+         Dwelled'st with love and human eyes
+         Vigilant, calm and wise.
+         But still as when thy bark did ride
+         Derelict on the city's tide,
+         As then for penury now for pride
+         Thy bodily senses were denied;
+         Though they cried out and would not sleep,
+         Ascetic thou didst armour them
+     Lest acid pleasure should eat thine art's pure gem.
+         Hourly the tempter's ambuscades
+         But thou didst guard the gates and keep
+         Thy senses' hungry colonnades
+     Accessible but to Beauty's ministers,
+     Unlit by any ruby flame but hers.
+         Immuring so thy spirit eager
+         Within a body frail and meagre,
+     Far from the meads of earthly milk and honey,
+     Yet franchised of more wondrous territories,
+     Like those poor Bedouin of Arabia the Stony
+     Who roam spare-fed and hollow-eyed but free
+     By day to wander and by night to camp
+         In vast serenity,
+         Compassed by God's great silent glories
+     The sun's gold splendour and the moon's white lamp,
+         Folded and safe from harm
+     Beneath the mighty sky's protecting arm.
+
+         Ha! but the Titan's ardour
+         Wherewith thou scour'dst the vast,
+         To spoil the starry larder
+         Of fruits of heavenly taste!
+         Urania's fiercest servant,
+         With thirst as furnace fervent
+         And serene burning brow,
+         Worthy of thy great lineage, thou
+         Drankest without a shudder
+         In proud humility
+         Milk from that vast primaeval udder
+         That swells for such as thee,
+     Milk from the fountains of the Universe
+     That cowards deem infected with a curse,
+         That flushes him who drinks
+           Nor shrinks
+     The exalted anguish of diurnal draughts
+     To a clear vision, more intolerable
+     In its blissful pain, than love's most ardent shafts,
+         Of the seats where she doth dwell,
+         She, whom thou didst confess
+           Enticed
+         Thee hot to her throne to press
+         For the greater glory of Christ
+     To uplift the curtains of her closed eyes.
+
+         Not all was for thy learning
+         Nor any mortal's else;
+         Only for thy discerning
+         Sporadic syllables
+         Of those supernal glances
+     Coffer of which her marble countenance is,
+         Yet vain was not the adventure,
+         Reluctant though the prize,
+         Thou gainedst a debenture
+         On the fringe of Beauty's eyes;
+         Such fragmentary trophy
+         As some cross-tunic'd knight
+         From Saladin or Sophy
+         May have won in sword's despite,
+         Not the dear polar shrines
+         Held captive by the Paynim
+         But still as fruit of wars
+         Some stone from Sion's lines,
+         Some relic that might sain him
+         Of life's uncounted scars.
+
+         Self-dedicated anchorite,
+         Never disdainful of the dust,
+     But conscious of the overcoming night
+     That must engulph the blooms and berries of lust,
+     And unforgetful of the enveloping day beyond;
+     Though a sweet show was spread for thy delight
+     Resolved not to be so fond
+     As, in ephemeral gauds caparisoned,
+     To station feet upon a world of vapour
+     Soft as a dream and fleeting as a taper;
+     Thou thoughtest nevertheless that thou shouldst occupy
+     Thyself, as it seemed to thee, most worthily
+     Until the rapid hour when thou shouldst die;
+         So, in a world of seemings,
+         Of shadows and of dreamings,
+     Busied thyself to fashion and record
+     Unto the greater glory of thy Lord,
+         For thy proud lady Beauty His
+     Most excellent and humble handmaid is.
+     Says one thy service was too ceremonial,
+     Thy vestments irised overmuch, thy ritual
+     Too elaborate and thy rubric too obscure,
+     Therefore thy gift of chant and orison
+     Beneath the perfect service men have done.
+         O but thy notes were pure,
+     And in a day like this we now endure
+     No fault it was in thee to set thy camp
+         Remote, aloof, aloof,
+         In a far fastness proof
+     'Gainst the mephitic odours of the swamp.
+         Which being so, no gain
+         'Twere to explain
+     An exquisiteness too meticulous;
+         Let us but say it pleased thee thus,
+     Dowered with imagination heavy-fruited,
+     To raise a column garlanded and fluted
+         For Him thy heavenly abacus.
+         This was thine offering thou didst make
+         In founded hope that He
+         The craftsman's best would take
+     Well knowing its unobscure sincerity.
+
+         The cord broke and the tent
+         Slipped and the silken roof
+         Lay prone beneath the viewless hoof
+         Of the deliberate firmament.
+         We still in this terrene abode
+         Forlorn must tread the difficult road,
+         And all meek thanks and all belief
+         Hardly suffice to rampart grief.
+     For gone is Beauty's votary apostolic
+     And are her temples now delivered over
+     To blindworms and libidinous goats that frolic
+     In places hallowed by that celestial lover.
+         Save only two or three
+         With undivided minds like thee,
+         None now remains that girds
+         The peregrinal loin,
+     None reverent of Beauty's holy tongue,
+     But counterfeiters of her imaged coin,
+     Iconoclasts, breakers of carven words,
+     Seekers of worthless treasure in the dung,
+     Mock mages and cacophonous charlatans,
+         And pismire artisans
+         Labouring to make
+     Such mirrored replicas of Nature's face
+     As might the surface of a stagnant lake.
+
+         Yet we should anger not,
+         Nor let that be forgot,
+         The testament of stateliest worth
+         He left us when he fled the earth.
+         The mausoleum made of rhyme,
+         Fair in its unfrequented field,
+         Which shall invulnerably shield
+         His memory to the end of Time;
+         The house with curtain-flaming halls
+         And roof of gold and jewelled walls
+         For which the fisher sank his net
+         Into the deepest pools of speech,
+         Scooping rich conchs and ribbons wet
+         That a less venturous could not reach,
+         The hunter tracked the metaphor
+         On many a foamy silver coast
+         A hundred leagues beyond the most
+         Fabulous Tellurian shore.
+
+         Magnificent he was and mild,
+         Glad to be still and glad to speak,
+         Daring yet delicate as a child,
+         Faithful, compassionate and holy,
+         And, being human, strong and weak,
+         And full of hope and melancholy.
+         No more than we, able to shed
+         Man's nature he inherited,
+         Neither sin's garrison to kill,
+     Yet at the last with constancy so great
+     As the world's vanities to abnegate,
+     Sternly to will the sacrifice of will
+     Upon the altars of the Uncreate,
+         So that he lived before he died
+     As one who hourly to himself denied
+         All joys save those that cannot pall,
+     Who having nothing yet had all.
+
+
+
+
+     FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND
+
+
+     I
+
+     When I was a boy there was a friend of mine,
+     We thought ourselves warriors and grown folk swine,
+     Stupid old animals who never understood
+     And never had an impulse and said "you must be good."
+
+     We slank like stoats and fled like foxes,
+     We put cigarettes in the pillar-boxes,
+     Lighted cigarettes and letters all aflame--
+     O the surprise when the postman came!
+
+     We stole eggs and apples and made fine hay
+     In people's houses when people were away,
+     We broke street lamps and away we ran,
+     Then I was a boy but now I am a man.
+
+     Now I am a man and don't have any fun,
+     I hardly ever shout and I never never run,
+     And I don't care if he's dead that friend of mine,
+     For then I was a boy and now I am a swine.
+
+
+     II
+
+     We met again the other night
+     With people; you were quite polite,
+     Shook my hand and spoke awhile
+     Of common things with cautious smile;
+     Paid the usual debt men owe
+     To fellows whom they used to know.
+     But, when our eyes met full, yours dropped,
+     And sudden, resolute, you stopped,
+     Moving with hurried syllables
+     To make remarks to some one else.
+     I caught them not, to me they said:
+     "Let the dead past bury its dead,
+     Things were very different then,
+     Boys are fools and men are men."
+     Several times the other night
+     You did your best to be polite;
+     When in the conversation's round
+     You heard my tongue's familiar sound
+     You bent in eager pose my way
+     To hear what I had got to say;
+     Trying, you thought with some success,
+     To hide the chasm's nakedness.
+     But on your eyes hard films there lay;
+     No mock-interest, no pretence
+     Could veil your blank indifference;
+     And if thoughts came recalling things
+     Far-off, far-off, from those old springs
+     When underneath the moon and sun
+     Our separate pulses beat as one,
+     Vagrant tender thoughts that asked
+     Admittance found the portal masked;
+     You spurned them; when I'd said my say,
+     With laugh and nod you turned away
+     To toss your friends some easy jest
+     That smote my brow and stabbed my breast.
+     Foolish though it be and vain
+     I am not master of my pain,
+     And when I said good-night to you
+     I hoped we should not meet again,
+     And wondered how the soul I knew
+     Could change so much; have I changed too?
+
+
+     III
+
+     There was a man whom I knew well
+     Whose choice it was to live in hell;
+     Reason there was why that was so
+     But what it was I do not know.
+
+     He had a room high in a tower,
+     And sat there drinking hour by hour,
+     Drinking, drinking all alone
+     With candles and a wall of stone.
+
+     Now and then he sobered down,
+     And stayed a night with me in town.
+     If he found me with a crowd,
+     He shrank and did not speak aloud.
+
+     He sat in a corner silently,
+     And others of the company
+     Would note his curious face and eye,
+     His twitching face and timid eye.
+
+     When they saw the eye he had
+     They thought perhaps that he was mad.
+     I knew he was clear and sane
+     But had a horror in his brain.
+
+     He had much money and one friend
+     And drank quite grimly to the end.
+     Why he chose to die in hell
+     I did not ask, he did not tell.
+
+
+
+
+     LINES
+
+
+     When London was a little town
+       Lean by the river's marge,
+     The poet paced it with a frown,
+       He thought it very large.
+
+     He loved bright ship and pointing steeple
+       And bridge with houses loaded
+     And priests and many-coloured people ...
+       But ah, they were not woaded!
+
+     Not all the walls could shed the spell
+       Of meres and marshes green,
+     Nor any chaffering merchant tell
+       The beauty that had been:
+
+     The crying birds at fall of night,
+       The fisher in his coracle,
+     And grim on Ludgate's windy height,
+       An oak-tree and an oracle.
+
+     Sick for the past his hair he rent
+       And dropt a tear in season;
+     If he had cause for his lament
+       We have much better reason.
+
+     For now the fields and paths he knew
+       Are coffined all with bricks,
+     The lucid silver stream he knew
+       Runs slimy as the Styx;
+
+     North and south and east and west,
+       Far as the eye can travel,
+     Earth with a sombre web is drest
+       That nothing can unravel.
+
+     And we must wear as black a frown,
+       Wail with as keen a woe
+     That London was a little town
+       Five hundred years ago.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Yet even this place of steamy stir,
+       This pit of belch and swallow,
+     With chrism of gold and gossamer
+       The elements can hallow.
+
+     I have a room in Chancery Lane,
+       High in a world of wires,
+     Whence fall the roofs a ragged plain
+       Wooded with many spires.
+
+     There in the dawns of summer days
+       I stand in adoration,
+     While London's robed in rainbow haze
+       And gold illumination.
+
+     The wizard breezes waft the rays
+       Shot by the waking sun,
+     A myriad chimneys softly blaze,
+       A myriad shadows run.
+
+     Round the wide rim in radiant mist
+       The gentle suburbs quiver,
+     And nearer lies the shining twist
+       Of Thames, a holy river
+
+     Left and right my vision drifts,
+       By yonder towers I linger,
+     Where Westminster's cathedral lifts
+       Its belled Byzantine finger,
+
+     And here against my perched home
+       Where hold wise converse daily
+     The loftier and the lesser dome,
+       St. Paul's and the Old Bailey.
+
+
+
+
+     ECHOES
+
+
+     There is a far unfading city
+      Where bright immortal people are;
+     Remote from hollow shame and pity,
+       Their portals frame no guiding star
+     But blightless pleasure's moteless rays
+       That follow their footsteps as they dance
+     Long lutanied measures through a maze
+       Of flower-like song and dalliance.
+
+     There always glows the vernal sun,
+       There happy birds for ever sing,
+     There faint perfumed breezes run
+       Through branches of eternal spring;
+     There faces browned and fruit and milk
+       And blue-winged words and rose-bloomed kisses
+     In galleys gowned with gold and silk
+       Shake on a lake of dainty blisses.
+
+     Coyness is not, nor bear they thought
+       Save of a shining gracious flow,
+     All natural joys are temperate sought,
+       For calm desire there they know,
+     A fire promiscuous, languorous, kind;
+       They scorn all fiercer lusts and quarrels,
+     Nor blow about on anger's wind,
+       Nor burn with love, nor rust with morals.
+
+     Folk in the far unfading city,
+       Burning with lusts my senses are,
+     I am torn with love and shame and pity,
+       Be to my heart a guiding star
+     Wise youths and maidens in the sun,
+       With eyes that charm and lips that sing,
+     And gentle arms that rippling run,
+       Shed on my heart your endless spring!
+
+
+
+
+     THE FUGITIVE
+
+
+     Flying his hair and his eyes averse,
+     Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+     How could we clear his charms rehearse?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     High on a down we found him last,
+     Shy as a hare, he fled as fast;
+     How could we clasp him or ever he passed?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     How could we cling to his limbs that shone,
+     Ravish his cheeks' red gonfalon,
+     Or the wild-skin cloak that he had on?
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     For the wind of his feet still straightly shaping,
+     He loosed at our breasts from his eyes escaping
+     One crooked swift glance like a javelin leaping.
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     And his feet passed over the sunset land
+     From the place forlorn where a forlorn band
+     Watching him flying we still did stand.
+       Fleet are his feet and his heart apart.
+
+     Vanishing now who would not stay
+     To the blue hills on the verge of day.
+     O soft! soft! Music play,
+              Fading away,
+                (Fleet are his feet
+                And his heart apart)
+              Fading away.
+
+
+
+
+     IN AN ORCHARD
+
+
+     Airy and quick and wise
+       In the shed light of the sun,
+     You clasp with friendly eyes
+       The thoughts from mine that run.
+
+     But something breaks the link;
+       I solitary stand
+     By a giant gully's brink
+       In some vast gloomy land.
+
+     Sole central watcher, I
+       With steadfast sadness now
+     In that waste place descry
+       'Neath the awful heavens how
+
+     Your life doth dizzy drop
+       A little foam of flame
+     From a peak without a top
+       To a pit without a name.
+
+
+
+
+     IN A CHAIR
+
+
+     He room is full of the peace of night,
+       The small flames murmur and flicker and sway,
+     Within me is neither shadow, nor light,
+       Nor night, nor twilight, nor dawn, nor day.
+
+     For the brain strives not to the goal of thought,
+       And the limbs lie wearied, and all desire
+     Sleeps for a while, and I am naught
+       But a pair of eyes that gaze at a fire.
+
+
+
+
+     A DAY
+
+
+     I. MORNING
+
+     The village fades away
+       Where I last night came
+     Where they housed me and fed me
+       And never asked my name.
+
+     The sun shines bright, my step is light,
+       I, who have no abode,
+     Jeer at the stuck, monotonous
+       Black posts along the road.
+
+
+     II. MIDDAY
+
+             The wood is still,
+               As here I sit
+             My heart drinks in
+               The peace of it.
+
+             A something stirs
+               I know not where
+             Some quiet spirit
+               In the air.
+
+             O tall straight stems!
+               O cool deep green!
+             O hand unfelt!
+               O face unseen!
+
+
+     III. EVENING
+
+     The evening closes in,
+       As down this last long lane
+     I plod; there patter round
+       First heavy drops of rain.
+
+     Feet ache, legs ache, but now
+       Step quickens as I think
+     Of mounds of bread and cheese
+       And something hot to drink.
+
+
+     IV. NIGHT
+
+             Ah! sleep is sweet, but yet
+               I will not sleep awhile
+             Nor for a space forget
+               The toil of that last mile;
+
+             But lie awake and feel
+               The cool sheets' tremulous kisses
+             O'er all my body steal ...
+               Is sleep as sweet as this is?
+
+
+
+
+     THE MIND OF MAN
+
+
+     I
+
+     Beneath my skull-bone and my hair,
+       Covered like a poisonous well,
+     There is a land: if you looked there
+       What you saw you'd quail to tell.
+     You that sit there smiling, you
+     Know that what I say is true.
+
+     My head is very small to touch,
+       I feel it all from front to back,
+     An eared round that weighs not much,
+     Eyes, nose-holes, and a pulpy crack:
+     Oh, how small, how small it is!
+     How could countries be in this?
+
+     Yet, when I watch with eyelids shut,
+       It glimmers forth, now dark, now clear,
+     The city of Cis-Occiput,
+       The marshes and the writhing mere,
+     The land that every man I see
+     Knows in himself but not in me.
+
+
+     II
+
+     Upon the borders of the weald
+       (I walk there first when I step in)
+     Set in green wood and smiling field,
+       The city stands, unstained of sin;
+     White thoughts and wishes pure
+     Walk the streets with steps demure.
+
+     In its clean groves and spacious halls
+       The quiet-eyed inhabitants
+     Hold innocent sunny festivals
+       And mingle in decorous dance;
+     Things that destroy, distort, deface,
+     Come never to that lovely place.
+
+     Never could evil enter thither,
+       It could not live in that sweet air,
+     The shadow of an ill deed must wither
+       And fall away to nothing there.
+     You would say as there you stand
+     That all was beauty in the land.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     But go you out beyond the gateway,
+       Cleave you the woods and pass the plain,
+     Cross you the frontier down, and straightway
+       The trees will end, the grass will wane,
+     And you will come to a wilderness
+     Of sticks and parched barrenness.
+
+     The middle of the land is this,
+       A tawny desert midmost set,
+     Barren of living things it is,
+       Saving at night some vampires flit
+     That nest them in the farther marish
+     Where all save vilest things must perish.
+
+     Here in this reedy marsh of green
+       And oily pools, swarm insects fat
+     And birds of prey and beasts obscene,
+       Things that the traveller shudders at,
+     All cunning things that creep and fly
+     To suck men's blood until they die.
+
+     Rarely from hence does aught escape
+       Into the world of outer light,
+     But now and then some sable shape
+       Outward will dash in sudden flight;
+     And men stand stonied or distraught
+     To know the loathly deed or thought.
+
+     But, ah! beyond the marsh you reach
+       A purulent place more vile than all,
+     A festering lake too foul for speech,
+       Rotten and black, with coils acrawl,
+     Where writhe with lecherous squeakings shrill
+     Horrors that make the heart stand still.
+
+     There, 'neath a heaven diseased, it lies,
+       The mere alive with slimy worms,
+     With perverse terrible infamies,
+       And murders and repulsive forms
+     That have no name, but slide here deep
+     Whilst I, their holder, silence keep.
+
+
+
+
+     A REASONABLE PROTESTATION
+
+     [To F., who complained of his vagueness and lack of
+     dogmatic statement]
+
+
+     Not, I suppose, since I deny
+     Appearance is reality,
+     And doubt the substance of the earth
+     Does your remonstrance come to birth;
+     Not that at once I both affirm
+     'Tis not the skin that makes the worm
+     And every tactile thing with mass
+     Must find its symbol in the grass
+     And with a cool conviction say
+     Even a critic's more than clay
+     And every dog outlives his day.
+     This kind of vagueness suits your view,
+     You would not carp at it; for you
+     Did never stand with those who take
+     Their pleasures in a world opaque.
+     For you a tree would never be
+     Lovely were it but a tree,
+     And earthly splendours never splendid
+     If by transience unattended.
+     Your eyes are on a farther shore
+     Than any of earth; you not adore
+     As godhead God's dead hieroglyph,
+     Nor would you be perturbed if
+     Some prophet with a voice of thunder
+     And avalanche arm should blast and founder
+     The logical pillars that maintain
+     This visible world which loads the brain,
+     Loads the brain and withers the heart
+     And holds man from his God apart.
+
+     But still with you remains the craving
+     For some more solid substance, having
+     Surface to touch, colour to see,
+     And form compact in symmetry.
+     You are not satisfied with these
+     Vague throbbings, utterless ecstasies,
+     Void finds your spirit of delight
+     This great indefinite white light,
+     Not with such sickles can you reap;
+     If a dense earth you cannot keep
+     You want a dense heaven as substitute
+     With trees of plump celestial fruit,
+     Red apples, golden pomegranates,
+     And a river flowing by tall gates
+     Of topaz and of chrysolite
+     And walls of twenty cubits height.
+
+     Frank, you cry out against the age!
+     Nor you nor I can disengage
+     Ourselves from that in which we live
+     Nor seize on things God does not give.
+     Thirsty as you, perhaps, I long
+     For courtyards of eternal song,
+     Even as yours my feet would stray
+     In a city where 'tis always day
+     And a green spontaneous leafy garden
+     With God in the middle for a warden;
+     But though I trust with strengthening faith
+     I'll taste when I have traversed death
+     The unimaginable sweetness
+     Of certitude of such concreteness,
+     How should I draw the hue and scope
+     Of substances I only hope
+     Or blaze upon a mortal screen
+     The evidence of things not seen?
+     This art of ours but grows and stirs
+     Experience when it registers,
+     And you know well as I know well
+     This autumn of time in which we dwell
+     Is not an age of revelations
+     Solid as once, but intimations
+     That touch us with warm misty fingers
+     Leaving a nameless sense that lingers
+     That sight is blind and Time's a snare
+     And earth less solid than the air
+     And deep below all seeming things
+     There sits a steady king of kings
+     A radiant ageless permanence,
+     A quenchless fount of virtue whence
+     We draw our life; a sense that makes
+     A staunch conviction nothing shakes
+     Of our own immortality.
+     And though, being man, with certain glee
+     I eat and drink, though I suffer pain,
+     And love and hate and love again
+     Well or in mode contemptible,
+     Thus shackled by the body's spell
+     I see through pupils of the beast
+     Though it be faint and blurred with mist
+     A Star that travels in the East.
+
+     I see what I can, not what I will
+     In things that move, things that are still,
+     Thin motion, even cloudier rest,
+     I see the symbols God hath drest
+     The moveless trees, the trees that wave
+     The clouds that heavenly highways have,
+     Horses that run, rocks that are fixt,
+     Streams that have rest and motion mixt,
+     The main with its abiding flux,
+     The wind that up my chimney sucks
+     A mounting waterfall of flame,
+     Sticks, straws, dust, beetles and that same
+     Old blazing sun the Psalmist saw
+     A testifier to the law.
+     Divinely to the heart they speak
+     Saying how they are but weak
+     Wan will o' the wisps o'er the crystal sea;
+     But stays that sea still dark to me.
+
+     Did I now glibly insolent
+     Chart the ulterior firmament,
+     Would you not know my words were lies,
+     Where not my testimonial eyes
+     Mortal or spiritual lodge,
+     Mere uncorroborated fudge?
+     Praise me, though praise I do not want,
+     Rather, that I have cast much cant,
+     That what I see and feel I write
+     Read what I can in this dim light
+     Granted to me in nether night.
+     And though I am vague and shrink to guess
+     God's everlasting purposes,
+     And never save in perplext dream
+     Have caught the least authentic gleam
+     Of the great kingdom and the throne
+     In the world that lies behind our own,
+     I have not lacked my certainties,
+     I have not haggard moaned the skies,
+     Now waged unnecessary strife
+     Nor scorned nor overvalued life.
+     And though you say my attitude
+     Is questioning, concede my mood
+     Does never bring to tongue or pen
+     Accents of gloomy modern men
+     Who wail or hail the death of God
+     And weigh and measure man the clod,
+     Or say they draw reluctant breath
+     And musically mourn that Death
+     Is a queen omnipotent of woe
+     And Life her lean cicisbeo,
+     Abject and pale, whom vampire-like
+     She playeth with ere she shall strike,
+     And pose sad riddles to the Sphinx
+     With raven quills in purple inks,...
+     Then send the boy to fetch more drinks.
+
+
+
+
+     EPILOGUE
+
+
+     Than farthest stars more distant,
+         A mile more,
+         A mile more,
+     A voice cries on insistent:
+     "You may smile more if you will;
+
+     "You may sing too and spring too;
+         But numb at last
+         And dumb at last,
+     Whatever port you cling to,
+     You must come at last to a hill.
+
+     "And never a man you'll find there
+         To take your hand
+         And shake your hand;
+     But when you go behind there
+     You must make your hand a sword
+
+     "To fence with a foeman swarthy,
+         And swink there
+         Nor shrink there,
+     Though cowardly and worthy
+     Must drink there one reward."
+
+
+
+
+     TWELVE
+
+     TRANSLATIONS
+
+     FROM
+
+     CHARLES BAUDELAIRE
+
+
+
+
+     TOUT ENTIERE
+
+
+     This morning in my attic high
+       The Demon came to visit me,
+     And seeking faults in my reply,
+       He said: "I would inquire of thee,
+
+     "Of all the beauties which compose
+       Her charming body's potent spell,
+     Of all the objects black and rose
+       Which make the thing you love so well,
+
+     "Which is the sweetest?" O my soul!
+       Thou didst rejoin: "How tell of parts,
+     When all I know is that the whole
+       Works magic in my heart of hearts?
+
+     "Where all is fair, how should I say
+       What single grace is my delight?
+     She shines on me like break of day
+       And she consoles me as the night.
+
+     "There flows through all her perfect frame
+       A harmony too exquisite
+     That weak analysis should name
+       The numberless accords of it.
+
+     "O mystic metamorphosis!
+       My separate senses all are blent;
+     Within her breath soft music is,
+       And in her voice a subtle scent!"
+
+
+
+
+     THE ALCHEMY OF GRIEF
+
+
+     One, Nature! burns and makes thee bright,
+       One gives thee weeds to mourn withal;
+       And what to one is burial
+     Is to the other life and light.
+
+     The unknown Hermes who assists
+       And alway fills my heart with fear
+       Makes me the mighty Midas' peer
+     The saddest of the alchemists.
+
+     Through him I make gold changeable
+     To dross, and paradise to hell;
+     Clouds for its corpse-cloths I descry.
+
+     A stark dead body I love well,
+       And in the gleaming fields on high
+       I build immense sarcophagi.
+
+
+
+
+     SPLEEN
+
+
+     When the low heavy sky weighs like a lid
+       Upon the spirit aching for the light
+     And all the wide horizon's line is hid
+       By a black day sadder than any night;
+
+     When the changed earth is but a dungeon dank
+       Where batlike Hope goes blindly fluttering
+     And, striking wall and roof and mouldered plank,
+       Bruises his tender head and timid wing;
+
+     When like grim prison-bars stretch down the thin,
+       Straight, rigid pillars of the endless rain,
+     And the dumb throngs of infamous spiders spin
+       Their meshes in the caverns of the brain;--
+
+     Suddenly, bells leap forth into the air,
+       Hurling a hideous uproar to the sky
+     As 'twere a band of homeless spirits who fare
+       Through the strange heavens, wailing stubbornly.
+
+     And hearses, without drum or instrument,
+       File slowly through my soul; crushed, sorrowful,
+     Weeps Hope, and Grief, fierce and omnipotent,
+       Plants his black banner on my drooping skull.
+
+
+
+
+     A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA
+
+
+     My heart was like a bird and took to flight,
+       Around the rigging circling joyously;
+       The ship rolled on beneath a cloudless sky
+     Like a great angel drunken with the light.
+
+     "What is yon isle, sad and funereal?"
+       "Cythera famed in deathless song," said they,
+       "The gay old bachelors' Eldorado-Nay,
+     Look! 'tis a poor bare country after all!"
+
+     Isle of sweet secrets and heart banquetings!
+       The queenly shade of antique Venus thrills
+       Scentlike above thy level seas and fills
+     Our souls with languor and all amorous things.
+
+     Fair isle and of green myrtles and blown flowers
+       Held holy by all men for evermore,
+       Where the faint sighs of spirits that adore
+     Float like rose-incense through the quiet hours,
+
+     And dovelike sounds each murmured orison:--
+       Cythera lay there barren 'neath bright skies,
+       A rocky waste rent by discordant cries:
+     Natheless I saw a curious thing thereon.
+
+     No shady temple was it, close enshrined
+       I' the trees; no flower-crowned priestess hither came
+     With her young body burnt by secret flame,
+     Baring her breast to the caressing wind;
+
+     But when so close to the land's edge we drew
+       Our canvas scared the sea-fowl--gradually
+       We knew it for a three-branched gallows tree
+     Like a black cypress stark against the blue.
+
+     A rotten carcase hung, whereon did sit
+       A swarm of foul black birds; with writhe and shriek
+       Each sought to pierce and plunge his knife-like beak
+     Deep in the bleeding trunk and limbs of it.
+
+     The eyes were holes; the belly opened wide
+       Streaming its heavy entrails on the thighs;
+       The grim birds, gorged with dreadful delicacies,
+     Had dug and furrowed it on every side.
+
+     Beneath the blackened feet there strove and pressed
+       A herd of jealous beasts with upward snout,
+       And in the midst of these there turned about
+     One, the chief hangman, larger than the rest....
+
+     Lone Cytherean! now all silently
+       Thou sufferest these insults to atone
+       For those old infamous sins that thou hast known,
+     The sins that locked the gate o' the grave to thee.
+
+     Mine are thy sorrows, ludicrous corse; yea, all
+       Are mine! I stood thy swaying limbs beneath,
+       And, like a bitter vomit, to my teeth
+     There rose old shadows in a stream of gall.
+
+     O thou unhappy devil, I felt afresh,
+       Gazing at thee, the beaks and jaws of those
+       Black savage panthers and those ruthless crows,
+     Who loved of old to macerate my flesh.
+
+     The sea was calm, the sky without a cloud;
+       Henceforth for me all things that came to pass
+       Were blood and darkness,--round my heart, alas!
+     There clung that allegory, like a shroud.
+
+     Naught save mine image on a gibbet thrust
+       Found I on Venus island desolate....
+       Ah, God! the courage and strength to contemplate
+     My body and my heart without disgust.
+
+
+
+
+     THE CRACKED BELL
+
+
+     'Tis bitter-sweet, when winter nights are long,
+       To watch, beside the flames which smoke and twist,
+     The distant memories which slowly throng,
+       Brought by the chime soft-singing through the mist.
+
+     Happy the sturdy, vigorous-throated bell
+       Who, spite of age alert and confident,
+     Cries hourly, like some strong old sentinel
+       Flinging the ready challenge from his tent.
+
+     For me, my soul is cracked; when sick with care,
+     She strives with songs to people the cold air
+       It happens often that her feeble cries
+
+       Mock the harsh rattle of a man who lies
+     Wounded, forgotten, 'neath a mound of slain
+     And dies, pinned fast, writhing his limbs in pain.
+
+
+
+
+     THE OFFENDED MOON
+
+
+     O moon, O lamp of hill and secret dale!
+       Thou whom our fathers, ages out of mind,
+       Worshipped in thy blue heaven, whilst behind
+     Thy stars streamed after thee a glittering trail,
+
+     Dost see the poet, weary-eyed and pale,
+       Or lovers on their happy beds reclined,
+       Showing white teeth in sleep, or vipers twined,
+     'Neath the dry sward; or in a golden veil
+
+     Stealest thou with faint footfall o'er the grass
+       As of old, to kiss from twilight unto dawn
+     The faded charms of thine Endymion?...
+
+     "O child of this sick century, I see
+     Thy grey-haired mother leering in her glass
+     And plastering the breast that suckled thee!"
+
+
+
+
+     TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE,
+
+     1842
+
+
+     So proud your port, your arm so powerful,
+       With such a grip you grip the goddess' hair,
+       That one might take you, from your casual air,
+     For a young ruffian flinging down his trull.
+
+     Your clear eye flashing with precocity,
+       You have displayed yourself proud architect
+       Of fabrics so audaciously correct
+     That we may guess what your ripe prime will be.
+
+     Poet, our blood ebbs out through every pore;
+     Is it, perchance, the robe the Centaur bore,
+       Which made a sullen streamlet of each vein,
+
+     Was three times dipped within the venom fell
+     Of those old reptiles fierce and terrible
+       Whom, in his cradle, Hercules had slain?
+
+
+
+
+     MUSIC
+
+
+     Oft Music, as it were some moving mighty sea,
+       Bears me towards my pale
+     Star: in clear space, or 'neath a vaporous canopy
+       On-floating, I set sail.
+
+     With heaving chest which strains forward, and lungs outblown,
+       I climb the ridged steeps
+     Of those high-piled clouds which 'thwart the night are thrown,
+       Veiling its starry deeps.
+
+     I suffer all the throes, within my quivering form,
+       Of a great ship in pain,
+     Now a soft wind, and now the writhings of a storm
+
+       Upon the vasty main
+     Rock me: at other times a death-like calm, the bare
+       Mirror of my despair.
+
+
+
+
+     THE CATS
+
+
+     The lover and the stern philosopher
+       Both love, in their ripe time, the confident
+       Soft cats, the house's chiefest ornament,
+     Who like themselves are cold and seldom stir.
+
+     Of knowledge and of pleasure amorous,
+       Silence they seek and Darkness' fell domain;
+       Had not their proud souls scorned to brook his rein,
+     They would have made grim steeds for Erebus.
+
+     Pensive they rest in noble attitudes
+     Like great stretched sphinxes in vast solitudes
+       Which seem to sleep wrapt in an endless dream;
+
+     Their fruitful loins are full of sparks divine,
+     And gleams of gold within their pupils shine
+       As 'twere within the shadow of a stream.
+
+
+
+
+     THE SADNESS OF THE MOON
+
+
+     This evening the Moon dreams more languidly,
+       Like a beauty who on mounded cushions rests,
+     And with her light hand fondles lingeringly,
+       Before she sleeps, the slope of her sweet breasts.
+
+     On her soft satined avalanches' height
+       Dying, she laps herself for hours and hours
+     In long, long swoons, and gazes at the white
+       Visions which rise athwart the blue like flowers.
+
+     When sometimes in her perfect indolence
+     She lets a furtive tear steal gently thence,
+       Some pious poet, a lone, sleepless one,
+
+     Takes in his hollowed hand this gem, shot through,
+     Like an opal stone, with gleams of every hue,
+       And in his heart's depths hides it from the sun.
+
+
+
+
+     MOESTA ET ERRABUNDA
+
+     Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache,
+       Plunged in this squalid city's filthy sea,
+     For another ocean where the splendours break
+       Blue, clear, and deep as is virginity.
+     Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache?
+
+     The sea, the sea unending, comforts us!
+       What demon gave the hoarse old sea who sings
+     To her mumbling hurricanes' organ thunderous
+       The god-like power to cradle sorrowful things?
+     The sea, the sea unending, comforts us.
+
+     Carry me, wagon, bear me, barque, away!
+       Far! Far! For here the mud is made of tears!
+     Does Agatha's sad heart not sometimes say:
+       "O far from shudderings and crimes and fears,
+     Carry me, wagon; bear me barque, away?"
+
+     How far thou art, O scented paradise,
+       O paradise where all is love and joy,
+     Where all is worthy love 'neath the azure skies,
+       And the heart drowns in bliss without alloy!
+     How far thou art, O scented paradise!
+
+     But the green paradise of childish loves,
+       The games, the songs, the kisses and the flowers,
+     The laughing draughts of wine in hidden groves,
+       The violins throbbing through the twilight hours,
+     --But the green paradise of childish loves,
+
+     The artless paradise of stealthy joys,
+       Is that already leagues beyond Cathay?
+     And can one, with a little plaintive noise,
+       Bring it again that is so far away--
+     The artless paradise of stealthy joys?
+
+
+
+
+     THE OWLS
+
+
+     'Neath their black yews in solemn state
+       The owls are sitting in a row
+       Like foreign gods; and even so
+     Blink their red eyes; they meditate.
+
+     Quite motionless they hold them thus
+       Until at last the day is done,
+       And driving down the slanting sun,
+     The sad night is victorious.
+
+     They teach the wise who gives them ear
+     That in this world he most should fear
+       All things which loud or restless be.
+
+     Who, dazzled by a passing shade,
+       Follows it, never will be free
+     Till the dread penalty be paid.
+
+FINIS
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Three Hills, by
+John Collings Squire and Charles Baudelaire
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