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diff --git a/40344-0.txt b/40344-0.txt index c0ecf1d..f167809 100644 --- a/40344-0.txt +++ b/40344-0.txt @@ -1,30 +1,4 @@ - POEMS - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Title: Poems - 1916-1918 - -Author: Francis Brett Young - -Release Date: July 26, 2012 [EBook #40344] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40344 *** Produced by Al Haines. @@ -2114,376 +2088,4 @@ ENVOI Your beauty shineth no less: And even if I were dead I think your shadow would awaken me. - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40344 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Title: Poems - 1916-1918 - -Author: Francis Brett Young - -Release Date: July 26, 2012 [EBook #40344] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - - POEMS - - 1916-1918 - - - BY - - FRANCIS BRETT YOUNG - - - - - LONDON: 48 PALL MALL - W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD. - GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND - - - - - Copyright 1919 - - - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR - -_Novels:_ - - THE YOUNG PHYSICIAN - THE CRESCENT MOON - THE IRON AGE - THE DARK TOWER - DEEP SEA - UNDERGROWTH (with E. Brett Young) - - -_Poems:_ - - FIVE DEGREES SOUTH - - -_Belles Lettres:_ - - ROBERT BRIDGES: A Critical Study - MARCHING ON TANGA - - - - - TO - EDYTH GOODALL - - -_Remember thus our sweet conspiracy: -That I, having dreamed a lovely thing, with dull -Words marred it--and you gave it back to me -A thousand, thousand times more beautiful._ - - - - - ERRATA - -Page 26, line 17, _for_ "Lybian" _read_ "Libyan." -Page 46, line 9, _for_ "lythe" _read_ "lithe." -Page 70, line 13, _for_ "tyrranous" _read_ "tyrannous." - - -[Transcriber's note: the above errata have been applied to this etext. -The word "Lybia" was also on page 32, and was corrected as above. -Similarly, "tyrranous" was also on page 86, and was corrected.] - - - - - CONTENTS - - -PROTHALAMION -TESTAMENT -LOCHANILAUN -LETTERMORE -LAMENT -THE LEMON-TREE -PHTHONOS -EASTER -THE LEANING ELM -THE JOYOUS LOVER -DEAD POETS -PORTON WATER -AN OLD HOUSE -THE DHOWS -THE GIFT -FIVE DEGREES SOUTH -104 FAHRENHEIT -FEVER-TREES -THE RAIN-BIRD -MOTHS -BTE HUMAINE -DOVES -SONG (i) -BEFORE ACTION -ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION -AFTER ACTION -SONNET -A FAREWELL TO AFRICA -SONG (ii) -THE HAWTHORN SPRAY -THE PAVEMENT -TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (i) -TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (ii) -TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (iii) -GHOSTLY LOVES -FEBRUARY -SONG OF THE DARK AGES -WINTER SUNSET -SONG (iii) -ENGLAND, APRIL 1918 -SLENDER THEMES -INVOCATION -THAMAR -ENVOI - - - - -PROTHALAMION - - - When the evening came my love said to me: - Let us go into the garden now that the sky is cool, - The garden of black hellebore and rosemary, - Where wild woodruff spills in a milky pool. - - Low we passed in the twilight, for the wavering heat - Of day had waned, and round that shaded plot - Of secret beauty the thickets clustered sweet: - Here is heaven, our hearts whispered, but our lips spake not. - - Between that old garden and seas of lazy foam - Gloomy and beautiful alleys of trees arise - With spire of cypress and dreamy beechen dome, - So dark that our enchanted sight knew nothing but the skies - - Veiled with soft air, drench'd in the roses' musk - Or the dusky, dark carnation's breath of clove; - No stars burned in their deeps, but through the dusk - I saw my love's eyes, and they were brimmed with love. - - No star their secret ravished, no wasting moon - Mocked the sad transience of those eternal hours: - Only the soft, unseeing heaven of June, - The ghosts of great trees, and the sleeping flowers. - - For doves that crooned in the leafy noonday now - Were silent; the night-jar sought his secret covers, - Nor even a mild sea-whisper moved a creaking bough-- - Was ever a silence deeper made for lovers? - - Was ever a moment meeter made for love? - Beautiful are your closed lips beneath my kiss; - And all your yielding sweetness beautiful-- - Oh, never in all the world was such a night as this! - - - - -TESTAMENT - - - If I had died, and never seen the dawn - For which I hardly hoped, lighting this lawn - Of silvery grasses; if there had been no light, - And last night merged into perpetual night; - I doubt if I should ever have been content - To have closed my eyes without some testament - To the great benefits that marked my faring - Through the sweet world; for all my joy was sharing - And lonely pleasures were few. Unto which end - Three legacies I'll send, - Three legacies, already half possess'd: - One to a friend, of all good friends the best, - Better than which is nothing; yet another - Unto thy twin, dissimilar spirit, Brother; - The third to you, - Most beautiful, most true, - Most perfect one, to whom they all are due. - - Quick, quick ... while there is time.... - O best of friends, I leave you one sublime - Summer, one fadeless summer. 'Twas begun - Ere Cotswold hawthorn tarnished in the sun, - When hedges were fledged with green, and early swallows - Swift-darting, on curved wings, pillaged the fallows; - When all our vale was dappled blossom and light, - And oh, the scent of beanfields in the night! - You shall remember that rich dust at even - Which made old Evesham like a street in heaven, - Gold-paved, and washed within a wave of golden - Air all her dreamy towers and gables olden. - You shall remember - How arms sun-blistered, hot palms crack'd with rowing, - Clove the cool water of Avon, sweetly flowing; - And how our bodies, beautifully white, - Stretch'd to a long stroke lengthened in green light, - And we, emerging, laughed in childish wise, - And pressed the kissing water from our eyes. - Ah, was our laughter childish, or were we wise? - And then, crown of the day, a tired returning - With happy sunsets over Bredon burning, - With music and with moonlight, and good ale, - And no thought for the morrow.... Heavy phlox - Our garden pathways bordered, and evening stocks, - Those humble weeds, in sunlight withered and pale, - With a night scent to match the nightingale, - Gladdened with spicd sweetness sweet night's shadows, - Meeting the breath of hay from mowing meadows: - As humble was our joy, and as intense - Our rapture. So, before I hurry hence, - Yours be the memory. - One night again, - When we were men, and had striven, and known pain, - By a dark canal debating, unresigned, - On the blind fate that shadows humankind, - On the blind sword that severs human love... - Then did the hidden belfry from above - On troubled minds in benediction shed - The patience of the great anonymous dead - Who reared those towers, those high cathedrals builded - In solemn stone, and with clear fancy gilded - A beauty beyond ours, trusting in God. - Then dared we follow the dark way they trod, - And bowing to the universal plan - Trust in the true and fiery spirit of Man. - - And you, my Brother, - You know, as knows one other, - How my spirit revisiteth a room - In a high wing, beneath pine-trees, where gloom - Dwelleth, dispelled by resinous wood embers, - Where, in half-darkness ... How the heart remembers... - We talked of beauty, and those fiery things - To which the divine desirous spirit clings, - In a wing'd rapture to that heaven flinging, - Where beauty is an easy thing, and singing - The natural speech of man. Like kissing swords - Our wits clashed there; the brittle beauty of words - Breaking, seemed to discover its secret heart - And all the rapt elusiveness of Art. - Now I have known sorrow, and now I sing - That a lovely word is not an idle thing; - For as with stars the cloth of night is spangled, - With star-like words, most lovelily entangled, - The woof of sombre thought is deckt.... Ah, bright - And cold they glitter in the spirit's night! - But neither distant nor dispassionate; - For beauty is an armour against fate.... - I tell you, who have stood in the dark alone. - Seeing the face that turneth all to stone, - Medusa, blind with hate, - While I was dying, Beauty sate with me - Nor tortured any longer; gracious was she; - To her soft words I listened, and was content - To die, nor sorry that my light was spent. - So, Brother, if I come not home, - Go to that little room - That my spirit revisiteth, and there, - Somewhere in the blue air, you shall discover - If that you be a lover - Nor haughtily minded, all that once half-shaped - Then fled us, and escaped: - All that I found that day, - Far, so far away. - - And you, my lovely one, - What can I leave to you, who, you having left, - Am utterly bereft? - What in my store of visionary dowers - Is not already yours? - What silences, what hours - Of peace passing all understanding; days - Made lyric by your beauty and its praise; - Years neither time can tarnish, nor death mar, - Wherein you shined as steadfast as a star - In my bleak night, heedless of the cloud-wrack - Scudding in torn fleeces black - Of my dark moods, as those who rule the far - Star-haunted pleasaunces of heaven are? - So think but lightly of that afternoon - With white clouds climbing a blue sky in June - When a boy worshipped under dreaming trees, - Who touched your hand, and sought your eyes. - ... Ah, cease, - Not these, not these... - Nor yet those nights when icy Brathay thundered - Under his bridges, and ghostly mountains wondered - At the white blossoming of a Christmas rose - More stainless than their snows; - Nor even of those placid days together - Mellow as early autumn's amber weather - When beech is ankleted with fire, and old - Elms wear their livery of yellow gold, - When orchards all are laden with increase, - And the quiet earth hath fruited, and knows peace - Oh, think not overmuch on those sweet years - Lest their last fruit be tears,-- - Your tears, beloved, that were my utmost pain,-- - But rather, dream again - How that a lover, half poet and half child, - An eager spirit of fragile fancies wild - Compact, adored the beauty and truth in you: - To your own truth be true; - And when, not mournfully, you turn this page - Consider still your starry heritage, - Continue in your loveliness, a star - To gladden me from afar - Even where there is no light - In my last night. - - - - -LOCHANILAUN - - - This is the image of my last content: - My soul shall be a little lonely lake, - So hidden that no shadow of man may break - The folding of its mountain battlement; - Only the beautiful and innocent - Whiteness of sea-born cloud drooping to shake - Cool rain upon the reed-beds, or the wake - Of churn'd cloud in a howling wind's descent. - For there shall be no terror in the night - When stars that I have loved are born in me, - And cloudy darkness I will hold most fair; - But this shall be the end of my delight: - That you, my lovely one, may stoop and see - Your image in the mirrored beauty there. - - - - -LETTERMORE - - - These winter days on Lettermore - The brown west wind it sweeps the bay, - And icy rain beats on the bare - Unhomely fields that perish there: - The stony fields of Lettermore - That drink the white Atlantic spray. - - And men who starve on Lettermore, - Cursing the haggard, hungry surf, - Will souse the autumn's bruisd grains - To light dark fires within their brains - And fight with stones on Lettermore - Or sprawl beside the smoky turf. - - When spring blows over Lettermore - To bloom the ragged furze with gold, - The lovely south wind's living breath - Is laden with the smell of death: - For fever breeds on Lettermore - To waste the eyes of young and old. - - A black van comes to Lettermore; - The horses stumble on the stones, - The drivers curse,--for it is hard - To cross the hills from Oughterard - And cart the sick from Lettermore: - A stinking load of rags and bones. - - But you will go to Lettermore - When white sea-trout are on the run, - When purple glows between the rocks - About Lord Dudley's fishing-box - Adown the road to Lettermore, - And wide seas tarnish in the sun. - - And so you'll think of Lettermore - As a lost island of the blest: - With peasant lovers in a blue - Dim dusk, with heather drench'd in dew, - And the sweet peace of Lettermore - Remote and dreaming in the West. - - - - -LAMENT - - - Once, I think, a finer fire - Touched my lips, and then I sang - Half the songs of my desire: - With their splendour the world rang. - - And their sweetness made me free - Of those starry ways whereby - Planets make their minstrelsy - In echoing, unending sky. - - So, before that spell was broken, - Song of the wind, surge of the sea,-- - Beautiful passionate things unspoken - Rose like a breaking wave in me: - - Rose like a wave with curled crest - That green sunlight splinters through... - But the wave broke within my breast: - And now I am a man like you. - - - - -THE LEMON-TREE - - - Last night, last night, a vision of you - Sweetly troubled my waking dream: - Beneath the clear Algerian blue - You stood with lifted eyes: the beam - Of a winter sun beat on the crown - Of a lemon-tree, whose delicate fruit - Like pale lamps hung airily down; - And in your gazing eyes a mute - And lovely wonder.... Have I sung - Of slender things and naught beside? - You were so beautifully young - I must have kissed you or have died. - - - - -PHTHONOS - -If, in high jealousy, God made me blind -And laughed to see me stumble in the night, -Driving his many-splintered arrows of light -Into that lost dominion of my mind; -Then, knowing me still unvext and unresigned, -Stole from my ears all homely sounds that might -Temper the darkness, saying, in heaven's despite, -I had not wholly left the world behind; -So, sunless, soundless, if, to make an end, -He smote the nerves that move, the nerves that feel: -Even then, O jealous one, I would not complain -If I were spared the wealth I cannot spend, -If I were left the treasure none can steal: -The lovely words that wander through my brain. - - - - -EASTER - - - Adown our lane at Eastertide - Hosts of dancing bluebells lay - In pools of light: and 'Oh,' you cried, - 'Look, look at them: I think that they - Are bluer than the laughing sea,' - And 'Look!' you cried, 'a piece of the sky - Has fallen down for you and me - To gaze upon and love.' ... And I, - Seeing in your eyes the dancing blue - And in your heart the innocent birth - Of a pure delight, I knew, I knew - That heaven had fallen upon earth. - - - - -THE LEANING ELM - - - Before my window, in days of winter hoar - Huddled a mournful wood: - Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore, - In stony sleep they stood: - But you, unhappy elm, the angry west - Had chosen from the rest, - Flung broken on your brothers' branches bare, - And left you leaning there - So dead that when the breath of winter cast - Wild snow upon the blast, - The other living branches, downward bowed, - Shook free their crystal shroud - And shed upon your blackened trunk beneath, - Their livery of death.... - - On windless nights between the beechen bars - I watched cold stars - Throb whitely in the sky, and dreamily - Wondered if any life lay locked in thee: - If still the hidden sap secretly moved, - As water in the icy winterbourne - Floweth unheard; - And half I pitied you your trance forlorn: - You could not hear, I thought, the voice of any bird, - The shadowy cries of bats in dim twilight - Or cool voices of owls crying by night.... - Hunting by night under the hornd moon: - Yet half I envied you your wintry swoon, - Till, on this morning mild, the sun, new-risen - Steals from his misty prison; - - The frozen fallows glow, the black trees shaken - In a clear flood of sunlight vibrating awaken: - And lo, your ravaged bole, beyond belief - Slenderly fledged anew with tender leaf - As pale as those twin vanes that break at last - In a tiny fan above the black beech-mast - Where no blade springeth green - But pallid bells of the shy helleborine. - What is this ecstasy that overwhelms - The dreaming earth? See, the embrownd elms - Crowding purple distances warm the depths of the wood; - A new-born wind tosses their tassels brown, - His white clouds dapple the down; - Into a green flame bursting the hedgerows stand; - Soon, with banners flying, Spring will walk the land.... - - There is no day for thee, my soul, like this, - No spring of lovely words. Nay, even the kiss - Of mortal love that maketh man divine - This light cannot outshine: - Nay, even poets, they whose frail hands catch - The shadow of vanishing beauty, may not match - This leafy ecstasy. Sweet words may cull - Such magical beauty as time may not destroy; - But we, alas, are not more beautiful: - We cannot flower in beauty as in joy. - We sing, our musd words are sped, and then - Poets are only men - Who age, and toil, and sicken.... This maim'd tree - May stand in leaf when I have ceased to be. - - - - -THE JOYOUS LOVER - - - O, now that I am free as the air - And fleet as clouds above, - I will wander everywhere - Over the ways I love. - - Lightly, lightly will I pass - Nor scatter as I go - A shadow on the blowing grass - Or a footprint in the snow. - - All the wild things of the wood - That once were timid and shy - They shall not flee their solitude - For fear, when I pass by; - - And beauty, beauty, the wide world over, - Shall blush when I draw near: - She knows her lover, the joyous lover, - And greets him without fear. - - But if I come to the dark room - From which our love hath fled - And bend above you in the gloom - Or kneel beside your bed, - - Smile soft in your sleep, my beautiful one, - For if you should say 'Nay' - To the dream which visiteth you alone, - My joy would wither away. - - - - -DEAD POETS - - - -ODE WRITTEN AT WILTON HOUSE - - - Last night, amazed, I trod on holy ground - Breathing an air that ancient poets knew, - Where, in a valley compassed with sweet sound, - Beneath a garden's alley'd shades of yew, - With eager feet passd that singer sweet - Who Stella loved, whom bloody Zutphen slew - In the starred zenith of his knightly fame. - There too a dark-stoled figure I did meet: - Herbert, whose faith burned true - And steadfast as the altar candle's flame. - - Under the Wilton cedars, pondering - Upon the pains of Beauty and the wrong - That sealeth lovely lips, fated to sing, - Before they reach the cadence of their song, - I mused upon dead poets: mighty ones - Who sang and suffered: briefly heard were they - As Libyan nightingales weary of wing - Fleeing the temper of Saharan suns - To gladden our moon'd May, - And with the broken blossom vanishing. - - So to my eyes a sorrowful vision came - Of one whose name was writ in water: bright - His cheeks and eyes burned with a hectic flame; - And one, alas! I saw whose passionate might - Was spent upon a fevered fen in Greece; - One shade there was who, starving, choked with bread; - One, a drown'd corpse, through stormy water slips; - One in the numbing poppy-juice found peace; - And one, a youth, lay dead - With powdered arsenic upon his lips. - - O bitter were the sorrow that could dull - The sombre music of slow evening - Here, where the old world is so beautiful - That even lesser lips are moved to sing - How the wide heron sails into the light - Black as the cedarn shadows on the lawns - Or stricken woodlands patient in decay, - And river water murmurs through the night - Until autumnal dawns - Burn in the glass of Nadder's watery way. - - Nay, these were they by whom the world was lost, - To whom the world most richly gave: forlorn - Beauty they worshipp'd, counting not the cost - If of their torment beauty might be born; - And life, the splendid flower of their delight, - Loving too eagerly, they broke, and spill'd - The perfume that the folded petals close - Before its prime; yet their frail fingers white - From that bruised bloom distill'd - Uttermost attar of the living rose. - - Wherefore, O shining ones, I will not mourn - You, who have ravish'd beauty's secret ways - Beneath death's impotent shadow, suffering scorn, - Hatred, and desolation in her praise.... - Thus as I spoke their phantom faces smiled, - As brooding night with heavy downward wing - Fell upon Wilton's elegiac stone, - On the dark woodlands and the waters wild - And every living thing-- - Leaving me there amazd and alone. - - - - -PORTON WATER - - - Through Porton village, under the bridge, - A clear bourne floweth, with grasses trailing, - Wherein are shadows of white clouds sailing, - And elms that shelter under the ridge. - - Through Porton village we passed one day, - Marching the plain for mile on mile, - And crossed the bridge in single file, - Happily singing, and marched away - - Over the bridge where the shallow races, - Under a clear and frosty sky: - And the winterbourne, as we marched by, - Mirrored a thousand laughing faces. - - O, do we trouble you, Porton river, - We who laughing passed, and after - Found a resting-place for laughter? - Over here, where the poplars shiver - - By stagnant waters, we lie rotten. - On windless nights, in the lonely places, - There, where the winter water races, - O, Porton river, are we forgotten? - - Through Porton village, under the bridge, - The clear bourne floweth with grasses trailing, - Wherein are shadows of light cloud sailing, - And elms that shelter under the ridge. - - The pale moon she comes and looks; - Over the lonely spire she climbs; - For there she is lovelier many times - Than in the little broken brooks. - - - - -AN OLD HOUSE - - - No one lives in the old house; long ago - The voices of men and women left it lonely. - They shuttered the sightless windows in a row, - Imprisoning empty darkness--darkness only. - - Beyond the garden-closes, with sudden thunder - The lumbering troop-train passing clanks and jangles; - And I, a stranger, peer with careless wonder - Into the thickets of the garden tangles. - - Yet, as I pass, a transient vision dawns - Ghostly upon my pondering spirit's gloom, - Of grey lavender bushes and weedy lawns - And a solitary cherry-tree in bloom.... - - No one lives in the old house: year by year - The plaster crumbles on the lonely walls: - The apple falls in the lush grass; the pear, - Pulpy with ripeness, on the pathway falls. - - Yet this the garden was, where, on spring nights - Under the cherry-blossom, lovers plighted - Have wondered at the moony billows white, - Dreaming uncountable springs by love delighted; - - Whose ears have heard the blackbird's jolly whistle, - The shadowy cries of bats in twilight flitting - Zigzag beneath the eaves; or, on the thistle, - The twitter of autumn birds swinging and sitting; - - Whose eyes, on winter evenings, slow returning - Saw on the frosted paths pale lamplight fall - Streaming, or, on the hearth, red embers burning, - And shadows of children playing in the hall. - - Where have they gone, lovers of another day? - (No one lives in the old house; long ago - They shuttered the sightless windows....) Where are they, - Whose eyes delighted in this moony snow? - - I cannot tell ... and little enough they care, - Though April spray the cherry-boughs with light, - And autumn pile her harvest unaware - Under the walls that echoed their delight. - - I cannot tell ... yet I am as those lovers; - For me, who pass on my predestinate way, - The prodigal blossom billows and recovers - In ghostly gardens a hundred miles away. - - Yet, in my heart, a melancholy rapture - Tells me that eyes, which now an iron haste - Hurries to iron days, may here recapture - A vision of ancient loveliness gone to waste. - - - - -THE DHOWS - - - South of Guardafui with a dark tide flowing - We hailed two ships with tattered canvas bent to the monsoon, - Hung betwixt the outer sea and pale surf showing - Where dead cities of Libya lay bleaching in the moon. - - 'Oh whither be ye sailing with torn sails broken?' - 'We sail, we sail for Sheba, at Suliman's behest, - With carven silver phalli for the ebony maids of Ophir - From brown-skinned baharias of Arabia the Blest.' - - 'Oh whither be ye sailing, with your dark flag flying?' - 'We sail, with creaking cedar, towards the Northern Star. - The helmsman singeth wearily, and in our hold are lying - A hundred slaves in shackles from the marts of Zanzibar.' - - 'Oh whither be ye sailing...?' - 'Alas, we sail no longer: - Our hulls are wrack, our sails are dust, as any man might know. - And why should you torment us? ... Your iron keels are stronger - Than ghostly ships that sailed from Tyre a thousand years ago.' - - - - -THE GIFT - - - Marching on Tanga, marching the parch'd plain - Of wavering spear-grass past Pangani River, - England came to me--me who had always ta'en - But never given before--England, the giver, - In a vision of three poplar-trees that shiver - On still evenings of summer, after rain, - By Slapton Ley, where reed-beds start and quiver - When scarce a ripple moves the upland grain. - Then I thanked God that now I had suffered pain, - And, as the parch'd plain, thirst, and lain awake - Shivering all night through till cold daybreak: - In that I count these sufferings my gain - And her acknowledgment. Nay, more, would fain - Suffer as many more for her sweet sake. - - - - -FIVE DEGREES SOUTH - - - I love all waves and lovely water in motion, - That wavering iris in comb of the blown spray: - Iris of tumbled nautilus in the wake's commotion, - Their spread sails dipped in a marmoreal way - Unquarried, wherein are greeny bubbles blowing - Plumes of faint spray, cool in the deep - And lucent seas, that pause not in their flowing - To lap the southern starlight while they sleep. - These I have seen, these I have loved and known: - I have seen Jupiter, that great star, swinging - Like a ship's lantern, silent and alone - Within his sea of sky, and heard the singing - Of the south trade, that siren of the air, - Who shivers the taut shrouds, and singeth there. - - - - -104 FAHRENHEIT - - - To-night I lay with fever in my veins - Consumed, tormented creature of fire and ice, - And, weaving the enhavock'd brain's device, - Dreamed that for evermore I must walk these plains - Where sunlight slayeth life, and where no rains - Abated the fierce air, nor slaked its fire: - So that death seemed the end of all desire, - To ease the distracted body of its pains. - And so I died, and from my eyes the glare - Faded, nor had I further need of breath; - But when I reached my hand to find you there - Beside me, I found nothing.... Lonely was death. - And with a cry I wakened, but to hear - Thin wings of fever singing in my ear. - - - - -FEVER-TREES - - - The beautiful Acacia - She sighs in desert lands: - Over the burning waterways - Of Africa she sways and sways, - Even where no air glideth - In cooling green she stands. - - The beautiful Acacia - She hath a yellow dress: - A slender trunk of lemon sheen - Gleameth through the tender green - (Where the thorn hideth) - Shielding her loveliness. - - The beautiful Acacia - Dwelleth in deadly lands: - Over the brooding waterways - Where death breedeth, she sways and sways, - And no man long abideth - In valleys where she stands. - - - - -THE RAIN-BIRD - - - High on the tufted baobab-tree - To-night a rain-bird sang to me - A simple song, of three notes only, - That made the wilderness more lonely; - - For in my brain it echoed nearly, - Old village church bells chiming clearly: - The sweet cracked bells, just out of tune, - Over the mowing grass in June-- - - Over the mowing grass, and meadows - Where the low sun casts long shadows. - And cuckoos call in the twilight - From elm to elm, in level flight. - - Now through the evening meadows move - Slow couples of young folk in love, - Who pause at every crooked stile - And kiss in the hawthorn's shade the while: - - Like pale moths the summer frocks - Hover between the beds of phlox, - And old men, feeling it is late, - Cease their gossip at the gate, - - Till deeper still the twilight grows, - And night blossometh, like a rose - Full of love and sweet perfume, - Whose heart most tender stars illume. - - Here the red sun sank like lead, - And the sky blackened overhead; - Only the locust chirped at me - From the shadowy baobab-tree. - - - - -MOTHS - - - When I lay wakeful yesternight - My fever's flame was a clear light, - A taper, flaring in the wind, - Whither, fluttering out of the dim - Night, many dreams glimmered by. - Like moths, out of the darkness, blind, - Hurling at that taper's flame, - From drinking honey of the night's flowers - Into my circled light they came: - So near I could see their soft colours, - Grey of the dove, most soothely grey; - But my heat singed their wings, and away - Darting into the dark again, - They escaped me.... - Others floated down - Like those vaned seeds that fall - In autumn from the sycamore's crown - When no leaf trembleth nor branch is stirred, - More silent in flight than any bird, - Or bat's wings flitting in darkness, soft - As lizards moving on a white wall - They came quietly from aloft - Down through my circle of light, and so - Into unlighted gloom below. - But one dream, strong-winged, daring - Flew beating at the heart of the flame - Till I feared it would have put out my light, - My thin taper, fitfully flaring, - And that I should be left alone in the night - With no more dreams for my delight. - - Can it be that from the dead - Even their dreams, their dreams are fled? - - - - -BTE HUMAINE - - - Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise, - I saw the world awake; and as the ray - Touched the tall grasses where they dream till day, - Lo, the bright air alive with dragonflies, - With brittle wings aquiver, and great eyes - Piloting crimson bodies, slender and gay. - I aimed at one, and struck it, and it lay - Broken and lifeless, with fast-fading dyes... - Then my soul sickened with a sudden pain - And horror, at my own careless cruelty, - That where all things are cruel I had slain - A creature whose sweet life it is to fly: - Like beasts that prey with bloody claw... - Nay, they - Must slay to live, but what excuse had I? - - - - -DOVES - - - On the edge of the wild-wood - Grey doves fluttering: - Grey doves of Astarte - To the woods at daybreak - Lazily uttering - Their murmured enchantment, - Old as man's childhood; - - While she, pale divinity - Of hidden evil, - Silvers the regions chaste - Of cold sky, and broodeth - Over forests primeval - And all that thorny waste's - Wooded infinity. - - 'Lovely goddess of groves,' - Cried I, 'what enchanted - Sinister recesses - Of these lone shades - May still be haunted - By thy demon caresses, - Thy unholy loves?' - - But clear day quelleth - Her dominion lonely, - And the soft ring-dove, - Murmuring, telleth - That dark sin only - From man's lust springeth, - In man's heart dwelleth. - - - - -SONG - - - I made a song in my love's likeness - From colours of my quietude, - From trees whose blossoms shine no less - Than butterflies in the wild-wood. - - I laid claim on all beauty - Under the sun to praise her wonder, - Till the noise of war swept over me, - Stopp'd my singing mouth with thunder. - - The angel of death hath swift wings, - I heard him strip the huddled trees - Overhead, as a hornet sings, - And whip the grass about my knees. - - Down we crouched in the parchd dust, - Down beneath that deadly rain: - Dead still I lay, as lie one must - Who hath a bullet in his brain. - - Dead they left me: but my soul, waking, - Quietly laughed at their distress - Who guessed not that I still was making - That new song in my love's likeness. - - - - -BEFORE ACTION - - - Now the wind of the dawn sighs, - Now red embers have burned white, - Under the darkness faints and dies - The slow-beating heart of night. - - Into the darkness my eyes peer - Seeing only faces steel'd, - And level eyes that know not fear; - Yet each heart is a battlefield - - Where phantom armies foin and feint - And bloody victories are won - From the time when stars are faint - To the rising of the sun. - - With banners broken, and the roll - Of drums, at dawn the phantoms fly: - A man must commune with his soul - When he marches out to die. - - O day of wrath and of desire! - For each may know upon this day - Whether he be a thing of fire - Or fettered to the traitor clay. - - Such is the hazard that is thrown: - We know not how the dice may fall: - All the secrets shall be known - Or else we shall not know at all. - - - - -ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION - - - Into that dry and most desolate place - With heavy gait they dragged the stretcher in - And laid him on the bloody ground: the din - Of Maxim fire ceased not. I raised his head, - And looked into his face, - And saw that he was dead. - Saw beneath matted curls the broken skin - That let the bullet in; - And saw the limp, lithe limbs, the smiling mouth... - (Ah, may we smile at death - As bravely....) the curv'd lips that no more drouth - Should blacken, and no sweetly stirring breath - Mildly displace. - So I covered the calm face - And stripped the shirt from his firm breast, and there, - A zinc identity disc, a bracelet of elephant hair - I found.... Ah, God, how deep it stings - This unendurable pity of small things! - - But more than this I saw, - That dead stranger welcoming, more than the raw - And brutal havoc of war. - England I saw, the mother from whose side - He came hither and died, she at whose hems he had play'd, - In whose quiet womb his body and soul were made. - That pale, estrangd flesh that we bowed over - Had breathed the scent in summer of white clover; - Dreamed her cool fading nights, her twilights long, - And days as careless as a blackbird's song - Heard in the hush of eve, when midges' wings - Make a thin music, and the night-jar spins. - (For it is summer, I thought, in England now....) - And once those forward gazing eyes had seen - Her lovely living green: that blackened brow - Cool airs, from those blue hills moving, had fann'd-- - Breath of that holy land - Whither my soul aspireth without despair: - In the broken brain had many a lovely word - Awakened magical echoes of things heard, - Telling of love and laughter and low voices, - And tales in which the English heart rejoices - In vanishing visions of childhood and its glories: - Old-fashioned nursery rhymes and fairy stories: - Words that only an English tongue could tell. - - And the firing died away; and the night fell - On our battle. Only in the sullen sky - A prairie fire, with huge fantastic flame - Leapt, lighting dark clouds charged with thunder. - And my heart was sick with shame - That there, in death, he should lie, - Crying: 'Oh, why am I alive, I wonder?' - - In a dream I saw war riding the land: - Stark rode she, with bowed eyes, against the glare - Of sack'd cities smouldering in the dark, - A tired horse, lean, with outreaching head, - And hid her face of dread.... - Yet, in my passion would I look on her, - Crying, O hark, - Thou pale one, whom now men say bearest the scythe - Of God, that iron scythe forged by his thunder - For reaping of nations overripened, fashioned - Upon the clanging anvil whose sparks, flying - In a starry night, dying, fall hereunder.... - But she, she heeded not my cry impassioned - Nor turned her face of dread, - Urging the tired horse, with outreaching head, - O thou, cried I, who choosest for thy going - These bloomy meadows of youth, these flowery ways - Whereby no influence strays - Ruder than a cold wind blowing, - Or beating needles of rain, - Why must thou ride again - Ruthless among the pastures yet unripened, - Crushing their beauty in thine iron track - Downtrodden, ravish'd in thy following flame, - Parched and black? - But she, she stayed not in her weary haste - Nor turned her face; but fled: - And where she passed the lands lay waste.... - - And now I cannot tell whither she rideth: - But tired, tired rides she. - Yet know I well why her dread face she hideth: - She is pale and faint to death. Yea, her day faileth, - Nor all her blood, nor all her frenzy burning, - Nor all her hate availeth: - For she passeth out of sight - Into that night - From which none, none returneth - To waste the meadows of youth, - Nor vex thine eyelids, Routhe, - O sorrowful sister, soother of our sorrow. - And a hope within me springs - That fair will be the morrow, - And that charred plain, - Those flowery meadows, shall rejoice at last - In a sweet, clean - Freshness, as when the green - Grass springeth, where the prairie fire hath passed. - - - - -AFTER ACTION - - - All through that day of battle the broken sound - Of shattering Maxim fire made mad the wood; - So that the low trees shuddered where they stood, - And echoes bellowed in the bush around: - But when, at last the light of day was drowned, - That madness ceased.... Ah, God, but it was good! - There, in the reek of iodine and blood, - I flung me down upon the thorny ground. - So quiet was it, I might well have been lying - In a room I love, where the ivy cluster shakes - Its dew upon the lattice panes at even: - Where rusty ivory scatters from the dying - Jessamine blossom, and the musk-rose breaks - Her dusky bloom beneath a summer heaven. - - - - -SONNET - - - Not only for remembered loveliness, - England, my mother, my own, we hold thee rare - Who toil, and fight, and sicken beneath the glare - Of brazen skies that smile on our duress, - Making us crave thy cloudy state no less - Than the sweet clarity of thy rain-wash'd air, - Meadows in moonlight cool, and every fair - Slow-fading flower of thy summer dress: - Not for thy flowers, but for the unfading crown - Of sacrifice our happy brothers wove thee: - The joyous ones who laid thy beauty down - Nor stayed to see it shamed. For these we love thee, - For this (O love, O dread!) we hold thee more - Divinely fair to-day than heretofore. - - - - -A FAREWELL TO AFRICA - -,, vspace:: 2 - - Now once again, upon the pole-star's bearing, - We plough these furrowed fields where no blade springeth; - Again the busy trade in the halyards singeth - Sun-whitened spindrift from the blown wave shearing; - The uncomplaining sea suffers our faring; - In a brazen glitter our little wake is lost, - And the starry south rolls over until no ghost - Remaineth of us and all our pitiful daring; - For the sea beareth no trace of man's endeavour, - His might enarmoured, his prosperous argosies, - Soundless, within her unsounded caves, forever - She broodeth, knowing neither war nor peace, - And our grey cruisers holds in mind no more - Than the cedarn fleets that Sheba's treasure bore. - - - - -SONG - - - What is the worth of war - In a world that turneth, turneth - About a tired star - Whose flaming centre burneth - No longer than the space - Of the spent atom's race: - Where conquered lands, soon, soon - Lie waste as the pale moon? - - What is the worth of art - In a world that fast forgetteth - Those who have wrung its heart - With beauty that love begetteth, - Whose faint flames vanish quite - In that star-powdered night - Where even the mighty ones - Shine only as far suns? - - And what is beauty worth, - Sweet beauty, that persuadeth - Of her immortal birth, - Then, as a flower, fadeth: - Or love, whose tender years - End with the mourner's tears, - Die, when the mourner's breath - Is quiet, at last, in death? - - Beauty and love are one, - Even when fierce war clashes: - Even when our fiery sun - Hath burnt itself to ashes, - And the dead planets race - Unlighted through blind space, - Beauty will still shine there: - Wherefore, I worship her. - - - - -THE HAWTHORN SPRAY - - - I saw a thrush light on a hawthorn spray, - One moment only, spilling creamy blossom, - While the bough bent beneath her speckled bosom, - Bent, and recovered, and she fluttered away. - - The branch was still; but, in my heart, a pain - Than the thorn'd spray more cruel, stabbed me, only - Remembering days in a far land and lonely - When I had never hoped for summer again. - - - - -THE PAVEMENT - - - In bitter London's heart of stone, - Under the lamplight's shielded glare. - I saw a soldier's body thrown - Unto the drabs that traffic there - - Pacing the pavements with slow feet: - Those old pavements whose blown dust - Throttles the hot air of the street, - And the darkness smells of lust. - - The chaste moon, with equal glance, - Looked down on the mad world, astare - At those who conquered in sad France - And those who perished in Leicester Square. - - And in her light his lips were pale: - Lips that love had moulded well: - Out of the jaws of Passchendaele - They had sent him to this nether hell. - - I had no stone of scorn to fling, - For I know not how the wrong began-- - But I had seen a hateful thing - Masked in the dignity of man: - - And hate and sorrow and hopeless anger - Swept my heart, as the winds that sweep - Angrily through the leafless hanger - When winter rises from the deep.... - - * * * * * - - I would that war were what men dream: - A crackling fire, a cleansing flame, - That it might leap the space between - And lap up London and its shame. - - - - -To LYDIA LOPOKOVA - - -HER GARLAND - - - O thou who comest to our wintry shade - Gay and light-footed as the virgin Spring, - Before whose shining feet the cherries fling - Their moony tribute, when the sloe is sprayed - With light, and all things musical are made: - O thou who art Spring's daughter, who can bring - Blossom, or song of bird, or anything - To match the youth in which you stand arrayed? - Not that rich garland Meleager twined - In his sun-guarded glade above the blue - That flashes from the burning Tyrian seas: - No, you are cooler, sweeter than the wind - That wakes our woodlands; so I bring to you - These wind-blown blossoms of anemones. - - - -HER VARIETY - - - Soft as a pale moth flitting in moonshine - I saw thee flutter to the shadowy call - That beckons from the strings of Carneval, - O frail and fragrant image of Columbine: - So, when the spectre of the rose was thine, - A flower wert thou, and last I saw thee fall - In Cleopatra's stormy bacchanal - Flown with the red insurgence of the vine. - O moth, O flower, O mnad, which art thou? - Shadowy, beautiful, or leaping wild - As stormlight over savage Tartar skies? - Such were my ancient questionings; but now - I know that you are nothing but a child - With a red flower's mouth and hazel eyes. - - - -HER SWIFTNESS - - - You are too swift for poetry, too fleet - For any musd numbers to ensnare: - Swifter than music dying on the air - Or bloom upon rose-petals, fades the sweet - Vanishing magic of your flying feet, - Your poisd finger, and your shining hair: - Words cannot tell how wonderful you were, - Or how one gesture made a joy complete. - And since you know my pen may never capture - The transient swift loveliness of you, - Come, let us salve our sense of the world's loss - Remembering, with a melancholy rapture, - How many dancing-girls ... and poets too... - Dream in the dust of Hecatompylos. - - - - -GHOSTLY LOVES - - - 'Oh why,' my darling prayeth me, 'must you sing - For ever of ghostly loves, phantasmal passion? - Seeing that you never loved me after that fashion - And the love I gave was not a phantom thing, - But delight of eager lips and strong arms folding - The beauty of yielding arms and of smooth shoulder, - All fluent grace of which you were the moulder: - And I.... Oh, I was happy for your holding.' - 'Ah, do you not know, my dearest, have you not seen - The shadow that broodeth over things that perish: - How age may mock sweet moments that have been - And death defile the beauty that we cherish? - Wherefore, sweet spirit, I thank thee for thy giving: - 'Tis my spirit that embraceth thee dead or living.' - - - - -FEBRUARY - - - The robin on my lawn, - He was the first to tell - How, in the frozen dawn, - This miracle befell, - Waking the meadows white - With hoar, the iron road - Agleam with splintered light, - And ice where water flowed: - Till, when the low sun drank - Those milky mists that cloak - Hanger and hollied bank, - The winter world awoke - To hear the feeble bleat - Of lambs on downland farms: - A blackbird whistled sweet; - Old beeches moved their arms - Into a mellow haze - Aerial, newly-born: - And I, alone, agaze, - Stood waiting for the thorn - To break in blossom white - Or burst in a green flame... - So, in a single night, - Fair February came, - Bidding my lips to sing - Or whisper their surprise, - With all the joy of spring - And morning in her eyes. - - - - -SONG OF THE DARK AGES - - - We digged our trenches on the down - Beside old barrows, and the wet - White chalk we shovelled from below; - It lay like drifts of thawing snow - On parados and parapet: - - Until a pick neither struck flint - Nor split the yielding chalky soil, - But only calcined human bone: - Poor relic of that Age of Stone - Whose ossuary was our spoil. - - Home we marched singing in the rain, - And all the while, beneath our song, - I mused how many springs should wane - And still our trenches scar the plain: - The monument of an old wrong. - - But then, I thought, the fair green sod - Will wholly cover that white stain, - And soften, as it clothes the face - Of those old barrows, every trace - Of violence to the patient plain. - - And careless people, passing by, - Will speak of both in casual tone: - Saying: 'You see the toil they made: - The age of iron, pick, and spade, - Here jostles with the Age of Stone.' - - Yet either from that happier race - Will merit but a passing glance; - And they will leave us both alone: - Poor savages who wrought in stone-- - Poor savages who fought in France. - - - - -WINTER SUNSET - - - Athwart the blackening bars of pines benighted, - The sun, descending to the zones of denser - Cloud that o'erhung the long horizon, lighted - Upon the crown of earth a flaming censer - From which white clouds of incense, overflowing, - Filled the chill clarity from whence the swallows - Had lately fled with wreathd vapours, showing - Like a fine bloom over the lonely fallows: - Where, with the pungent breath of mist was blended - A faint aroma of pine-needles sodden - By autumn rains, and fainter still, ascended - Beneath high woods the scent of leaves downtrodden. - It was a moment when the earth, that sickened - For Spring, as lover when the beloved lingers, - Lay breathless, while the distant goddess quickened - Some southern hill-side with her glowing fingers: - And so, it seemed, the drowsy lands were shaken, - Stirred in their sleep, and sighed, as though the pain - Of a strange dream had bidden them awaken - To frozen days and bitter nights again. - - - - -SONG - - - Why have you stolen my delight - In all the golden shows of Spring - When every cherry-tree is white - And in the limes the thrushes sing, - - O fickler than the April day, - O brighter than the golden broom, - O blyther than the thrushes' lay, - O whiter than the cherry-bloom, - - O sweeter than all things that blow ... - Why have you only left for me - The broom, the cherry's crown of snow, - And thrushes in the linden-tree? - - - - -ENGLAND--APRIL, 1918 - - - Last night the North flew at the throat of Spring - With spite to tear her greening banners down, - Tossing the elm-tree's tender tassels brown, - The virgin blossom of sloe burdening - With colder snow; beneath his frosty sting - Patient, the newly-wakened woods were bowed - By drownd fields where stormy waters flowed: - Yet, on the thorn, I heard a blackbird sing.... - 'Too late, too late,' he sang, 'this wintry spite; - For molten snow will feed the springing grass: - The tide of life, it floweth with the year.' - O England, England, thou that standest upright - Against the tide of death, the bad days pass: - Know, by this miracle, that summer is near. - - - - -SLENDER THEMES - - - When, by a happier race, these leaves are turned, - They'll wonder that such quiet themes engaged - A soldier's mind when noisy wars were waged, - And half the world in one red bonfire burned. - 'When that fierce age,' they'll say, 'went up in flame - He lived ... or died, seeing those bright deeds done - Whereby our sweet and settled peace was won, - Yet offereth slender dreams, not deeds, to Fame.' - Then say: 'Out of the heart the mouth speaketh, - And mine was as the hearts of other men - Whom those dark days impassioned; yet it seeketh - To paint the sombre woes that held us then, - No more than the cloud-rending levin's light - Seeks to illumine the sad skies of night.' - - - - -INVOCATION - - - Whither, O, my sweet mistress, must I follow thee? - For when I hear thy distant footfall nearing, - And wait on thy appearing, - Lo! my lips are silent: no words come to me. - - Once I waylaid thee in green forest covers, - Hoping that spring might free my lips with gentle fingers; - Alas! her presence lingers - No longer than on the plain the shadow of brown kestrel hovers. - - Through windless ways of the night my spirit followed after;-- - Cold and remote were they, and there, possessed - By a strange unworldly rest, - Awaiting thy still voice heard only starry laughter. - - The pillared halls of sleep echoed my ghostly tread. - Yet when their secret chambers I essayed - My spirit sank, dismayed, - Waking in fear to find the new-born vision fled. - - Once indeed--but then my spirit bloomed in leafy rapture-- - I loved; and once I looked death in the eyes: - So, suddenly made wise, - Spoke of such beauty as I may never recapture.... - - Whither, O, divine mistress, must I then follow thee? - Is it only in love ... say, is it only in death - That the spirit blossometh, - And words that may match my vision shall come to me? - - - - -THAMAR - - -(_To Thamar Karsavina_) - -Once in the sombre light of the throng'd courts of night, -In a dream-haunted land only inhabited -By the unhappy dead, came one who, anxious eyed, -Clung to my idle hand with clenched fingers weak -And gazed into my eyes as he had wrongs to speak. -Silent he stood and wan, more pallid than the leaves -Of an aspen blown under a wind that grieves. -Then I: 'O haggard one, say from what ghostly zone -Of thwarted destinies or torment hast thou come? -Tell me thy race and name!' And he, with veiled face: -'I have neither name nor race, but I have travelled far, -A timeless avatar of never-ending dooms, -Out of those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star -In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar... -Once in a lonely dawn my eager spirit fared -By ways that no men dared unto a desert land, -Where, on a sullen strand, a mouldering city, vast -As towered Babylon, stood in the dreamy sand-- -Older a million years: Babel was builded on -That broken city's tears; dust of her crumbled past -Rose from the rapid wheels of Babel's charioteers -In whorled clouds above those shining thoroughfares -Where Babel's millions tread on her unheeding dead. -Forth from an eastern gate where the lips of Asia wait -Parch'd with an ancient thirst that no ons can abate, -Passed I, predestinate, to a thorn'd desert's drought, -Where the rivers of the south, flowing in a cloudy spate, -Spend at last their splendid strength in a sea of molten glass -Seething with the brazen might of a white sun dipped at length -Like a baked stone, burning hot, plunged in a hissing pot. -Out of that solemn portal over the tawny waste, -Without stay, without haste, nor the joy of any mortal -Glance of eye or clasp of hand, desolate, in a burning land, -Lonely days and nights I travelled and the changing seasons squandered -Friendless, endlessly, I wandered nor my woven fate unravelled; -Drawn to a hidden goal, sore, forlorn with waiting, -Seeking I knew not what, yet unhesitating -Struggled my hapless soul... - There, in a thousand springs, -Slow, beneath frozen snow, where the blind earth lay cringing, -Have I seen the steppe unfold uncounted blossomings, -Where salty pools shone fair in a quivering blue air -That shivered every fringing reed-bed with cool delight, -And fanned the mazy flight of slow-wing'd egrets white -Beating and wheeling bright against the sun astare; -But I could not hear their wings for they were ghostly things -Sent by the powers of night to mock my sufferings -And rain upon the bitter waterpools their drops aglitter. -Yet, when these lakes accursed tortured my aching thirst, -The green reeds fell to dust, the cool pools to a crust -Of frozen salt crystallised to taunt my broken lips, -To cheat my staring eyes, as a vision of great ships -With moving towers of sail, poops throng'd with grinning crowds -And a wind in their shrouds, bears down upon the pale -Wasted castaway afloat with the salt in his throat -And a feeble wild desire to be quenched of his fire -In the green gloom beneath. - So, again and again, -Hath a phantom city thrust to the visionary vault -Of inviolate cobalt, dome and dreaming minaret -Mosque and gleaming water-tower hazy in a fountain's jet -Or a market's rising dust; and my lips have cried aloud -To see them tremble there, though I knew within my heart -They were chiselled out of cloud or carven of thin air; -And my fingers clenched my hand, for I wondered if this land -Of my stony pilgrimage were a glimmering mirage, -And I myself no more than a phantom of the sand. - 'But beyond these fading slender cities, many leagues away, -Strange brooding mountains lay heaped, crowding range on range -In a changing cloudy splendour; and beyond, in lakes of light, -As eastward still I staggered, there swam into my sight, -More vast and hoar and haggard, shoulders of ice and snow -Bounding the heavens low of burnished brass, whereunder -The hot plains of Cathay perpetually slumber: -Where tawny millions breed in cities without number, -Whither, a hill-born thunder, rolling on Tartary -With torrents and barb'd lightning, swelleth the yellow river -To a tumult of whitening foam and confusd might -That drowns in a single night many a mud-made city; -And cities of boats, and frail cities of lath and reed, -Are whirled away without pity or set afloat in a pale, -Swirling, shallow sea ... and their names seem lost for ever -Till a stranger nomad race drive their herds to the sad place -Where old sorrows lie forgotten, and raise upon the rotten -Level waste another brood to await another flood. - 'But I never might attain to this melancholy plain -For the mountains rose between; stark in my path they lay -Between me and Cathay, through moving mist half-seen. -And I knew that they were real, for their drooping folds of cloud -Enwrapped me in a shroud, and the air that fell at night -From their frozen summits white slid like an ice-blue steel -Into my living breast and stilled the heart within -As the chill of an old sin that robs a man of rest, -Killing all delight in the silence of the night -And brooding black above till the heart dare not move -But lieth cold and numb ... and the dawn will not come. - 'Yet to me a dawn came, new-kindled in cold flame, -Flinging the imminence of those inviolate snows -On the forest lawns below in a shadow more immense -Than their eternal vastness; and a new hope beyond reason, -Flamed in my heart's dark season, dazzled my pallid eyes, -Till, when the hot sun soared above the uttermost height, -A draught of keen delight into my body was poured, -For all that frozen fastness lay flowered with the spring: -Her starry blossoms broke beneath my bruisd feet, -And their beauty was so sweet to me I kissed them where they lay; -Yea, I bent my weary hips and kissed them with dry lips, -Tenderly, only dreading lest their petals delicate -Should be broken by my treading, for I lived, I lived again, -And my heart would have been broken by a living creature's pain, -So I kissed them for a token of my joy in their new birth, -And I kissed the gentle earth. Slowly the shadows crept -To the bases of the crags, and I slept.... - 'Once, in another life, had I remembered sleep, -When tired children creep on to their mother's knees, -And there a dreamless peace more quietly descendeth -Than gentle evening endeth or ring-doves fold their wings, -Before the nightjar spins or the nightingale begins; -When the brooding hedgerow trees where they nest lie awake -And breathe so soft they shake not a single shuddering leaf -Lest the silence should break. - 'Other sleep have I known, -Deeper, beyond belief, when straining limbs relax -After hot human toil in yellow harvest fields -Where the panting earth yields a smell of baked soil, -And the dust of dry stubbles blows over the whitening -Shocks of lank grain and bundles of flax, -And men fling themselves down forgetting their troubles, -Unheedful of the song that the landrail weaves along -Misty woodlands, or lightning that the pale sky laves -Like phosphorescent waves washing summer seas: -And, more beautiful than these, that sleep of dazd wonder -When love has torn asunder the veils of the sky -And raptured lovers lie faint in each other's arms -Beneath a heaven strewn with myriad starry swarms, -Where planets float like lonely gold-flowered nenuphars -In pools of the sky; yet, when they wake, they turn -From those burning galaxies seeking heaven only -In each other's eyes, and sigh, and sleep again; -For while they sleep they seem to forget the world's pain, -And when they wake, they dream.... - 'But other sleep was mine -As I had drunk of wine with bitter hemlock steep'd, -Or sousd with the heapd milky poppyheads -A drowsy Tartar treads where slow waters sweep -Over red river beds, and the air is heavy with sleep. -So, when I woke at last, the labouring earth had rolled -Eastward under the vast dominion of night, -Funereal, forlorn as that unlighted chamber -Wherein she first was born, bereft of all starlight, -Pale silver of the moon, or the low sun's amber. - 'Then to my queen I prayed, grave Ashtoreth, whose shade -Hallows the dim abyss of Heliopolis, -Where many an olive maid clashed kissing Syrian cymbals, -And silver-sounding timbrels shivered through the vale. -O lovely, and O white, under the holy night -Is their gleaming wonder, and their brows are pale -As the new risen moon, dancing till they swoon -In far forests under desolate Lebanon, -While the flame of Moloch's pyre reddens the sea-born cloud -That overshadows Tyre; so, when I cried aloud, -Behold, a torch of fire leapt on the mountain-side! - 'O bright, O beautiful! for never kindlier light -Fell on the darkened sight of mortal eyes and dull -Since that devoted one, whom gloomy Caucasus -In icy silence lonely bound to his cruel shoulders, -Brought to benighted men in a hollow fennel-stem -Sparks of the torrid vapour that burned behind the bars -Of evening, broke dawn's rose, or smouldered in the stars, -Or lit the glowworm's taper, or wavered over the fen, -Or tipped the javelin of the far-ravening levin, -Lash of the Lord of Heaven and bitter scourge of sin. -O beautiful, O bright! my tired sinews strained -To this torch that flared and waned as a watery planet gloweth -And waneth in the night when a calm sea floweth -Under a misty sky spread with the tattered veils -Of rapid cloud driven over the deeps of heaven -By winds that range too high to sweep the languid sails. -On through the frozen night, like a blind moth flying -With battered wing and bruisd bloom into a light, -I dragged my ragged limbs, cared not if I were dying, -Knew not if I were dead, where cavernous crevasses, -And stony desperate passes snared, waylaid my tread: -In the roar of broken boulders split from rocky shoulders, -In the thunder of snow sliding, or under the appalling -Rending of glacier ice or hoarse cataracts falling: -And I knew not what could save me but the unholy guiding -That some demon gave me. Thrice I fell, and thrice -In torrents of blue ice-water slipp'd and was toss'd -Like a dead leaf, or a ghost -Harried by thin bufferings of wind -Downward to Tartarus at daybreak, -Downward to the regions of the lost.... -But the rushing waters ceased, and the bitter wind fell: -How I cannot tell, unless that I had come -To the hollow heart of the storm where the wind is dumb; -And there my gelid blood thawed, glowed, and grew warm, -While a black-hooded form caught at my arm, and stayed -And held me as I swayed, until, at last, I saw -In a strange unworldly awe, at the gate of light I stood: -And I entered, alone.... - 'Behold a cavern of stone carven, and in the midst -A brazier that hissed with tongued flames, leaping -Over whitened embers of gummy frankincense, -Into a fume of dense and fragrant vapour, creeping -Over the roof to spread a milky coverlet -Softer than the woof of webby spider's net. -But never spider yet spun a more delicate wonder -Than that which hung thereunder, drooping fold on fold, -Silks that glowed with fire of tawny Oxus gold, -Richer than ever flowed from the eager fancy of man -In his vain desire for beauty that endures: -And on the floor were spread by many a heaped daiwan -Carpets of Kurdistan, cured skins, and water-ewers -Encrusted with such gems as emperors of Hind -(Swart conquerors, long dead) sought for their diadems. - -No other light was there but one torch, flaring -Against a square of sky possess'd by the wind, -And never another sound but the tongued flames creeping. - 'At last, my eyes staring into the clouded gloom, -Saw that the caverned room with shadowy forms was strewn -In heavy sleep or swoon fallen, who did not move -But lay as mortals lie in the sweet release of love. -And stark between them stood huge eunuchs of ebony, -Mute, motionless, as they had been carven of black wood. -But these I scarcely saw, for, through the flame was seen -Another, a queen, with heavy closd eyes -White against the skies of that empurpled night -In her loveliness she lay, and leaned upon her hand: -And my blood leapt at the sight, so that I could not stand -But fell upon my knees, pleading, and cried aloud -For her white loveliness as Ixion for his cloud: -And my cry the silence broke, and the sleepers awoke -From their slumber, stirred, and rose every one,--save those -Mute eunuchs of ebony, those frowning caryatides. -Slowly she looked at me, and when I cried again -In yearning and in pain, she beckoned with her hand. -Then from my knees rose I, and greatly daring, -Through the hazy air, past the brazier flaring -And the hissing flame, crept, until I came -Unto the carven seat, and kissed her white feet; -And she smiled, but spake not. -When she smiled the sleepers wavered as the grass -Of a cornfield wavers when the ears are swept -By the breath of brown reapers singing as they pass, -Or grass of woody glades when a wind that has slept -Wakens, and invades their moonlit solitude, -When the hazels shiver and the birch is blown -To a billow of silver, but oaks in the wood -Stand firm nor quiver, stand firm as stone: -So, amid the sleepers, the black eunuchs stood. -When the sleepers stirred faintly in the heat -Of that painted room a silken sound I heard, -And a thin music, sweet as the brown nightingale -Sings in the jealous shade of a lonely spinney, -Stranger far than any music mortal made -Fell softer than the dew falleth when stars are pale. -Sweet it was, and clear as light, or as the tears -That sad Narcissus wears in the spring of the year -On barren mountain ranges where rain falls cool -And every lonely pool is sprayed with broken light: -So cool, so beautiful, and so divinely strange -I doubted if it came from any marshy reed -Or hollow fluting stem pluck'd by the hands of men, -Unless it were indeed that airy fugitive -Syrinx, who cried and ran before the laughing eyes -Of goat-footed Pan, and must for ever live -A shadowy green reed by an Arcadian river-- -But never music made of Ladon's reedy daughter -Or singing river-water more sweet than that which stole, -Slow as amber honey wells from the honeycomb, -Into my weary soul with solace and strange peace. -So, trembling as I lay in a dream more desolate -Than is the darkened day of the mid-winter north, -I heard the voice of one who sang in a strange tongue, -And I know not what he sang save that he sang of love, -The while they led me forth unheeding, till we came -Unto a chamber lit with one slow-burning flame -That yellow horn bedims, and laid me down, and there -They soothed my bruised limbs, and combed my tangled hair, -And salved my limbs with rarely-mingled unguents pressed -By hands of holy ones who dream beneath the suns -Of Araby the Blest, and so, when they had bathed -My burning eyes with milk of dreamy anodyne -And cool'd my throat with wine, -In robings of cool silk my broken body they swathed, -Sandals of gold they placed upon my feet, and round -My sad sun-blistered brows a silver fillet bound-- -Decking me with the pride of a bridegroom that goes -To the joy of his bride and is lovely in her eyes-- -And led me to her side. Then, as a conquering prince, -I, who long since had been battered and tost -Like a dead leaf or ghost buffeted by wild storms, -Came to her white arms, conquering, and was lost, -Yet dared not gaze upon the beauty that I dreamed. -So, in my trance, it seemed that a shadowy soft dance -Coiled slowly and unwound, swayed, beckoned, and recovered -As hooded cobra bound by hollow spells of sound -Unto the piper sways; so silently they hovered -I only heard the beat of their naked feet, -And then, another sound.... -A dull throb thrumming, a noise of faint drumming, -Threatening, coming nearer, piercing deeper -Than a dream lost in the heart of a sleeper -Into those deeps where the dark fire gloweth, -The secret flame that every man knoweth, -Embers that smoulder, fires that none can fan, -Terrible, older than the mind of man.... -Before he crawled from his swamp and spurned -The life of the beast that dark fire burned -In the hidden deeps where no dream can come: -Only the throbbing of a drum -Can wake it from its smouldering-- -Sightless, soundless, senseless, dumb-- -Dumb as those blind seeds that lie -Drown'd in mud, and shuddering, -I knew that I was man no more, -But a throbbing core of flesh, that knew -Nor beauty, nor truth, nor anything -But the black sky and the slimy earth: -Roots of trees, and fear, and pain, -The blank of death, the pangs of birth, -An inhuman thing possess'd -By the throbbing of a drum: -And my lips were strange and numb, -But they kissed her white breast.... -Then, being drunk with pride and splendour of love, I cried: -'"O spring of all delight, O moond mystery, -O living marvel, white as the dead queen of night, -O flower, and O flame ... tell me at least thy name -That, from this desolate height, I may proclaim its wonder -To the lost lands hereunder before thy beauty dies -As fades the fire of dawn upon a peak of snow!"' -Then: "Look," she sighed, "into my eyes, and thou shalt know." -So, with her fingers frail, she pressed my brows, and so, -Slowly, at last, she raised my drooping eyelids pale, -And in her eyes I gazed. - 'Then fear, than love more blind, -Caught at my heart and fast in chains of horror bound-- -As one who in profound and midnight forest ways -Sees in the dark the burning eyes of a tiger barred -Or stealthy footed pard blaze in a solemn hate -And lust of human blood, yet cannot cry, nor turning -Flee from the huddled wood, but stands and sees his fate, -Or one who in a black night, groping for his track, -Clings to the dizzy verge of a cragged precipice, -Shrinks from the dim abyss, yet dare not venture back, -And no sound hears but the hiss of empty air -Swirling past his ears.... So, in a hideous -Abandonment of hope, I waited for her kiss. -Then the restless beat of the muttering drum -Rose to a frenzied heat; the naked dancers leapt -Insolent through the flame, laughing as they came -With parted lips; their cries deadened my ears, my eyes -Throbbed with the pattering of their rapid feet, -And the whirling dust of their dancing swept -Into my throat unslaked, dry-parchd with love's drought, -Until my mouth was pressed upon her burning mouth -In a kiss most terrible.... Oh, was it pride, or shame -Unending, without name, or ecstasy, or pain -Or desperate desire? Alas! I cannot tell, -Save that it pierced my trembling soul and body with fire. -For, while her soft lips clove to mine in love, she drove -A flaming blade of steel into my breast, and I, -Rent with a bitter cry, slid from her side and fell -Clutching in dumb despair the dark unbraided hair -My passion had despoiled; while she, like serpent coiled, -Poised for another stroke, terribly, slowly, smiled, -Saying: "O stranger, red, red are my lips, and sweet -Unto those lips so red are the kisses of the dead: -Far hast thou wandered, far, for the kisses of Thamar." -Then a deep silence fell on the frenzy and the laughter; -The leaping dancers crept to the shadows where they had slept, -And the mute eunuchs stood forth, and hugely bent -Above my body, spent in its pool of blood, -And hove me with black arms, while the queen followed after -With stealthy steps, and eyes that burned into the night -Of my dying brain, till, with her hand, she bade -Them falter, and they stayed, while, eagerly, she propped -My listless head that dropped downward from my shoulders, -And slowly raised it up, raised it like a cup -Unto her lips again, -Then shuddered, trembled, shrunk, as though her mouth had drunk -A potion where the fell fire of poison smoulders. -And a darkness came, and I could see no more, -But in my ears the roar of lonely torrents swelled -And stilled my breath for ever, as though a wave appalling -Had broken in my brain, and deep to deep were calling: -And I felt my body falling down and down and down -Into a blank of death, where dumb waters roll -Endlessly, only knowing, that her dagger had stabbed my breast, -But her kiss had killed my soul. -And now I know no rest until again I stand -Where that lost city's towers rise from the dreamy sand, -Until I reach the gate where the lips of Asia wait, -Till I cross the desert's drought, and the rivers of the south, -And shiver through the night under those summits white -That soar above Cathay; until I see the light -Flame from those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star -In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar.' - - - - -ENVOI - - - Now that the hour has come, and under the lonely - Darkness I stumble at the doors of death, - It is not hope, nor faith - That here my spirit sustaineth, but love only. - - In visions, in love: only there have I clutched at divinity: - But the vision fadeth; yet love fades not: and for this - I would have you know that your kiss - Was more to me than all my hopes of infinity. - - Therein you made me divine ... you, who were moon and sun for - me, - You, for whose beauty I would have forsaken the splendour of - the stars - And my shadowy avatars - Renounced: for there is nothing in the world you have not done - for me. - - So that when at length all sentient skill hath forsaken me, - And the bright world beats vainly on my consciousness, - Your beauty shineth no less: - And even if I were dead I think your shadow would awaken me. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40344 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. 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width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> + <div class="caption figure"> + Cover + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <div class="align-None center container titlepage white-space-pre-line"> + <p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line x-large">POEMS</p> + <p class="large pnext white-space-pre-line">1916-1918</p> + <div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">BY</p> + <p class="large pnext white-space-pre-line">FRANCIS BRETT YOUNG</p> + <div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">LONDON: 48 PALL MALL<br /> + W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD.<br /> + GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND</p> + <div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"></div> + </div> + <div class="align-None center container verso white-space-pre-line"> + <p class="center pfirst small white-space-pre-line">Copyright 1919</p> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div> + <p class="center medium pfirst">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> + <p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Novels:</em></p> + <p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line">THE YOUNG PHYSICIAN<br /> + THE CRESCENT MOON<br /> + THE IRON AGE<br /> + THE DARK TOWER<br /> + DEEP SEA<br /> + UNDERGROWTH (with E. Brett Young)</p> + <div class="left medium vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <p class="left medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Poems:</em></p> + <p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line">FIVE DEGREES SOUTH</p> + <div class="left medium vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <p class="left medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Belles Lettres:</em></p> + <p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line">ROBERT BRIDGES: A Critical Study<br /> + MARCHING ON TANGA</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <div class="align-None container dedication white-space-pre-line"> + <p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">TO<br /> + EDYTH GOODALL</p> + <div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="left medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Remember thus our sweet conspiracy:<br /> + That I, having dreamed a lovely thing, with dull<br /> + Words marred it--and you gave it back to me<br /> + A thousand, thousand times more beautiful.</em></p> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center medium pfirst">ERRATA</p> + <p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line">Page 26, line 17, <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">for</em> "Lybian" <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">read</em> "Libyan."<br /> + Page 46, line 9, <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">for</em> "lythe" <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">read</em> "lithe."<br /> + Page 70, line 13, <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">for</em> "tyrranous" <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">read</em> "tyrannous."</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="left medium pfirst">[Transcriber's note: the above errata have been applied to this etext. The word "Lybia" was also on page 32, and was corrected as above. Similarly, "tyrranous" was also on page 86, and was corrected.]</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center large pfirst">CONTENTS</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="left medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#prothalamion">PROTHALAMION</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#testament">TESTAMENT</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#lochanilaun">LOCHANILAUN</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#lettermore">LETTERMORE</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#lament">LAMENT</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-lemon-tree">THE LEMON-TREE</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#phthonos">PHTHONOS</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#easter">EASTER</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-leaning-elm">THE LEANING ELM</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-joyous-lover">THE JOYOUS LOVER</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#dead-poets">DEAD POETS</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#porton-water">PORTON WATER</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#an-old-house">AN OLD HOUSE</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-dhows">THE DHOWS</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-gift">THE GIFT</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#five-degrees-south">FIVE DEGREES SOUTH</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#fahrenheit">104° FAHRENHEIT</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#fever-trees">FEVER-TREES</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-rain-bird">THE RAIN-BIRD</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#moths">MOTHS</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#bete-humaine">BÊTE HUMAINE</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#doves">DOVES</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#song-i">SONG (i)</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#before-action">BEFORE ACTION</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#on-a-subaltern-killed-in-action">ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#after-action">AFTER ACTION</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#sonnet">SONNET</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#a-farewell-to-africa">A FAREWELL TO AFRICA</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#song-ii">SONG (ii)</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-hawthorn-spray">THE HAWTHORN SPRAY</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-pavement">THE PAVEMENT</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#to-lydia-lopokova-i">TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (i)</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#to-lydia-lopokova-ii">TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (ii)</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#to-lydia-lopokova-iii">TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (iii)</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#ghostly-loves">GHOSTLY LOVES</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#february">FEBRUARY</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#song-of-the-dark-ages">SONG OF THE DARK AGES</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#winter-sunset">WINTER SUNSET</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#song-iii">SONG (iii)</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#england-april-1918">ENGLAND, APRIL 1918</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#slender-themes">SLENDER THEMES</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#invocation">INVOCATION</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#thamar">THAMAR</a><br /> + <a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#envoi">ENVOI</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="prothalamion">PROTHALAMION</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + When the evening came my love said to me: + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Let us go into the garden now that the sky is cool, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + The garden of black hellebore and rosemary, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Where wild woodruff spills in a milky pool. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Low we passed in the twilight, for the wavering heat + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Of day had waned, and round that shaded plot + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of secret beauty the thickets clustered sweet: + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Here is heaven, our hearts whispered, but our lips spake not. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Between that old garden and seas of lazy foam + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Gloomy and beautiful alleys of trees arise + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + With spire of cypress and dreamy beechen dome, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + So dark that our enchanted sight knew nothing but the skies + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Veiled with soft air, drench'd in the roses' musk + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Or the dusky, dark carnation's breath of clove; + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + No stars burned in their deeps, but through the dusk + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + I saw my love's eyes, and they were brimmed with love. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + No star their secret ravished, no wasting moon + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Mocked the sad transience of those eternal hours: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Only the soft, unseeing heaven of June, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The ghosts of great trees, and the sleeping flowers. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + For doves that crooned in the leafy noonday now + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Were silent; the night-jar sought his secret covers, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor even a mild sea-whisper moved a creaking bough-- + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Was ever a silence deeper made for lovers? + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Was ever a moment meeter made for love? + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Beautiful are your closed lips beneath my kiss; + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And all your yielding sweetness beautiful-- + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Oh, never in all the world was such a night as this! + </div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="testament">TESTAMENT</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + If I had died, and never seen the dawn + </div> + <div class="line"> + For which I hardly hoped, lighting this lawn + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of silvery grasses; if there had been no light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And last night merged into perpetual night; + </div> + <div class="line"> + I doubt if I should ever have been content + </div> + <div class="line"> + To have closed my eyes without some testament + </div> + <div class="line"> + To the great benefits that marked my faring + </div> + <div class="line"> + Through the sweet world; for all my joy was sharing + </div> + <div class="line"> + And lonely pleasures were few. Unto which end + </div> + <div class="line"> + Three legacies I'll send, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Three legacies, already half possess'd: + </div> + <div class="line"> + One to a friend, of all good friends the best, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Better than which is nothing; yet another + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unto thy twin, dissimilar spirit, Brother; + </div> + <div class="line"> + The third to you, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Most beautiful, most true, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Most perfect one, to whom they all are due. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Quick, quick ... while there is time.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + O best of friends, I leave you one sublime + </div> + <div class="line"> + Summer, one fadeless summer. 'Twas begun + </div> + <div class="line"> + Ere Cotswold hawthorn tarnished in the sun, + </div> + <div class="line"> + When hedges were fledged with green, and early swallows + </div> + <div class="line"> + Swift-darting, on curved wings, pillaged the fallows; + </div> + <div class="line"> + When all our vale was dappled blossom and light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And oh, the scent of beanfields in the night! + </div> + <div class="line"> + You shall remember that rich dust at even + </div> + <div class="line"> + Which made old Evesham like a street in heaven, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Gold-paved, and washed within a wave of golden + </div> + <div class="line"> + Air all her dreamy towers and gables olden. + </div> + <div class="line"> + You shall remember + </div> + <div class="line"> + How arms sun-blistered, hot palms crack'd with rowing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Clove the cool water of Avon, sweetly flowing; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And how our bodies, beautifully white, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Stretch'd to a long stroke lengthened in green light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And we, emerging, laughed in childish wise, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And pressed the kissing water from our eyes. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Ah, was our laughter childish, or were we wise? + </div> + <div class="line"> + And then, crown of the day, a tired returning + </div> + <div class="line"> + With happy sunsets over Bredon burning, + </div> + <div class="line"> + With music and with moonlight, and good ale, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And no thought for the morrow.... Heavy phlox + </div> + <div class="line"> + Our garden pathways bordered, and evening stocks, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Those humble weeds, in sunlight withered and pale, + </div> + <div class="line"> + With a night scent to match the nightingale, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Gladdened with spicèd sweetness sweet night's shadows, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Meeting the breath of hay from mowing meadows: + </div> + <div class="line"> + As humble was our joy, and as intense + </div> + <div class="line"> + Our rapture. So, before I hurry hence, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yours be the memory. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + One night again, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + When we were men, and had striven, and known pain, + </div> + <div class="line"> + By a dark canal debating, unresigned, + </div> + <div class="line"> + On the blind fate that shadows humankind, + </div> + <div class="line"> + On the blind sword that severs human love... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then did the hidden belfry from above + </div> + <div class="line"> + On troubled minds in benediction shed + </div> + <div class="line"> + The patience of the great anonymous dead + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who reared those towers, those high cathedrals builded + </div> + <div class="line"> + In solemn stone, and with clear fancy gilded + </div> + <div class="line"> + A beauty beyond ours, trusting in God. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then dared we follow the dark way they trod, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And bowing to the universal plan + </div> + <div class="line"> + Trust in the true and fiery spirit of Man. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And you, my Brother, + </div> + <div class="line"> + You know, as knows one other, + </div> + <div class="line"> + How my spirit revisiteth a room + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a high wing, beneath pine-trees, where gloom + </div> + <div class="line"> + Dwelleth, dispelled by resinous wood embers, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where, in half-darkness ... How the heart remembers... + </div> + <div class="line"> + We talked of beauty, and those fiery things + </div> + <div class="line"> + To which the divine desirous spirit clings, + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a wing'd rapture to that heaven flinging, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where beauty is an easy thing, and singing + </div> + <div class="line"> + The natural speech of man. Like kissing swords + </div> + <div class="line"> + Our wits clashed there; the brittle beauty of words + </div> + <div class="line"> + Breaking, seemed to discover its secret heart + </div> + <div class="line"> + And all the rapt elusiveness of Art. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Now I have known sorrow, and now I sing + </div> + <div class="line"> + That a lovely word is not an idle thing; + </div> + <div class="line"> + For as with stars the cloth of night is spangled, + </div> + <div class="line"> + With star-like words, most lovelily entangled, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The woof of sombre thought is deckt.... Ah, bright + </div> + <div class="line"> + And cold they glitter in the spirit's night! + </div> + <div class="line"> + But neither distant nor dispassionate; + </div> + <div class="line"> + For beauty is an armour against fate.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + I tell you, who have stood in the dark alone. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Seeing the face that turneth all to stone, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Medusa, blind with hate, + </div> + <div class="line"> + While I was dying, Beauty sate with me + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor tortured any longer; gracious was she; + </div> + <div class="line"> + To her soft words I listened, and was content + </div> + <div class="line"> + To die, nor sorry that my light was spent. + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, Brother, if I come not home, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Go to that little room + </div> + <div class="line"> + That my spirit revisiteth, and there, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Somewhere in the blue air, you shall discover + </div> + <div class="line"> + If that you be a lover + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor haughtily minded, all that once half-shaped + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then fled us, and escaped: + </div> + <div class="line"> + All that I found that day, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Far, so far away. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And you, my lovely one, + </div> + <div class="line"> + What can I leave to you, who, you having left, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Am utterly bereft? + </div> + <div class="line"> + What in my store of visionary dowers + </div> + <div class="line"> + Is not already yours? + </div> + <div class="line"> + What silences, what hours + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of peace passing all understanding; days + </div> + <div class="line"> + Made lyric by your beauty and its praise; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Years neither time can tarnish, nor death mar, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wherein you shined as steadfast as a star + </div> + <div class="line"> + In my bleak night, heedless of the cloud-wrack + </div> + <div class="line"> + Scudding in torn fleeces black + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of my dark moods, as those who rule the far + </div> + <div class="line"> + Star-haunted pleasaunces of heaven are? + </div> + <div class="line"> + So think but lightly of that afternoon + </div> + <div class="line"> + With white clouds climbing a blue sky in June + </div> + <div class="line"> + When a boy worshipped under dreaming trees, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who touched your hand, and sought your eyes. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + ... Ah, cease, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Not these, not these... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor yet those nights when icy Brathay thundered + </div> + <div class="line"> + Under his bridges, and ghostly mountains wondered + </div> + <div class="line"> + At the white blossoming of a Christmas rose + </div> + <div class="line"> + More stainless than their snows; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor even of those placid days together + </div> + <div class="line"> + Mellow as early autumn's amber weather + </div> + <div class="line"> + When beech is ankleted with fire, and old + </div> + <div class="line"> + Elms wear their livery of yellow gold, + </div> + <div class="line"> + When orchards all are laden with increase, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the quiet earth hath fruited, and knows peace + </div> + <div class="line"> + Oh, think not overmuch on those sweet years + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lest their last fruit be tears,-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + Your tears, beloved, that were my utmost pain,-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + But rather, dream again + </div> + <div class="line"> + How that a lover, half poet and half child, + </div> + <div class="line"> + An eager spirit of fragile fancies wild + </div> + <div class="line"> + Compact, adored the beauty and truth in you: + </div> + <div class="line"> + To your own truth be true; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And when, not mournfully, you turn this page + </div> + <div class="line"> + Consider still your starry heritage, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Continue in your loveliness, a star + </div> + <div class="line"> + To gladden me from afar + </div> + <div class="line"> + Even where there is no light + </div> + <div class="line"> + In my last night. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="lochanilaun">LOCHANILAUN</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + This is the image of my last content: + </div> + <div class="line"> + My soul shall be a little lonely lake, + </div> + <div class="line"> + So hidden that no shadow of man may break + </div> + <div class="line"> + The folding of its mountain battlement; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Only the beautiful and innocent + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whiteness of sea-born cloud drooping to shake + </div> + <div class="line"> + Cool rain upon the reed-beds, or the wake + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of churn'd cloud in a howling wind's descent. + </div> + <div class="line"> + For there shall be no terror in the night + </div> + <div class="line"> + When stars that I have loved are born in me, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And cloudy darkness I will hold most fair; + </div> + <div class="line"> + But this shall be the end of my delight: + </div> + <div class="line"> + That you, my lovely one, may stoop and see + </div> + <div class="line"> + Your image in the mirrored beauty there. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="lettermore">LETTERMORE</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + These winter days on Lettermore + </div> + <div class="line"> + The brown west wind it sweeps the bay, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And icy rain beats on the bare + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unhomely fields that perish there: + </div> + <div class="line"> + The stony fields of Lettermore + </div> + <div class="line"> + That drink the white Atlantic spray. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And men who starve on Lettermore, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Cursing the haggard, hungry surf, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Will souse the autumn's bruisèd grains + </div> + <div class="line"> + To light dark fires within their brains + </div> + <div class="line"> + And fight with stones on Lettermore + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or sprawl beside the smoky turf. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + When spring blows over Lettermore + </div> + <div class="line"> + To bloom the ragged furze with gold, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The lovely south wind's living breath + </div> + <div class="line"> + Is laden with the smell of death: + </div> + <div class="line"> + For fever breeds on Lettermore + </div> + <div class="line"> + To waste the eyes of young and old. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + A black van comes to Lettermore; + </div> + <div class="line"> + The horses stumble on the stones, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The drivers curse,--for it is hard + </div> + <div class="line"> + To cross the hills from Oughterard + </div> + <div class="line"> + And cart the sick from Lettermore: + </div> + <div class="line"> + A stinking load of rags and bones. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + But you will go to Lettermore + </div> + <div class="line"> + When white sea-trout are on the run, + </div> + <div class="line"> + When purple glows between the rocks + </div> + <div class="line"> + About Lord Dudley's fishing-box + </div> + <div class="line"> + Adown the road to Lettermore, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And wide seas tarnish in the sun. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And so you'll think of Lettermore + </div> + <div class="line"> + As a lost island of the blest: + </div> + <div class="line"> + With peasant lovers in a blue + </div> + <div class="line"> + Dim dusk, with heather drench'd in dew, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the sweet peace of Lettermore + </div> + <div class="line"> + Remote and dreaming in the West. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="lament">LAMENT</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Once, I think, a finer fire + </div> + <div class="line"> + Touched my lips, and then I sang + </div> + <div class="line"> + Half the songs of my desire: + </div> + <div class="line"> + With their splendour the world rang. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And their sweetness made me free + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of those starry ways whereby + </div> + <div class="line"> + Planets make their minstrelsy + </div> + <div class="line"> + In echoing, unending sky. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + So, before that spell was broken, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Song of the wind, surge of the sea,-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beautiful passionate things unspoken + </div> + <div class="line"> + Rose like a breaking wave in me: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Rose like a wave with curled crest + </div> + <div class="line"> + That green sunlight splinters through... + </div> + <div class="line"> + But the wave broke within my breast: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And now I am a man like you. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="the-lemon-tree">THE LEMON-TREE</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Last night, last night, a vision of you + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sweetly troubled my waking dream: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beneath the clear Algerian blue + </div> + <div class="line"> + You stood with lifted eyes: the beam + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of a winter sun beat on the crown + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of a lemon-tree, whose delicate fruit + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like pale lamps hung airily down; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And in your gazing eyes a mute + </div> + <div class="line"> + And lovely wonder.... Have I sung + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of slender things and naught beside? + </div> + <div class="line"> + You were so beautifully young + </div> + <div class="line"> + I must have kissed you or have died. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <div class="large left line-block outermost" id="phthonos"> + <div class="line"> + PHTHONOS + </div> + </div> + <div class="large left line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + If, in high jealousy, God made me blind + </div> + <div class="line"> + And laughed to see me stumble in the night, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Driving his many-splintered arrows of light + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into that lost dominion of my mind; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then, knowing me still unvext and unresigned, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Stole from my ears all homely sounds that might + </div> + <div class="line"> + Temper the darkness, saying, in heaven's despite, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I had not wholly left the world behind; + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, sunless, soundless, if, to make an end, + </div> + <div class="line"> + He smote the nerves that move, the nerves that feel: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Even then, O jealous one, I would not complain + </div> + <div class="line"> + If I were spared the wealth I cannot spend, + </div> + <div class="line"> + If I were left the treasure none can steal: + </div> + <div class="line"> + The lovely words that wander through my brain. + </div> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="easter">EASTER</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Adown our lane at Eastertide + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hosts of dancing bluebells lay + </div> + <div class="line"> + In pools of light: and 'Oh,' you cried, + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'Look, look at them: I think that they + </div> + <div class="line"> + Are bluer than the laughing sea,' + </div> + <div class="line"> + And 'Look!' you cried, 'a piece of the sky + </div> + <div class="line"> + Has fallen down for you and me + </div> + <div class="line"> + To gaze upon and love.' ... And I, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Seeing in your eyes the dancing blue + </div> + <div class="line"> + And in your heart the innocent birth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of a pure delight, I knew, I knew + </div> + <div class="line"> + That heaven had fallen upon earth. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="the-leaning-elm">THE LEANING ELM</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Before my window, in days of winter hoar + </div> + <div class="line"> + Huddled a mournful wood: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore, + </div> + <div class="line"> + In stony sleep they stood: + </div> + <div class="line"> + But you, unhappy elm, the angry west + </div> + <div class="line"> + Had chosen from the rest, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Flung broken on your brothers' branches bare, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And left you leaning there + </div> + <div class="line"> + So dead that when the breath of winter cast + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wild snow upon the blast, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The other living branches, downward bowed, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Shook free their crystal shroud + </div> + <div class="line"> + And shed upon your blackened trunk beneath, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Their livery of death.... + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + On windless nights between the beechen bars + </div> + <div class="line"> + I watched cold stars + </div> + <div class="line"> + Throb whitely in the sky, and dreamily + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wondered if any life lay locked in thee: + </div> + <div class="line"> + If still the hidden sap secretly moved, + </div> + <div class="line"> + As water in the icy winterbourne + </div> + <div class="line"> + Floweth unheard; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And half I pitied you your trance forlorn: + </div> + <div class="line"> + You could not hear, I thought, the voice of any bird, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The shadowy cries of bats in dim twilight + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or cool voices of owls crying by night.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hunting by night under the hornèd moon: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yet half I envied you your wintry swoon, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Till, on this morning mild, the sun, new-risen + </div> + <div class="line"> + Steals from his misty prison; + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The frozen fallows glow, the black trees shaken + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a clear flood of sunlight vibrating awaken: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And lo, your ravaged bole, beyond belief + </div> + <div class="line"> + Slenderly fledged anew with tender leaf + </div> + <div class="line"> + As pale as those twin vanes that break at last + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a tiny fan above the black beech-mast + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where no blade springeth green + </div> + <div class="line"> + But pallid bells of the shy helleborine. + </div> + <div class="line"> + What is this ecstasy that overwhelms + </div> + <div class="line"> + The dreaming earth? See, the embrownèd elms + </div> + <div class="line"> + Crowding purple distances warm the depths of the wood; + </div> + <div class="line"> + A new-born wind tosses their tassels brown, + </div> + <div class="line"> + His white clouds dapple the down; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into a green flame bursting the hedgerows stand; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Soon, with banners flying, Spring will walk the land.... + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + There is no day for thee, my soul, like this, + </div> + <div class="line"> + No spring of lovely words. Nay, even the kiss + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of mortal love that maketh man divine + </div> + <div class="line"> + This light cannot outshine: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nay, even poets, they whose frail hands catch + </div> + <div class="line"> + The shadow of vanishing beauty, may not match + </div> + <div class="line"> + This leafy ecstasy. Sweet words may cull + </div> + <div class="line"> + Such magical beauty as time may not destroy; + </div> + <div class="line"> + But we, alas, are not more beautiful: + </div> + <div class="line"> + We cannot flower in beauty as in joy. + </div> + <div class="line"> + We sing, our musèd words are sped, and then + </div> + <div class="line"> + Poets are only men + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who age, and toil, and sicken.... This maim'd tree + </div> + <div class="line"> + May stand in leaf when I have ceased to be. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="the-joyous-lover">THE JOYOUS LOVER</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + O, now that I am free as the air + </div> + <div class="line"> + And fleet as clouds above, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I will wander everywhere + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over the ways I love. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Lightly, lightly will I pass + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor scatter as I go + </div> + <div class="line"> + A shadow on the blowing grass + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or a footprint in the snow. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + All the wild things of the wood + </div> + <div class="line"> + That once were timid and shy + </div> + <div class="line"> + They shall not flee their solitude + </div> + <div class="line"> + For fear, when I pass by; + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And beauty, beauty, the wide world over, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Shall blush when I draw near: + </div> + <div class="line"> + She knows her lover, the joyous lover, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And greets him without fear. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + But if I come to the dark room + </div> + <div class="line"> + From which our love hath fled + </div> + <div class="line"> + And bend above you in the gloom + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or kneel beside your bed, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Smile soft in your sleep, my beautiful one, + </div> + <div class="line"> + For if you should say 'Nay' + </div> + <div class="line"> + To the dream which visiteth you alone, + </div> + <div class="line"> + My joy would wither away. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="dead-poets">DEAD POETS</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst">ODE WRITTEN AT WILTON HOUSE</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Last night, amazed, I trod on holy ground + </div> + <div class="line"> + Breathing an air that ancient poets knew, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where, in a valley compassed with sweet sound, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beneath a garden's alley'd shades of yew, + </div> + <div class="line"> + With eager feet passèd that singer sweet + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who Stella loved, whom bloody Zutphen slew + </div> + <div class="line"> + In the starred zenith of his knightly fame. + </div> + <div class="line"> + There too a dark-stoled figure I did meet: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Herbert, whose faith burned true + </div> + <div class="line"> + And steadfast as the altar candle's flame. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Under the Wilton cedars, pondering + </div> + <div class="line"> + Upon the pains of Beauty and the wrong + </div> + <div class="line"> + That sealeth lovely lips, fated to sing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Before they reach the cadence of their song, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I mused upon dead poets: mighty ones + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who sang and suffered: briefly heard were they + </div> + <div class="line"> + As Libyan nightingales weary of wing + </div> + <div class="line"> + Fleeing the temper of Saharan suns + </div> + <div class="line"> + To gladden our moon'd May, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And with the broken blossom vanishing. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + So to my eyes a sorrowful vision came + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of one whose name was writ in water: bright + </div> + <div class="line"> + His cheeks and eyes burned with a hectic flame; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And one, alas! I saw whose passionate might + </div> + <div class="line"> + Was spent upon a fevered fen in Greece; + </div> + <div class="line"> + One shade there was who, starving, choked with bread; + </div> + <div class="line"> + One, a drown'd corpse, through stormy water slips; + </div> + <div class="line"> + One in the numbing poppy-juice found peace; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And one, a youth, lay dead + </div> + <div class="line"> + With powdered arsenic upon his lips. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + O bitter were the sorrow that could dull + </div> + <div class="line"> + The sombre music of slow evening + </div> + <div class="line"> + Here, where the old world is so beautiful + </div> + <div class="line"> + That even lesser lips are moved to sing + </div> + <div class="line"> + How the wide heron sails into the light + </div> + <div class="line"> + Black as the cedarn shadows on the lawns + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or stricken woodlands patient in decay, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And river water murmurs through the night + </div> + <div class="line"> + Until autumnal dawns + </div> + <div class="line"> + Burn in the glass of Nadder's watery way. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Nay, these were they by whom the world was lost, + </div> + <div class="line"> + To whom the world most richly gave: forlorn + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beauty they worshipp'd, counting not the cost + </div> + <div class="line"> + If of their torment beauty might be born; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And life, the splendid flower of their delight, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Loving too eagerly, they broke, and spill'd + </div> + <div class="line"> + The perfume that the folded petals close + </div> + <div class="line"> + Before its prime; yet their frail fingers white + </div> + <div class="line"> + From that bruised bloom distill'd + </div> + <div class="line"> + Uttermost attar of the living rose. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Wherefore, O shining ones, I will not mourn + </div> + <div class="line"> + You, who have ravish'd beauty's secret ways + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beneath death's impotent shadow, suffering scorn, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hatred, and desolation in her praise.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Thus as I spoke their phantom faces smiled, + </div> + <div class="line"> + As brooding night with heavy downward wing + </div> + <div class="line"> + Fell upon Wilton's elegiac stone, + </div> + <div class="line"> + On the dark woodlands and the waters wild + </div> + <div class="line"> + And every living thing-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + Leaving me there amazèd and alone. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="porton-water">PORTON WATER</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Through Porton village, under the bridge, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + A clear bourne floweth, with grasses trailing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wherein are shadows of white clouds sailing, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And elms that shelter under the ridge. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Through Porton village we passed one day, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Marching the plain for mile on mile, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And crossed the bridge in single file, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Happily singing, and marched away + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Over the bridge where the shallow races, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Under a clear and frosty sky: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the winterbourne, as we marched by, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Mirrored a thousand laughing faces. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + O, do we trouble you, Porton river, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + We who laughing passed, and after + </div> + <div class="line"> + Found a resting-place for laughter? + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over here, where the poplars shiver + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + By stagnant waters, we lie rotten. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + On windless nights, in the lonely places, + </div> + <div class="line"> + There, where the winter water races, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + O, Porton river, are we forgotten? + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Through Porton village, under the bridge, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The clear bourne floweth with grasses trailing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wherein are shadows of light cloud sailing, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And elms that shelter under the ridge. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The pale moon she comes and looks; + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Over the lonely spire she climbs; + </div> + <div class="line"> + For there she is lovelier many times + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than in the little broken brooks. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="an-old-house">AN OLD HOUSE</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + No one lives in the old house; long ago + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The voices of men and women left it lonely. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + They shuttered the sightless windows in a row, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Imprisoning empty darkness--darkness only. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Beyond the garden-closes, with sudden thunder + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The lumbering troop-train passing clanks and jangles; + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I, a stranger, peer with careless wonder + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Into the thickets of the garden tangles. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Yet, as I pass, a transient vision dawns + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Ghostly upon my pondering spirit's gloom, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of grey lavender bushes and weedy lawns + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And a solitary cherry-tree in bloom.... + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + No one lives in the old house: year by year + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The plaster crumbles on the lonely walls: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + The apple falls in the lush grass; the pear, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Pulpy with ripeness, on the pathway falls. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Yet this the garden was, where, on spring nights + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Under the cherry-blossom, lovers plighted + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Have wondered at the moony billows white, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Dreaming uncountable springs by love delighted; + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Whose ears have heard the blackbird's jolly whistle, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The shadowy cries of bats in twilight flitting + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Zigzag beneath the eaves; or, on the thistle, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The twitter of autumn birds swinging and sitting; + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Whose eyes, on winter evenings, slow returning + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Saw on the frosted paths pale lamplight fall + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Streaming, or, on the hearth, red embers burning, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And shadows of children playing in the hall. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Where have they gone, lovers of another day? + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + (No one lives in the old house; long ago + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + They shuttered the sightless windows....) Where are they, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Whose eyes delighted in this moony snow? + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + I cannot tell ... and little enough they care, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Though April spray the cherry-boughs with light, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And autumn pile her harvest unaware + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Under the walls that echoed their delight. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + I cannot tell ... yet I am as those lovers; + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + For me, who pass on my predestinate way, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + The prodigal blossom billows and recovers + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + In ghostly gardens a hundred miles away. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Yet, in my heart, a melancholy rapture + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Tells me that eyes, which now an iron haste + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hurries to iron days, may here recapture + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + A vision of ancient loveliness gone to waste. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="the-dhows">THE DHOWS</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + South of Guardafui with a dark tide flowing + </div> + <div class="line"> + We hailed two ships with tattered canvas bent to the monsoon, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hung betwixt the outer sea and pale surf showing + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where dead cities of Libya lay bleaching in the moon. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + 'Oh whither be ye sailing with torn sails broken?' + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'We sail, we sail for Sheba, at Suliman's behest, + </div> + <div class="line"> + With carven silver phalli for the ebony maids of Ophir + </div> + <div class="line"> + From brown-skinned baharias of Arabia the Blest.' + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + 'Oh whither be ye sailing, with your dark flag flying?' + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'We sail, with creaking cedar, towards the Northern Star. + </div> + <div class="line"> + The helmsman singeth wearily, and in our hold are lying + </div> + <div class="line"> + A hundred slaves in shackles from the marts of Zanzibar.' + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + 'Oh whither be ye sailing...?' + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'Alas, we sail no longer: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Our hulls are wrack, our sails are dust, as any man might know. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And why should you torment us? ... Your iron keels are stronger + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than ghostly ships that sailed from Tyre a thousand years ago.' + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="the-gift">THE GIFT</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Marching on Tanga, marching the parch'd plain + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of wavering spear-grass past Pangani River, + </div> + <div class="line"> + England came to me--me who had always ta'en + </div> + <div class="line"> + But never given before--England, the giver, + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a vision of three poplar-trees that shiver + </div> + <div class="line"> + On still evenings of summer, after rain, + </div> + <div class="line"> + By Slapton Ley, where reed-beds start and quiver + </div> + <div class="line"> + When scarce a ripple moves the upland grain. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then I thanked God that now I had suffered pain, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And, as the parch'd plain, thirst, and lain awake + </div> + <div class="line"> + Shivering all night through till cold daybreak: + </div> + <div class="line"> + In that I count these sufferings my gain + </div> + <div class="line"> + And her acknowledgment. Nay, more, would fain + </div> + <div class="line"> + Suffer as many more for her sweet sake. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="five-degrees-south">FIVE DEGREES SOUTH</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + I love all waves and lovely water in motion, + </div> + <div class="line"> + That wavering iris in comb of the blown spray: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Iris of tumbled nautilus in the wake's commotion, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Their spread sails dipped in a marmoreal way + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unquarried, wherein are greeny bubbles blowing + </div> + <div class="line"> + Plumes of faint spray, cool in the deep + </div> + <div class="line"> + And lucent seas, that pause not in their flowing + </div> + <div class="line"> + To lap the southern starlight while they sleep. + </div> + <div class="line"> + These I have seen, these I have loved and known: + </div> + <div class="line"> + I have seen Jupiter, that great star, swinging + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like a ship's lantern, silent and alone + </div> + <div class="line"> + Within his sea of sky, and heard the singing + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of the south trade, that siren of the air, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who shivers the taut shrouds, and singeth there. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="fahrenheit">104° FAHRENHEIT</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + To-night I lay with fever in my veins + </div> + <div class="line"> + Consumed, tormented creature of fire and ice, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And, weaving the enhavock'd brain's device, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Dreamed that for evermore I must walk these plains + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where sunlight slayeth life, and where no rains + </div> + <div class="line"> + Abated the fierce air, nor slaked its fire: + </div> + <div class="line"> + So that death seemed the end of all desire, + </div> + <div class="line"> + To ease the distracted body of its pains. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And so I died, and from my eyes the glare + </div> + <div class="line"> + Faded, nor had I further need of breath; + </div> + <div class="line"> + But when I reached my hand to find you there + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beside me, I found nothing.... Lonely was death. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And with a cry I wakened, but to hear + </div> + <div class="line"> + Thin wings of fever singing in my ear. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="fever-trees">FEVER-TREES</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The beautiful Acacia + </div> + <div class="line"> + She sighs in desert lands: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over the burning waterways + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of Africa she sways and sways, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Even where no air glideth + </div> + <div class="line"> + In cooling green she stands. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The beautiful Acacia + </div> + <div class="line"> + She hath a yellow dress: + </div> + <div class="line"> + A slender trunk of lemon sheen + </div> + <div class="line"> + Gleameth through the tender green + </div> + <div class="line"> + (Where the thorn hideth) + </div> + <div class="line"> + Shielding her loveliness. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The beautiful Acacia + </div> + <div class="line"> + Dwelleth in deadly lands: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over the brooding waterways + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where death breedeth, she sways and sways, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And no man long abideth + </div> + <div class="line"> + In valleys where she stands. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="the-rain-bird">THE RAIN-BIRD</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + High on the tufted baobab-tree + </div> + <div class="line"> + To-night a rain-bird sang to me + </div> + <div class="line"> + A simple song, of three notes only, + </div> + <div class="line"> + That made the wilderness more lonely; + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + For in my brain it echoed nearly, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Old village church bells chiming clearly: + </div> + <div class="line"> + The sweet cracked bells, just out of tune, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over the mowing grass in June-- + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Over the mowing grass, and meadows + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where the low sun casts long shadows. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And cuckoos call in the twilight + </div> + <div class="line"> + From elm to elm, in level flight. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Now through the evening meadows move + </div> + <div class="line"> + Slow couples of young folk in love, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who pause at every crooked stile + </div> + <div class="line"> + And kiss in the hawthorn's shade the while: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Like pale moths the summer frocks + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hover between the beds of phlox, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And old men, feeling it is late, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Cease their gossip at the gate, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Till deeper still the twilight grows, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And night blossometh, like a rose + </div> + <div class="line"> + Full of love and sweet perfume, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whose heart most tender stars illume. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Here the red sun sank like lead, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the sky blackened overhead; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Only the locust chirped at me + </div> + <div class="line"> + From the shadowy baobab-tree. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="moths">MOTHS</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + When I lay wakeful yesternight + </div> + <div class="line"> + My fever's flame was a clear light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + A taper, flaring in the wind, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whither, fluttering out of the dim + </div> + <div class="line"> + Night, many dreams glimmered by. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like moths, out of the darkness, blind, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hurling at that taper's flame, + </div> + <div class="line"> + From drinking honey of the night's flowers + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into my circled light they came: + </div> + <div class="line"> + So near I could see their soft colours, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Grey of the dove, most soothely grey; + </div> + <div class="line"> + But my heat singed their wings, and away + </div> + <div class="line"> + Darting into the dark again, + </div> + <div class="line"> + They escaped me.... + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Others floated down + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like those vaned seeds that fall + </div> + <div class="line"> + In autumn from the sycamore's crown + </div> + <div class="line"> + When no leaf trembleth nor branch is stirred, + </div> + <div class="line"> + More silent in flight than any bird, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or bat's wings flitting in darkness, soft + </div> + <div class="line"> + As lizards moving on a white wall + </div> + <div class="line"> + They came quietly from aloft + </div> + <div class="line"> + Down through my circle of light, and so + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into unlighted gloom below. + </div> + <div class="line"> + But one dream, strong-winged, daring + </div> + <div class="line"> + Flew beating at the heart of the flame + </div> + <div class="line"> + Till I feared it would have put out my light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + My thin taper, fitfully flaring, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And that I should be left alone in the night + </div> + <div class="line"> + With no more dreams for my delight. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Can it be that from the dead + </div> + <div class="line"> + Even their dreams, their dreams are fled? + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="bete-humaine">BÊTE HUMAINE</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I saw the world awake; and as the ray + </div> + <div class="line"> + Touched the tall grasses where they dream till day, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lo, the bright air alive with dragonflies, + </div> + <div class="line"> + With brittle wings aquiver, and great eyes + </div> + <div class="line"> + Piloting crimson bodies, slender and gay. + </div> + <div class="line"> + I aimed at one, and struck it, and it lay + </div> + <div class="line"> + Broken and lifeless, with fast-fading dyes... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then my soul sickened with a sudden pain + </div> + <div class="line"> + And horror, at my own careless cruelty, + </div> + <div class="line"> + That where all things are cruel I had slain + </div> + <div class="line"> + A creature whose sweet life it is to fly: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like beasts that prey with bloody claw... + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Nay, they + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Must slay to live, but what excuse had I? + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="doves">DOVES</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + On the edge of the wild-wood + </div> + <div class="line"> + Grey doves fluttering: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Grey doves of Astarte + </div> + <div class="line"> + To the woods at daybreak + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lazily uttering + </div> + <div class="line"> + Their murmured enchantment, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Old as man's childhood; + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + While she, pale divinity + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of hidden evil, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Silvers the regions chaste + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of cold sky, and broodeth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over forests primeval + </div> + <div class="line"> + And all that thorny waste's + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wooded infinity. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + 'Lovely goddess of groves,' + </div> + <div class="line"> + Cried I, 'what enchanted + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sinister recesses + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of these lone shades + </div> + <div class="line"> + May still be haunted + </div> + <div class="line"> + By thy demon caresses, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Thy unholy loves?' + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + But clear day quelleth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Her dominion lonely, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the soft ring-dove, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Murmuring, telleth + </div> + <div class="line"> + That dark sin only + </div> + <div class="line"> + From man's lust springeth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + In man's heart dwelleth. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="song-i">SONG</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + I made a song in my love's likeness + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + From colours of my quietude, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + From trees whose blossoms shine no less + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Than butterflies in the wild-wood. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + I laid claim on all beauty + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Under the sun to praise her wonder, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Till the noise of war swept over me, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Stopp'd my singing mouth with thunder. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The angel of death hath swift wings, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + I heard him strip the huddled trees + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Overhead, as a hornet sings, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And whip the grass about my knees. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Down we crouched in the parchèd dust, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Down beneath that deadly rain: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Dead still I lay, as lie one must + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Who hath a bullet in his brain. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Dead they left me: but my soul, waking, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Quietly laughed at their distress + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who guessed not that I still was making + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + That new song in my love's likeness. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="before-action">BEFORE ACTION</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Now the wind of the dawn sighs, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Now red embers have burned white, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Under the darkness faints and dies + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The slow-beating heart of night. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Into the darkness my eyes peer + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Seeing only faces steel'd, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And level eyes that know not fear; + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Yet each heart is a battlefield + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Where phantom armies foin and feint + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And bloody victories are won + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + From the time when stars are faint + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + To the rising of the sun. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + With banners broken, and the roll + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Of drums, at dawn the phantoms fly: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + A man must commune with his soul + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + When he marches out to die. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + O day of wrath and of desire! + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + For each may know upon this day + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whether he be a thing of fire + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Or fettered to the traitor clay. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Such is the hazard that is thrown: + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + We know not how the dice may fall: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + All the secrets shall be known + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Or else we shall not know at all. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="on-a-subaltern-killed-in-action">ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Into that dry and most desolate place + </div> + <div class="line"> + With heavy gait they dragged the stretcher in + </div> + <div class="line"> + And laid him on the bloody ground: the din + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of Maxim fire ceased not. I raised his head, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And looked into his face, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And saw that he was dead. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Saw beneath matted curls the broken skin + </div> + <div class="line"> + That let the bullet in; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And saw the limp, lithe limbs, the smiling mouth... + </div> + <div class="line"> + (Ah, may we smile at death + </div> + <div class="line"> + As bravely....) the curv'd lips that no more drouth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Should blacken, and no sweetly stirring breath + </div> + <div class="line"> + Mildly displace. + </div> + <div class="line"> + So I covered the calm face + </div> + <div class="line"> + And stripped the shirt from his firm breast, and there, + </div> + <div class="line"> + A zinc identity disc, a bracelet of elephant hair + </div> + <div class="line"> + I found.... Ah, God, how deep it stings + </div> + <div class="line"> + This unendurable pity of small things! + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + But more than this I saw, + </div> + <div class="line"> + That dead stranger welcoming, more than the raw + </div> + <div class="line"> + And brutal havoc of war. + </div> + <div class="line"> + England I saw, the mother from whose side + </div> + <div class="line"> + He came hither and died, she at whose hems he had play'd, + </div> + <div class="line"> + In whose quiet womb his body and soul were made. + </div> + <div class="line"> + That pale, estrangèd flesh that we bowed over + </div> + <div class="line"> + Had breathed the scent in summer of white clover; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Dreamed her cool fading nights, her twilights long, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And days as careless as a blackbird's song + </div> + <div class="line"> + Heard in the hush of eve, when midges' wings + </div> + <div class="line"> + Make a thin music, and the night-jar spins. + </div> + <div class="line"> + (For it is summer, I thought, in England now....) + </div> + <div class="line"> + And once those forward gazing eyes had seen + </div> + <div class="line"> + Her lovely living green: that blackened brow + </div> + <div class="line"> + Cool airs, from those blue hills moving, had fann'd-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + Breath of that holy land + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whither my soul aspireth without despair: + </div> + <div class="line"> + In the broken brain had many a lovely word + </div> + <div class="line"> + Awakened magical echoes of things heard, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Telling of love and laughter and low voices, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And tales in which the English heart rejoices + </div> + <div class="line"> + In vanishing visions of childhood and its glories: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Old-fashioned nursery rhymes and fairy stories: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Words that only an English tongue could tell. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And the firing died away; and the night fell + </div> + <div class="line"> + On our battle. Only in the sullen sky + </div> + <div class="line"> + A prairie fire, with huge fantastic flame + </div> + <div class="line"> + Leapt, lighting dark clouds charged with thunder. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And my heart was sick with shame + </div> + <div class="line"> + That there, in death, he should lie, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Crying: 'Oh, why am I alive, I wonder?' + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + In a dream I saw war riding the land: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Stark rode she, with bowed eyes, against the glare + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of sack'd cities smouldering in the dark, + </div> + <div class="line"> + A tired horse, lean, with outreaching head, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And hid her face of dread.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yet, in my passion would I look on her, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Crying, O hark, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Thou pale one, whom now men say bearest the scythe + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of God, that iron scythe forged by his thunder + </div> + <div class="line"> + For reaping of nations overripened, fashioned + </div> + <div class="line"> + Upon the clanging anvil whose sparks, flying + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a starry night, dying, fall hereunder.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + But she, she heeded not my cry impassioned + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor turned her face of dread, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Urging the tired horse, with outreaching head, + </div> + <div class="line"> + O thou, cried I, who choosest for thy going + </div> + <div class="line"> + These bloomy meadows of youth, these flowery ways + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whereby no influence strays + </div> + <div class="line"> + Ruder than a cold wind blowing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or beating needles of rain, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Why must thou ride again + </div> + <div class="line"> + Ruthless among the pastures yet unripened, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Crushing their beauty in thine iron track + </div> + <div class="line"> + Downtrodden, ravish'd in thy following flame, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Parched and black? + </div> + <div class="line"> + But she, she stayed not in her weary haste + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor turned her face; but fled: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And where she passed the lands lay waste.... + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And now I cannot tell whither she rideth: + </div> + <div class="line"> + But tired, tired rides she. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yet know I well why her dread face she hideth: + </div> + <div class="line"> + She is pale and faint to death. Yea, her day faileth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor all her blood, nor all her frenzy burning, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor all her hate availeth: + </div> + <div class="line"> + For she passeth out of sight + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into that night + </div> + <div class="line"> + From which none, none returneth + </div> + <div class="line"> + To waste the meadows of youth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor vex thine eyelids, Routhe, + </div> + <div class="line"> + O sorrowful sister, soother of our sorrow. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And a hope within me springs + </div> + <div class="line"> + That fair will be the morrow, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And that charred plain, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Those flowery meadows, shall rejoice at last + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a sweet, clean + </div> + <div class="line"> + Freshness, as when the green + </div> + <div class="line"> + Grass springeth, where the prairie fire hath passed. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="after-action">AFTER ACTION</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + All through that day of battle the broken sound + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of shattering Maxim fire made mad the wood; + </div> + <div class="line"> + So that the low trees shuddered where they stood, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And echoes bellowed in the bush around: + </div> + <div class="line"> + But when, at last the light of day was drowned, + </div> + <div class="line"> + That madness ceased.... Ah, God, but it was good! + </div> + <div class="line"> + There, in the reek of iodine and blood, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I flung me down upon the thorny ground. + </div> + <div class="line"> + So quiet was it, I might well have been lying + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a room I love, where the ivy cluster shakes + </div> + <div class="line"> + Its dew upon the lattice panes at even: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where rusty ivory scatters from the dying + </div> + <div class="line"> + Jessamine blossom, and the musk-rose breaks + </div> + <div class="line"> + Her dusky bloom beneath a summer heaven. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="sonnet">SONNET</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Not only for remembered loveliness, + </div> + <div class="line"> + England, my mother, my own, we hold thee rare + </div> + <div class="line"> + Who toil, and fight, and sicken beneath the glare + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of brazen skies that smile on our duress, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Making us crave thy cloudy state no less + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than the sweet clarity of thy rain-wash'd air, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Meadows in moonlight cool, and every fair + </div> + <div class="line"> + Slow-fading flower of thy summer dress: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Not for thy flowers, but for the unfading crown + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of sacrifice our happy brothers wove thee: + </div> + <div class="line"> + The joyous ones who laid thy beauty down + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor stayed to see it shamed. For these we love thee, + </div> + <div class="line"> + For this (O love, O dread!) we hold thee more + </div> + <div class="line"> + Divinely fair to-day than heretofore. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="a-farewell-to-africa">A FAREWELL TO AFRICA</p> + <p class="pnext">,, vspace:: 2</p><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Now once again, upon the pole-star's bearing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + We plough these furrowed fields where no blade springeth; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Again the busy trade in the halyards singeth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sun-whitened spindrift from the blown wave shearing; + </div> + <div class="line"> + The uncomplaining sea suffers our faring; + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a brazen glitter our little wake is lost, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the starry south rolls over until no ghost + </div> + <div class="line"> + Remaineth of us and all our pitiful daring; + </div> + <div class="line"> + For the sea beareth no trace of man's endeavour, + </div> + <div class="line"> + His might enarmoured, his prosperous argosies, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Soundless, within her unsounded caves, forever + </div> + <div class="line"> + She broodeth, knowing neither war nor peace, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And our grey cruisers holds in mind no more + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than the cedarn fleets that Sheba's treasure bore. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="song-ii">SONG</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + What is the worth of war + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a world that turneth, turneth + </div> + <div class="line"> + About a tired star + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whose flaming centre burneth + </div> + <div class="line"> + No longer than the space + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of the spent atom's race: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where conquered lands, soon, soon + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lie waste as the pale moon? + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + What is the worth of art + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a world that fast forgetteth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Those who have wrung its heart + </div> + <div class="line"> + With beauty that love begetteth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whose faint flames vanish quite + </div> + <div class="line"> + In that star-powdered night + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where even the mighty ones + </div> + <div class="line"> + Shine only as far suns? + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And what is beauty worth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sweet beauty, that persuadeth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of her immortal birth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then, as a flower, fadeth: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or love, whose tender years + </div> + <div class="line"> + End with the mourner's tears, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Die, when the mourner's breath + </div> + <div class="line"> + Is quiet, at last, in death? + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Beauty and love are one, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Even when fierce war clashes: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Even when our fiery sun + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hath burnt itself to ashes, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the dead planets race + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unlighted through blind space, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beauty will still shine there: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wherefore, I worship her. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="the-hawthorn-spray">THE HAWTHORN SPRAY</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + I saw a thrush light on a hawthorn spray, + </div> + <div class="line"> + One moment only, spilling creamy blossom, + </div> + <div class="line"> + While the bough bent beneath her speckled bosom, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Bent, and recovered, and she fluttered away. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The branch was still; but, in my heart, a pain + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than the thorn'd spray more cruel, stabbed me, only + </div> + <div class="line"> + Remembering days in a far land and lonely + </div> + <div class="line"> + When I had never hoped for summer again. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="the-pavement">THE PAVEMENT</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + In bitter London's heart of stone, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Under the lamplight's shielded glare. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + I saw a soldier's body thrown + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Unto the drabs that traffic there + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Pacing the pavements with slow feet: + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Those old pavements whose blown dust + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Throttles the hot air of the street, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And the darkness smells of lust. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The chaste moon, with equal glance, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Looked down on the mad world, astare + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + At those who conquered in sad France + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And those who perished in Leicester Square. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And in her light his lips were pale: + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Lips that love had moulded well: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Out of the jaws of Passchendaele + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + They had sent him to this nether hell. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + I had no stone of scorn to fling, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + For I know not how the wrong began-- + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + But I had seen a hateful thing + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Masked in the dignity of man: + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And hate and sorrow and hopeless anger + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Swept my heart, as the winds that sweep + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Angrily through the leafless hanger + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + When winter rises from the deep.... + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + * * * * * + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + I would that war were what men dream: + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + A crackling fire, a cleansing flame, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + That it might leap the space between + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And lap up London and its shame. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="to-lydia-lopokova-i">To LYDIA LOPOKOVA</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="left medium pfirst">HER GARLAND</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + O thou who comest to our wintry shade + </div> + <div class="line"> + Gay and light-footed as the virgin Spring, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Before whose shining feet the cherries fling + </div> + <div class="line"> + Their moony tribute, when the sloe is sprayed + </div> + <div class="line"> + With light, and all things musical are made: + </div> + <div class="line"> + O thou who art Spring's daughter, who can bring + </div> + <div class="line"> + Blossom, or song of bird, or anything + </div> + <div class="line"> + To match the youth in which you stand arrayed? + </div> + <div class="line"> + Not that rich garland Meleager twined + </div> + <div class="line"> + In his sun-guarded glade above the blue + </div> + <div class="line"> + That flashes from the burning Tyrian seas: + </div> + <div class="line"> + No, you are cooler, sweeter than the wind + </div> + <div class="line"> + That wakes our woodlands; so I bring to you + </div> + <div class="line"> + These wind-blown blossoms of anemones. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div> + <p class="left medium pfirst" id="to-lydia-lopokova-ii">HER VARIETY</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Soft as a pale moth flitting in moonshine + </div> + <div class="line"> + I saw thee flutter to the shadowy call + </div> + <div class="line"> + That beckons from the strings of Carneval, + </div> + <div class="line"> + O frail and fragrant image of Columbine: + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, when the spectre of the rose was thine, + </div> + <div class="line"> + A flower wert thou, and last I saw thee fall + </div> + <div class="line"> + In Cleopatra's stormy bacchanal + </div> + <div class="line"> + Flown with the red insurgence of the vine. + </div> + <div class="line"> + O moth, O flower, O mænad, which art thou? + </div> + <div class="line"> + Shadowy, beautiful, or leaping wild + </div> + <div class="line"> + As stormlight over savage Tartar skies? + </div> + <div class="line"> + Such were my ancient questionings; but now + </div> + <div class="line"> + I know that you are nothing but a child + </div> + <div class="line"> + With a red flower's mouth and hazel eyes. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div> + <p class="left medium pfirst" id="to-lydia-lopokova-iii">HER SWIFTNESS</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + You are too swift for poetry, too fleet + </div> + <div class="line"> + For any musèd numbers to ensnare: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Swifter than music dying on the air + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or bloom upon rose-petals, fades the sweet + </div> + <div class="line"> + Vanishing magic of your flying feet, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Your poisèd finger, and your shining hair: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Words cannot tell how wonderful you were, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or how one gesture made a joy complete. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And since you know my pen may never capture + </div> + <div class="line"> + The transient swift loveliness of you, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Come, let us salve our sense of the world's loss + </div> + <div class="line"> + Remembering, with a melancholy rapture, + </div> + <div class="line"> + How many dancing-girls ... and poets too... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Dream in the dust of Hecatompylos. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="ghostly-loves">GHOSTLY LOVES</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + 'Oh why,' my darling prayeth me, 'must you sing + </div> + <div class="line"> + For ever of ghostly loves, phantasmal passion? + </div> + <div class="line"> + Seeing that you never loved me after that fashion + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the love I gave was not a phantom thing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + But delight of eager lips and strong arms folding + </div> + <div class="line"> + The beauty of yielding arms and of smooth shoulder, + </div> + <div class="line"> + All fluent grace of which you were the moulder: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I.... Oh, I was happy for your holding.' + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'Ah, do you not know, my dearest, have you not seen + </div> + <div class="line"> + The shadow that broodeth over things that perish: + </div> + <div class="line"> + How age may mock sweet moments that have been + </div> + <div class="line"> + And death defile the beauty that we cherish? + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wherefore, sweet spirit, I thank thee for thy giving: + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'Tis my spirit that embraceth thee dead or living.' + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="february">FEBRUARY</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The robin on my lawn, + </div> + <div class="line"> + He was the first to tell + </div> + <div class="line"> + How, in the frozen dawn, + </div> + <div class="line"> + This miracle befell, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Waking the meadows white + </div> + <div class="line"> + With hoar, the iron road + </div> + <div class="line"> + Agleam with splintered light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And ice where water flowed: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Till, when the low sun drank + </div> + <div class="line"> + Those milky mists that cloak + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hanger and hollied bank, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The winter world awoke + </div> + <div class="line"> + To hear the feeble bleat + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of lambs on downland farms: + </div> + <div class="line"> + A blackbird whistled sweet; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Old beeches moved their arms + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into a mellow haze + </div> + <div class="line"> + Aerial, newly-born: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I, alone, agaze, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Stood waiting for the thorn + </div> + <div class="line"> + To break in blossom white + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or burst in a green flame... + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, in a single night, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Fair February came, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Bidding my lips to sing + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or whisper their surprise, + </div> + <div class="line"> + With all the joy of spring + </div> + <div class="line"> + And morning in her eyes. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="song-of-the-dark-ages">SONG OF THE DARK AGES</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + We digged our trenches on the down + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Beside old barrows, and the wet + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + White chalk we shovelled from below; + </div> + <div class="line"> + It lay like drifts of thawing snow + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + On parados and parapet: + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Until a pick neither struck flint + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Nor split the yielding chalky soil, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + But only calcined human bone: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Poor relic of that Age of Stone + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Whose ossuary was our spoil. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Home we marched singing in the rain, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And all the while, beneath our song, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + I mused how many springs should wane + </div> + <div class="line"> + And still our trenches scar the plain: + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + The monument of an old wrong. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + But then, I thought, the fair green sod + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Will wholly cover that white stain, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And soften, as it clothes the face + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of those old barrows, every trace + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Of violence to the patient plain. + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + And careless people, passing by, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Will speak of both in casual tone: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Saying: 'You see the toil they made: + </div> + <div class="line"> + The age of iron, pick, and spade, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Here jostles with the Age of Stone.' + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Yet either from that happier race + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Will merit but a passing glance; + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And they will leave us both alone: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Poor savages who wrought in stone-- + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Poor savages who fought in France. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="winter-sunset">WINTER SUNSET</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Athwart the blackening bars of pines benighted, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The sun, descending to the zones of denser + </div> + <div class="line"> + Cloud that o'erhung the long horizon, lighted + </div> + <div class="line"> + Upon the crown of earth a flaming censer + </div> + <div class="line"> + From which white clouds of incense, overflowing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Filled the chill clarity from whence the swallows + </div> + <div class="line"> + Had lately fled with wreathèd vapours, showing + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like a fine bloom over the lonely fallows: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where, with the pungent breath of mist was blended + </div> + <div class="line"> + A faint aroma of pine-needles sodden + </div> + <div class="line"> + By autumn rains, and fainter still, ascended + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beneath high woods the scent of leaves downtrodden. + </div> + <div class="line"> + It was a moment when the earth, that sickened + </div> + <div class="line"> + For Spring, as lover when the beloved lingers, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lay breathless, while the distant goddess quickened + </div> + <div class="line"> + Some southern hill-side with her glowing fingers: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And so, it seemed, the drowsy lands were shaken, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Stirred in their sleep, and sighed, as though the pain + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of a strange dream had bidden them awaken + </div> + <div class="line"> + To frozen days and bitter nights again. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="song-iii">SONG</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Why have you stolen my delight + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + In all the golden shows of Spring + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + When every cherry-tree is white + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And in the limes the thrushes sing, + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + O fickler than the April day, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + O brighter than the golden broom, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + O blyther than the thrushes' lay, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + O whiter than the cherry-bloom, + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + O sweeter than all things that blow ... + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Why have you only left for me + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + The broom, the cherry's crown of snow, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And thrushes in the linden-tree? + </div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="england-april-1918">ENGLAND--APRIL, 1918</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Last night the North flew at the throat of Spring + </div> + <div class="line"> + With spite to tear her greening banners down, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Tossing the elm-tree's tender tassels brown, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The virgin blossom of sloe burdening + </div> + <div class="line"> + With colder snow; beneath his frosty sting + </div> + <div class="line"> + Patient, the newly-wakened woods were bowed + </div> + <div class="line"> + By drownèd fields where stormy waters flowed: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yet, on the thorn, I heard a blackbird sing.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'Too late, too late,' he sang, 'this wintry spite; + </div> + <div class="line"> + For molten snow will feed the springing grass: + </div> + <div class="line"> + The tide of life, it floweth with the year.' + </div> + <div class="line"> + O England, England, thou that standest upright + </div> + <div class="line"> + Against the tide of death, the bad days pass: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Know, by this miracle, that summer is near. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="slender-themes">SLENDER THEMES</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + When, by a happier race, these leaves are turned, + </div> + <div class="line"> + They'll wonder that such quiet themes engaged + </div> + <div class="line"> + A soldier's mind when noisy wars were waged, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And half the world in one red bonfire burned. + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'When that fierce age,' they'll say, 'went up in flame + </div> + <div class="line"> + He lived ... or died, seeing those bright deeds done + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whereby our sweet and settled peace was won, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yet offereth slender dreams, not deeds, to Fame.' + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then say: 'Out of the heart the mouth speaketh, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And mine was as the hearts of other men + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whom those dark days impassioned; yet it seeketh + </div> + <div class="line"> + To paint the sombre woes that held us then, + </div> + <div class="line"> + No more than the cloud-rending levin's light + </div> + <div class="line"> + Seeks to illumine the sad skies of night.' + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="invocation">INVOCATION</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Whither, O, my sweet mistress, must I follow thee? + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + For when I hear thy distant footfall nearing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And wait on thy appearing, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lo! my lips are silent: no words come to me. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Once I waylaid thee in green forest covers, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Hoping that spring might free my lips with gentle fingers; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Alas! her presence lingers + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + No longer than on the plain the shadow of brown kestrel hovers. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Through windless ways of the night my spirit followed after;-- + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Cold and remote were they, and there, possessed + </div> + <div class="line"> + By a strange unworldly rest, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Awaiting thy still voice heard only starry laughter. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + The pillared halls of sleep echoed my ghostly tread. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Yet when their secret chambers I essayed + </div> + <div class="line"> + My spirit sank, dismayed, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Waking in fear to find the new-born vision fled. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Once indeed--but then my spirit bloomed in leafy rapture-- + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + I loved; and once I looked death in the eyes: + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, suddenly made wise, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Spoke of such beauty as I may never recapture.... + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Whither, O, divine mistress, must I then follow thee? + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Is it only in love ... say, is it only in death + </div> + <div class="line"> + That the spirit blossometh, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And words that may match my vision shall come to me? + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="thamar">THAMAR</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="left medium pfirst">(<em class="italics">To Thamar Karsavina</em>)</p> + <div class="left line-block medium outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Once in the sombre light of the throng'd courts of night, + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a dream-haunted land only inhabited + </div> + <div class="line"> + By the unhappy dead, came one who, anxious eyed, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Clung to my idle hand with clenched fingers weak + </div> + <div class="line"> + And gazed into my eyes as he had wrongs to speak. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Silent he stood and wan, more pallid than the leaves + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of an aspen blown under a wind that grieves. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then I: 'O haggard one, say from what ghostly zone + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of thwarted destinies or torment hast thou come? + </div> + <div class="line"> + Tell me thy race and name!' And he, with veiled face: + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'I have neither name nor race, but I have travelled far, + </div> + <div class="line"> + A timeless avatar of never-ending dooms, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Out of those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star + </div> + <div class="line"> + In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Once in a lonely dawn my eager spirit fared + </div> + <div class="line"> + By ways that no men dared unto a desert land, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where, on a sullen strand, a mouldering city, vast + </div> + <div class="line"> + As towered Babylon, stood in the dreamy sand-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + Older a million years: Babel was builded on + </div> + <div class="line"> + That broken city's tears; dust of her crumbled past + </div> + <div class="line"> + Rose from the rapid wheels of Babel's charioteers + </div> + <div class="line"> + In whorled clouds above those shining thoroughfares + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where Babel's millions tread on her unheeding dead. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Forth from an eastern gate where the lips of Asia wait + </div> + <div class="line"> + Parch'd with an ancient thirst that no æons can abate, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Passed I, predestinate, to a thorn'd desert's drought, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where the rivers of the south, flowing in a cloudy spate, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Spend at last their splendid strength in a sea of molten glass + </div> + <div class="line"> + Seething with the brazen might of a white sun dipped at length + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like a baked stone, burning hot, plunged in a hissing pot. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Out of that solemn portal over the tawny waste, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Without stay, without haste, nor the joy of any mortal + </div> + <div class="line"> + Glance of eye or clasp of hand, desolate, in a burning land, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lonely days and nights I travelled and the changing seasons squandered + </div> + <div class="line"> + Friendless, endlessly, I wandered nor my woven fate unravelled; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Drawn to a hidden goal, sore, forlorn with waiting, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Seeking I knew not what, yet unhesitating + </div> + <div class="line"> + Struggled my hapless soul... + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + There, in a thousand springs, + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Slow, beneath frozen snow, where the blind earth lay cringing, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Have I seen the steppe unfold uncounted blossomings, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where salty pools shone fair in a quivering blue air + </div> + <div class="line"> + That shivered every fringing reed-bed with cool delight, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And fanned the mazy flight of slow-wing'd egrets white + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beating and wheeling bright against the sun astare; + </div> + <div class="line"> + But I could not hear their wings for they were ghostly things + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sent by the powers of night to mock my sufferings + </div> + <div class="line"> + And rain upon the bitter waterpools their drops aglitter. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yet, when these lakes accursed tortured my aching thirst, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The green reeds fell to dust, the cool pools to a crust + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of frozen salt crystallised to taunt my broken lips, + </div> + <div class="line"> + To cheat my staring eyes, as a vision of great ships + </div> + <div class="line"> + With moving towers of sail, poops throng'd with grinning crowds + </div> + <div class="line"> + And a wind in their shrouds, bears down upon the pale + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wasted castaway afloat with the salt in his throat + </div> + <div class="line"> + And a feeble wild desire to be quenched of his fire + </div> + <div class="line"> + In the green gloom beneath. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + So, again and again, + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hath a phantom city thrust to the visionary vault + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of inviolate cobalt, dome and dreaming minaret + </div> + <div class="line"> + Mosque and gleaming water-tower hazy in a fountain's jet + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or a market's rising dust; and my lips have cried aloud + </div> + <div class="line"> + To see them tremble there, though I knew within my heart + </div> + <div class="line"> + They were chiselled out of cloud or carven of thin air; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And my fingers clenched my hand, for I wondered if this land + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of my stony pilgrimage were a glimmering mirage, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I myself no more than a phantom of the sand. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'But beyond these fading slender cities, many leagues away, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Strange brooding mountains lay heaped, crowding range on range + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a changing cloudy splendour; and beyond, in lakes of light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + As eastward still I staggered, there swam into my sight, + </div> + <div class="line"> + More vast and hoar and haggard, shoulders of ice and snow + </div> + <div class="line"> + Bounding the heavens low of burnished brass, whereunder + </div> + <div class="line"> + The hot plains of Cathay perpetually slumber: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where tawny millions breed in cities without number, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whither, a hill-born thunder, rolling on Tartary + </div> + <div class="line"> + With torrents and barb'd lightning, swelleth the yellow river + </div> + <div class="line"> + To a tumult of whitening foam and confusèd might + </div> + <div class="line"> + That drowns in a single night many a mud-made city; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And cities of boats, and frail cities of lath and reed, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Are whirled away without pity or set afloat in a pale, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Swirling, shallow sea ... and their names seem lost for ever + </div> + <div class="line"> + Till a stranger nomad race drive their herds to the sad place + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where old sorrows lie forgotten, and raise upon the rotten + </div> + <div class="line"> + Level waste another brood to await another flood. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'But I never might attain to this melancholy plain + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + For the mountains rose between; stark in my path they lay + </div> + <div class="line"> + Between me and Cathay, through moving mist half-seen. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I knew that they were real, for their drooping folds of cloud + </div> + <div class="line"> + Enwrapped me in a shroud, and the air that fell at night + </div> + <div class="line"> + From their frozen summits white slid like an ice-blue steel + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into my living breast and stilled the heart within + </div> + <div class="line"> + As the chill of an old sin that robs a man of rest, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Killing all delight in the silence of the night + </div> + <div class="line"> + And brooding black above till the heart dare not move + </div> + <div class="line"> + But lieth cold and numb ... and the dawn will not come. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'Yet to me a dawn came, new-kindled in cold flame, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Flinging the imminence of those inviolate snows + </div> + <div class="line"> + On the forest lawns below in a shadow more immense + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than their eternal vastness; and a new hope beyond reason, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Flamed in my heart's dark season, dazzled my pallid eyes, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Till, when the hot sun soared above the uttermost height, + </div> + <div class="line"> + A draught of keen delight into my body was poured, + </div> + <div class="line"> + For all that frozen fastness lay flowered with the spring: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Her starry blossoms broke beneath my bruisèd feet, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And their beauty was so sweet to me I kissed them where they lay; + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yea, I bent my weary hips and kissed them with dry lips, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Tenderly, only dreading lest their petals delicate + </div> + <div class="line"> + Should be broken by my treading, for I lived, I lived again, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And my heart would have been broken by a living creature's pain, + </div> + <div class="line"> + So I kissed them for a token of my joy in their new birth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I kissed the gentle earth. Slowly the shadows crept + </div> + <div class="line"> + To the bases of the crags, and I slept.... + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'Once, in another life, had I remembered sleep, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + When tired children creep on to their mother's knees, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And there a dreamless peace more quietly descendeth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than gentle evening endeth or ring-doves fold their wings, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Before the nightjar spins or the nightingale begins; + </div> + <div class="line"> + When the brooding hedgerow trees where they nest lie awake + </div> + <div class="line"> + And breathe so soft they shake not a single shuddering leaf + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lest the silence should break. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'Other sleep have I known, + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Deeper, beyond belief, when straining limbs relax + </div> + <div class="line"> + After hot human toil in yellow harvest fields + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where the panting earth yields a smell of baked soil, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the dust of dry stubbles blows over the whitening + </div> + <div class="line"> + Shocks of lank grain and bundles of flax, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And men fling themselves down forgetting their troubles, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unheedful of the song that the landrail weaves along + </div> + <div class="line"> + Misty woodlands, or lightning that the pale sky laves + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like phosphorescent waves washing summer seas: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And, more beautiful than these, that sleep of dazèd wonder + </div> + <div class="line"> + When love has torn asunder the veils of the sky + </div> + <div class="line"> + And raptured lovers lie faint in each other's arms + </div> + <div class="line"> + Beneath a heaven strewn with myriad starry swarms, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where planets float like lonely gold-flowered nenuphars + </div> + <div class="line"> + In pools of the sky; yet, when they wake, they turn + </div> + <div class="line"> + From those burning galaxies seeking heaven only + </div> + <div class="line"> + In each other's eyes, and sigh, and sleep again; + </div> + <div class="line"> + For while they sleep they seem to forget the world's pain, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And when they wake, they dream.... + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'But other sleep was mine + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + As I had drunk of wine with bitter hemlock steep'd, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or sousèd with the heapèd milky poppyheads + </div> + <div class="line"> + A drowsy Tartar treads where slow waters sweep + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over red river beds, and the air is heavy with sleep. + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, when I woke at last, the labouring earth had rolled + </div> + <div class="line"> + Eastward under the vast dominion of night, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Funereal, forlorn as that unlighted chamber + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wherein she first was born, bereft of all starlight, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Pale silver of the moon, or the low sun's amber. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'Then to my queen I prayed, grave Ashtoreth, whose shade + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Hallows the dim abyss of Heliopolis, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where many an olive maid clashed kissing Syrian cymbals, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And silver-sounding timbrels shivered through the vale. + </div> + <div class="line"> + O lovely, and O white, under the holy night + </div> + <div class="line"> + Is their gleaming wonder, and their brows are pale + </div> + <div class="line"> + As the new risen moon, dancing till they swoon + </div> + <div class="line"> + In far forests under desolate Lebanon, + </div> + <div class="line"> + While the flame of Moloch's pyre reddens the sea-born cloud + </div> + <div class="line"> + That overshadows Tyre; so, when I cried aloud, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Behold, a torch of fire leapt on the mountain-side! + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'O bright, O beautiful! for never kindlier light + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Fell on the darkened sight of mortal eyes and dull + </div> + <div class="line"> + Since that devoted one, whom gloomy Caucasus + </div> + <div class="line"> + In icy silence lonely bound to his cruel shoulders, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Brought to benighted men in a hollow fennel-stem + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sparks of the torrid vapour that burned behind the bars + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of evening, broke dawn's rose, or smouldered in the stars, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or lit the glowworm's taper, or wavered over the fen, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or tipped the javelin of the far-ravening levin, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Lash of the Lord of Heaven and bitter scourge of sin. + </div> + <div class="line"> + O beautiful, O bright! my tired sinews strained + </div> + <div class="line"> + To this torch that flared and waned as a watery planet gloweth + </div> + <div class="line"> + And waneth in the night when a calm sea floweth + </div> + <div class="line"> + Under a misty sky spread with the tattered veils + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of rapid cloud driven over the deeps of heaven + </div> + <div class="line"> + By winds that range too high to sweep the languid sails. + </div> + <div class="line"> + On through the frozen night, like a blind moth flying + </div> + <div class="line"> + With battered wing and bruisèd bloom into a light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I dragged my ragged limbs, cared not if I were dying, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Knew not if I were dead, where cavernous crevasses, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And stony desperate passes snared, waylaid my tread: + </div> + <div class="line"> + In the roar of broken boulders split from rocky shoulders, + </div> + <div class="line"> + In the thunder of snow sliding, or under the appalling + </div> + <div class="line"> + Rending of glacier ice or hoarse cataracts falling: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I knew not what could save me but the unholy guiding + </div> + <div class="line"> + That some demon gave me. Thrice I fell, and thrice + </div> + <div class="line"> + In torrents of blue ice-water slipp'd and was toss'd + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like a dead leaf, or a ghost + </div> + <div class="line"> + Harried by thin bufferings of wind + </div> + <div class="line"> + Downward to Tartarus at daybreak, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Downward to the regions of the lost.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + But the rushing waters ceased, and the bitter wind fell: + </div> + <div class="line"> + How I cannot tell, unless that I had come + </div> + <div class="line"> + To the hollow heart of the storm where the wind is dumb; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And there my gelid blood thawed, glowed, and grew warm, + </div> + <div class="line"> + While a black-hooded form caught at my arm, and stayed + </div> + <div class="line"> + And held me as I swayed, until, at last, I saw + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a strange unworldly awe, at the gate of light I stood: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I entered, alone.... + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'Behold a cavern of stone carven, and in the midst + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + A brazier that hissed with tongued flames, leaping + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over whitened embers of gummy frankincense, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into a fume of dense and fragrant vapour, creeping + </div> + <div class="line"> + Over the roof to spread a milky coverlet + </div> + <div class="line"> + Softer than the woof of webby spider's net. + </div> + <div class="line"> + But never spider yet spun a more delicate wonder + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than that which hung thereunder, drooping fold on fold, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Silks that glowed with fire of tawny Oxus gold, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Richer than ever flowed from the eager fancy of man + </div> + <div class="line"> + In his vain desire for beauty that endures: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And on the floor were spread by many a heaped daiwan + </div> + <div class="line"> + Carpets of Kurdistan, cured skins, and water-ewers + </div> + <div class="line"> + Encrusted with such gems as emperors of Hind + </div> + <div class="line"> + (Swart conquerors, long dead) sought for their diadems. + </div> + </div> + <div class="left line-block medium outermost"> + <div class="line"> + No other light was there but one torch, flaring + </div> + <div class="line"> + Against a square of sky possess'd by the wind, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And never another sound but the tongued flames creeping. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'At last, my eyes staring into the clouded gloom, + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Saw that the caverned room with shadowy forms was strewn + </div> + <div class="line"> + In heavy sleep or swoon fallen, who did not move + </div> + <div class="line"> + But lay as mortals lie in the sweet release of love. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And stark between them stood huge eunuchs of ebony, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Mute, motionless, as they had been carven of black wood. + </div> + <div class="line"> + But these I scarcely saw, for, through the flame was seen + </div> + <div class="line"> + Another, a queen, with heavy closèd eyes + </div> + <div class="line"> + White against the skies of that empurpled night + </div> + <div class="line"> + In her loveliness she lay, and leaned upon her hand: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And my blood leapt at the sight, so that I could not stand + </div> + <div class="line"> + But fell upon my knees, pleading, and cried aloud + </div> + <div class="line"> + For her white loveliness as Ixion for his cloud: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And my cry the silence broke, and the sleepers awoke + </div> + <div class="line"> + From their slumber, stirred, and rose every one,--save those + </div> + <div class="line"> + Mute eunuchs of ebony, those frowning caryatides. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Slowly she looked at me, and when I cried again + </div> + <div class="line"> + In yearning and in pain, she beckoned with her hand. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then from my knees rose I, and greatly daring, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Through the hazy air, past the brazier flaring + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the hissing flame, crept, until I came + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unto the carven seat, and kissed her white feet; + </div> + <div class="line"> + And she smiled, but spake not. + </div> + <div class="line"> + When she smiled the sleepers wavered as the grass + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of a cornfield wavers when the ears are swept + </div> + <div class="line"> + By the breath of brown reapers singing as they pass, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or grass of woody glades when a wind that has slept + </div> + <div class="line"> + Wakens, and invades their moonlit solitude, + </div> + <div class="line"> + When the hazels shiver and the birch is blown + </div> + <div class="line"> + To a billow of silver, but oaks in the wood + </div> + <div class="line"> + Stand firm nor quiver, stand firm as stone: + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, amid the sleepers, the black eunuchs stood. + </div> + <div class="line"> + When the sleepers stirred faintly in the heat + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of that painted room a silken sound I heard, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And a thin music, sweet as the brown nightingale + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sings in the jealous shade of a lonely spinney, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Stranger far than any music mortal made + </div> + <div class="line"> + Fell softer than the dew falleth when stars are pale. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sweet it was, and clear as light, or as the tears + </div> + <div class="line"> + That sad Narcissus wears in the spring of the year + </div> + <div class="line"> + On barren mountain ranges where rain falls cool + </div> + <div class="line"> + And every lonely pool is sprayed with broken light: + </div> + <div class="line"> + So cool, so beautiful, and so divinely strange + </div> + <div class="line"> + I doubted if it came from any marshy reed + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or hollow fluting stem pluck'd by the hands of men, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unless it were indeed that airy fugitive + </div> + <div class="line"> + Syrinx, who cried and ran before the laughing eyes + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of goat-footed Pan, and must for ever live + </div> + <div class="line"> + A shadowy green reed by an Arcadian river-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + But never music made of Ladon's reedy daughter + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or singing river-water more sweet than that which stole, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Slow as amber honey wells from the honeycomb, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into my weary soul with solace and strange peace. + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, trembling as I lay in a dream more desolate + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than is the darkened day of the mid-winter north, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I heard the voice of one who sang in a strange tongue, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I know not what he sang save that he sang of love, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The while they led me forth unheeding, till we came + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unto a chamber lit with one slow-burning flame + </div> + <div class="line"> + That yellow horn bedims, and laid me down, and there + </div> + <div class="line"> + They soothed my bruised limbs, and combed my tangled hair, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And salved my limbs with rarely-mingled unguents pressed + </div> + <div class="line"> + By hands of holy ones who dream beneath the suns + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of Araby the Blest, and so, when they had bathed + </div> + <div class="line"> + My burning eyes with milk of dreamy anodyne + </div> + <div class="line"> + And cool'd my throat with wine, + </div> + <div class="line"> + In robings of cool silk my broken body they swathed, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sandals of gold they placed upon my feet, and round + </div> + <div class="line"> + My sad sun-blistered brows a silver fillet bound-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + Decking me with the pride of a bridegroom that goes + </div> + <div class="line"> + To the joy of his bride and is lovely in her eyes-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + And led me to her side. Then, as a conquering prince, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I, who long since had been battered and tost + </div> + <div class="line"> + Like a dead leaf or ghost buffeted by wild storms, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Came to her white arms, conquering, and was lost, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Yet dared not gaze upon the beauty that I dreamed. + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, in my trance, it seemed that a shadowy soft dance + </div> + <div class="line"> + Coiled slowly and unwound, swayed, beckoned, and recovered + </div> + <div class="line"> + As hooded cobra bound by hollow spells of sound + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unto the piper sways; so silently they hovered + </div> + <div class="line"> + I only heard the beat of their naked feet, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And then, another sound.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + A dull throb thrumming, a noise of faint drumming, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Threatening, coming nearer, piercing deeper + </div> + <div class="line"> + Than a dream lost in the heart of a sleeper + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into those deeps where the dark fire gloweth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The secret flame that every man knoweth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Embers that smoulder, fires that none can fan, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Terrible, older than the mind of man.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Before he crawled from his swamp and spurned + </div> + <div class="line"> + The life of the beast that dark fire burned + </div> + <div class="line"> + In the hidden deeps where no dream can come: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Only the throbbing of a drum + </div> + <div class="line"> + Can wake it from its smouldering-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sightless, soundless, senseless, dumb-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + Dumb as those blind seeds that lie + </div> + <div class="line"> + Drown'd in mud, and shuddering, + </div> + <div class="line"> + I knew that I was man no more, + </div> + <div class="line"> + But a throbbing core of flesh, that knew + </div> + <div class="line"> + Nor beauty, nor truth, nor anything + </div> + <div class="line"> + But the black sky and the slimy earth: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Roots of trees, and fear, and pain, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The blank of death, the pangs of birth, + </div> + <div class="line"> + An inhuman thing possess'd + </div> + <div class="line"> + By the throbbing of a drum: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And my lips were strange and numb, + </div> + <div class="line"> + But they kissed her white breast.... + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then, being drunk with pride and splendour of love, I cried: + </div> + <div class="line"> + '"O spring of all delight, O moonèd mystery, + </div> + <div class="line"> + O living marvel, white as the dead queen of night, + </div> + <div class="line"> + O flower, and O flame ... tell me at least thy name + </div> + <div class="line"> + That, from this desolate height, I may proclaim its wonder + </div> + <div class="line"> + To the lost lands hereunder before thy beauty dies + </div> + <div class="line"> + As fades the fire of dawn upon a peak of snow!"' + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then: "Look," she sighed, "into my eyes, and thou shalt know." + </div> + <div class="line"> + So, with her fingers frail, she pressed my brows, and so, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Slowly, at last, she raised my drooping eyelids pale, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And in her eyes I gazed. + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + 'Then fear, than love more blind, + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Caught at my heart and fast in chains of horror bound-- + </div> + <div class="line"> + As one who in profound and midnight forest ways + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sees in the dark the burning eyes of a tiger barred + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or stealthy footed pard blaze in a solemn hate + </div> + <div class="line"> + And lust of human blood, yet cannot cry, nor turning + </div> + <div class="line"> + Flee from the huddled wood, but stands and sees his fate, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or one who in a black night, groping for his track, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Clings to the dizzy verge of a cragged precipice, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Shrinks from the dim abyss, yet dare not venture back, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And no sound hears but the hiss of empty air + </div> + <div class="line"> + Swirling past his ears.... So, in a hideous + </div> + <div class="line"> + Abandonment of hope, I waited for her kiss. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then the restless beat of the muttering drum + </div> + <div class="line"> + Rose to a frenzied heat; the naked dancers leapt + </div> + <div class="line"> + Insolent through the flame, laughing as they came + </div> + <div class="line"> + With parted lips; their cries deadened my ears, my eyes + </div> + <div class="line"> + Throbbed with the pattering of their rapid feet, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the whirling dust of their dancing swept + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into my throat unslaked, dry-parchèd with love's drought, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Until my mouth was pressed upon her burning mouth + </div> + <div class="line"> + In a kiss most terrible.... Oh, was it pride, or shame + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unending, without name, or ecstasy, or pain + </div> + <div class="line"> + Or desperate desire? Alas! I cannot tell, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Save that it pierced my trembling soul and body with fire. + </div> + <div class="line"> + For, while her soft lips clove to mine in love, she drove + </div> + <div class="line"> + A flaming blade of steel into my breast, and I, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Rent with a bitter cry, slid from her side and fell + </div> + <div class="line"> + Clutching in dumb despair the dark unbraided hair + </div> + <div class="line"> + My passion had despoiled; while she, like serpent coiled, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Poised for another stroke, terribly, slowly, smiled, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Saying: "O stranger, red, red are my lips, and sweet + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unto those lips so red are the kisses of the dead: + </div> + <div class="line"> + Far hast thou wandered, far, for the kisses of Thamar." + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then a deep silence fell on the frenzy and the laughter; + </div> + <div class="line"> + The leaping dancers crept to the shadows where they had slept, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And the mute eunuchs stood forth, and hugely bent + </div> + <div class="line"> + Above my body, spent in its pool of blood, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And hove me with black arms, while the queen followed after + </div> + <div class="line"> + With stealthy steps, and eyes that burned into the night + </div> + <div class="line"> + Of my dying brain, till, with her hand, she bade + </div> + <div class="line"> + Them falter, and they stayed, while, eagerly, she propped + </div> + <div class="line"> + My listless head that dropped downward from my shoulders, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And slowly raised it up, raised it like a cup + </div> + <div class="line"> + Unto her lips again, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Then shuddered, trembled, shrunk, as though her mouth had drunk + </div> + <div class="line"> + A potion where the fell fire of poison smoulders. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And a darkness came, and I could see no more, + </div> + <div class="line"> + But in my ears the roar of lonely torrents swelled + </div> + <div class="line"> + And stilled my breath for ever, as though a wave appalling + </div> + <div class="line"> + Had broken in my brain, and deep to deep were calling: + </div> + <div class="line"> + And I felt my body falling down and down and down + </div> + <div class="line"> + Into a blank of death, where dumb waters roll + </div> + <div class="line"> + Endlessly, only knowing, that her dagger had stabbed my breast, + </div> + <div class="line"> + But her kiss had killed my soul. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And now I know no rest until again I stand + </div> + <div class="line"> + Where that lost city's towers rise from the dreamy sand, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Until I reach the gate where the lips of Asia wait, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Till I cross the desert's drought, and the rivers of the south, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And shiver through the night under those summits white + </div> + <div class="line"> + That soar above Cathay; until I see the light + </div> + <div class="line"> + Flame from those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star + </div> + <div class="line"> + In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar.' + </div> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="large left pfirst" id="envoi">ENVOI</p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Now that the hour has come, and under the lonely + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + Darkness I stumble at the doors of death, + </div> + <div class="line"> + It is not hope, nor faith + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + That here my spirit sustaineth, but love only. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + In visions, in love: only there have I clutched at divinity: + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + But the vision fadeth; yet love fades not: and for this + </div> + <div class="line"> + I would have you know that your kiss + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Was more to me than all my hopes of infinity. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + Therein you made me divine ... you, who were moon and sun for me, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + You, for whose beauty I would have forsaken the splendour of the stars + </div> + <div class="line"> + And my shadowy avatars + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + Renounced: for there is nothing in the world you have not done for me. + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + So that when at length all sentient skill hath forsaken me, + </div> + <div class="inner line-block"> + <div class="line"> + And the bright world beats vainly on my consciousness, + </div> + <div class="line"> + Your beauty shineth no less: + </div> + </div> + <div class="line"> + And even if I were dead I think your shadow would awaken me. + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"></div><!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> + <div class="backmatter"></div> + <div class="cleardoublepage"></div> + </div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40344 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/40344-h/40344-h.html b/40344-h/40344-h.html deleted file mode 100644 index bde3c1f..0000000 --- a/40344-h/40344-h.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3469 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?> -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC '-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN' 'http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd'> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>POEMS</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="Poems" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Francis Brett Young" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1919" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="40344" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2012-07-26" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="Poems 1916-1918" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="Poems 1916-1918" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="poems.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2012-07-27T03:20:14.395994+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40344" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Francis Brett Young" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2012-07-26" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.19b4 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="poems"> -<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">POEMS</h1> - -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en noindent pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst">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 <a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a> -included with this eBook or online at -<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a>.</p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container noindent white-space-pre-line" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="white-space-pre-line">Title: Poems<br /> - 1916-1918<br /> -<br /> -Author: Francis Brett Young<br /> -<br /> -Release Date: July 26, 2012 [EBook #40344]<br /> -<br /> -Language: English<br /> -<br /> -Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line">*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>POEMS</span> ***</p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="width: 46%" id="figure-6"> -<span id="cover"></span><img class="align-center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption figure"> -Cover</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container titlepage white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line x-large">POEMS</p> -<p class="large pnext white-space-pre-line">1916-1918</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">BY</p> -<p class="large pnext white-space-pre-line">FRANCIS BRETT YOUNG</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">LONDON: 48 PALL MALL<br /> -W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD.<br /> -GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container verso white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="center pfirst small white-space-pre-line">Copyright 1919</p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> -<p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Novels:</em></p> -<p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line"> THE YOUNG PHYSICIAN<br /> - THE CRESCENT MOON<br /> - THE IRON AGE<br /> - THE DARK TOWER<br /> - DEEP SEA<br /> - UNDERGROWTH (with E. Brett Young)</p> -<div class="left medium vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<p class="left medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Poems:</em></p> -<p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line"> FIVE DEGREES SOUTH</p> -<div class="left medium vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<p class="left medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Belles Lettres:</em></p> -<p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line"> ROBERT BRIDGES: A Critical Study<br /> - MARCHING ON TANGA</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">TO<br /> -EDYTH GOODALL</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="left medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Remember thus our sweet conspiracy:<br /> -That I, having dreamed a lovely thing, with dull<br /> -Words marred it--and you gave it back to me<br /> -A thousand, thousand times more beautiful.</em></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">ERRATA</p> -<p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line">Page 26, line 17, <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">for</em> "Lybian" <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">read</em> "Libyan."<br /> -Page 46, line 9, <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">for</em> "lythe" <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">read</em> "lithe."<br /> -Page 70, line 13, <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">for</em> "tyrranous" <em class="italics white-space-pre-line">read</em> "tyrannous."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="left medium pfirst">[Transcriber's note: the above errata have been applied -to this etext. The word "Lybia" was also on page 32, -and was corrected as above. Similarly, "tyrranous" -was also on page 86, and was corrected.]</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CONTENTS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="left medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#prothalamion">PROTHALAMION</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#testament">TESTAMENT</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#lochanilaun">LOCHANILAUN</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#lettermore">LETTERMORE</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#lament">LAMENT</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-lemon-tree">THE LEMON-TREE</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#phthonos">PHTHONOS</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#easter">EASTER</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-leaning-elm">THE LEANING ELM</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-joyous-lover">THE JOYOUS LOVER</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#dead-poets">DEAD POETS</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#porton-water">PORTON WATER</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#an-old-house">AN OLD HOUSE</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-dhows">THE DHOWS</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-gift">THE GIFT</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#five-degrees-south">FIVE DEGREES SOUTH</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#fahrenheit">104° FAHRENHEIT</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#fever-trees">FEVER-TREES</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-rain-bird">THE RAIN-BIRD</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#moths">MOTHS</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#bete-humaine">BÊTE HUMAINE</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#doves">DOVES</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#song-i">SONG (i)</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#before-action">BEFORE ACTION</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#on-a-subaltern-killed-in-action">ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#after-action">AFTER ACTION</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#sonnet">SONNET</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#a-farewell-to-africa">A FAREWELL TO AFRICA</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#song-ii">SONG (ii)</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-hawthorn-spray">THE HAWTHORN SPRAY</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-pavement">THE PAVEMENT</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#to-lydia-lopokova-i">TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (i)</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#to-lydia-lopokova-ii">TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (ii)</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#to-lydia-lopokova-iii">TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (iii)</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#ghostly-loves">GHOSTLY LOVES</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#february">FEBRUARY</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#song-of-the-dark-ages">SONG OF THE DARK AGES</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#winter-sunset">WINTER SUNSET</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#song-iii">SONG (iii)</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#england-april-1918">ENGLAND, APRIL 1918</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#slender-themes">SLENDER THEMES</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#invocation">INVOCATION</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#thamar">THAMAR</a><br /> -<a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#envoi">ENVOI</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="prothalamion">PROTHALAMION</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">When the evening came my love said to me:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Let us go into the garden now that the sky is cool,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">The garden of black hellebore and rosemary,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Where wild woodruff spills in a milky pool.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Low we passed in the twilight, for the wavering heat</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Of day had waned, and round that shaded plot</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Of secret beauty the thickets clustered sweet:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Here is heaven, our hearts whispered, but our lips spake not.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Between that old garden and seas of lazy foam</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Gloomy and beautiful alleys of trees arise</div> -</div> -<div class="line">With spire of cypress and dreamy beechen dome,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">So dark that our enchanted sight knew nothing but the skies</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Veiled with soft air, drench'd in the roses' musk</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Or the dusky, dark carnation's breath of clove;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">No stars burned in their deeps, but through the dusk</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">I saw my love's eyes, and they were brimmed with love.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">No star their secret ravished, no wasting moon</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Mocked the sad transience of those eternal hours:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Only the soft, unseeing heaven of June,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The ghosts of great trees, and the sleeping flowers.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">For doves that crooned in the leafy noonday now</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Were silent; the night-jar sought his secret covers,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Nor even a mild sea-whisper moved a creaking bough--</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Was ever a silence deeper made for lovers?</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Was ever a moment meeter made for love?</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Beautiful are your closed lips beneath my kiss;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And all your yielding sweetness beautiful--</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Oh, never in all the world was such a night as this!</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="testament">TESTAMENT</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">If I had died, and never seen the dawn</div> -<div class="line">For which I hardly hoped, lighting this lawn</div> -<div class="line">Of silvery grasses; if there had been no light,</div> -<div class="line">And last night merged into perpetual night;</div> -<div class="line">I doubt if I should ever have been content</div> -<div class="line">To have closed my eyes without some testament</div> -<div class="line">To the great benefits that marked my faring</div> -<div class="line">Through the sweet world; for all my joy was sharing</div> -<div class="line">And lonely pleasures were few. Unto which end</div> -<div class="line">Three legacies I'll send,</div> -<div class="line">Three legacies, already half possess'd:</div> -<div class="line">One to a friend, of all good friends the best,</div> -<div class="line">Better than which is nothing; yet another</div> -<div class="line">Unto thy twin, dissimilar spirit, Brother;</div> -<div class="line">The third to you,</div> -<div class="line">Most beautiful, most true,</div> -<div class="line">Most perfect one, to whom they all are due.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Quick, quick ... while there is time....</div> -<div class="line">O best of friends, I leave you one sublime</div> -<div class="line">Summer, one fadeless summer. 'Twas begun</div> -<div class="line">Ere Cotswold hawthorn tarnished in the sun,</div> -<div class="line">When hedges were fledged with green, and early swallows</div> -<div class="line">Swift-darting, on curved wings, pillaged the fallows;</div> -<div class="line">When all our vale was dappled blossom and light,</div> -<div class="line">And oh, the scent of beanfields in the night!</div> -<div class="line">You shall remember that rich dust at even</div> -<div class="line">Which made old Evesham like a street in heaven,</div> -<div class="line">Gold-paved, and washed within a wave of golden</div> -<div class="line">Air all her dreamy towers and gables olden.</div> -<div class="line">You shall remember</div> -<div class="line">How arms sun-blistered, hot palms crack'd with rowing,</div> -<div class="line">Clove the cool water of Avon, sweetly flowing;</div> -<div class="line">And how our bodies, beautifully white,</div> -<div class="line">Stretch'd to a long stroke lengthened in green light,</div> -<div class="line">And we, emerging, laughed in childish wise,</div> -<div class="line">And pressed the kissing water from our eyes.</div> -<div class="line">Ah, was our laughter childish, or were we wise?</div> -<div class="line">And then, crown of the day, a tired returning</div> -<div class="line">With happy sunsets over Bredon burning,</div> -<div class="line">With music and with moonlight, and good ale,</div> -<div class="line">And no thought for the morrow.... Heavy phlox</div> -<div class="line">Our garden pathways bordered, and evening stocks,</div> -<div class="line">Those humble weeds, in sunlight withered and pale,</div> -<div class="line">With a night scent to match the nightingale,</div> -<div class="line">Gladdened with spicèd sweetness sweet night's shadows,</div> -<div class="line">Meeting the breath of hay from mowing meadows:</div> -<div class="line">As humble was our joy, and as intense</div> -<div class="line">Our rapture. So, before I hurry hence,</div> -<div class="line">Yours be the memory.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">One night again,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">When we were men, and had striven, and known pain,</div> -<div class="line">By a dark canal debating, unresigned,</div> -<div class="line">On the blind fate that shadows humankind,</div> -<div class="line">On the blind sword that severs human love...</div> -<div class="line">Then did the hidden belfry from above</div> -<div class="line">On troubled minds in benediction shed</div> -<div class="line">The patience of the great anonymous dead</div> -<div class="line">Who reared those towers, those high cathedrals builded</div> -<div class="line">In solemn stone, and with clear fancy gilded</div> -<div class="line">A beauty beyond ours, trusting in God.</div> -<div class="line">Then dared we follow the dark way they trod,</div> -<div class="line">And bowing to the universal plan</div> -<div class="line">Trust in the true and fiery spirit of Man.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And you, my Brother,</div> -<div class="line">You know, as knows one other,</div> -<div class="line">How my spirit revisiteth a room</div> -<div class="line">In a high wing, beneath pine-trees, where gloom</div> -<div class="line">Dwelleth, dispelled by resinous wood embers,</div> -<div class="line">Where, in half-darkness ... How the heart remembers...</div> -<div class="line">We talked of beauty, and those fiery things</div> -<div class="line">To which the divine desirous spirit clings,</div> -<div class="line">In a wing'd rapture to that heaven flinging,</div> -<div class="line">Where beauty is an easy thing, and singing</div> -<div class="line">The natural speech of man. Like kissing swords</div> -<div class="line">Our wits clashed there; the brittle beauty of words</div> -<div class="line">Breaking, seemed to discover its secret heart</div> -<div class="line">And all the rapt elusiveness of Art.</div> -<div class="line">Now I have known sorrow, and now I sing</div> -<div class="line">That a lovely word is not an idle thing;</div> -<div class="line">For as with stars the cloth of night is spangled,</div> -<div class="line">With star-like words, most lovelily entangled,</div> -<div class="line">The woof of sombre thought is deckt.... Ah, bright</div> -<div class="line">And cold they glitter in the spirit's night!</div> -<div class="line">But neither distant nor dispassionate;</div> -<div class="line">For beauty is an armour against fate....</div> -<div class="line">I tell you, who have stood in the dark alone.</div> -<div class="line">Seeing the face that turneth all to stone,</div> -<div class="line">Medusa, blind with hate,</div> -<div class="line">While I was dying, Beauty sate with me</div> -<div class="line">Nor tortured any longer; gracious was she;</div> -<div class="line">To her soft words I listened, and was content</div> -<div class="line">To die, nor sorry that my light was spent.</div> -<div class="line">So, Brother, if I come not home,</div> -<div class="line">Go to that little room</div> -<div class="line">That my spirit revisiteth, and there,</div> -<div class="line">Somewhere in the blue air, you shall discover</div> -<div class="line">If that you be a lover</div> -<div class="line">Nor haughtily minded, all that once half-shaped</div> -<div class="line">Then fled us, and escaped:</div> -<div class="line">All that I found that day,</div> -<div class="line">Far, so far away.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And you, my lovely one,</div> -<div class="line">What can I leave to you, who, you having left,</div> -<div class="line">Am utterly bereft?</div> -<div class="line">What in my store of visionary dowers</div> -<div class="line">Is not already yours?</div> -<div class="line">What silences, what hours</div> -<div class="line">Of peace passing all understanding; days</div> -<div class="line">Made lyric by your beauty and its praise;</div> -<div class="line">Years neither time can tarnish, nor death mar,</div> -<div class="line">Wherein you shined as steadfast as a star</div> -<div class="line">In my bleak night, heedless of the cloud-wrack</div> -<div class="line">Scudding in torn fleeces black</div> -<div class="line">Of my dark moods, as those who rule the far</div> -<div class="line">Star-haunted pleasaunces of heaven are?</div> -<div class="line">So think but lightly of that afternoon</div> -<div class="line">With white clouds climbing a blue sky in June</div> -<div class="line">When a boy worshipped under dreaming trees,</div> -<div class="line">Who touched your hand, and sought your eyes.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">... Ah, cease,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Not these, not these...</div> -<div class="line">Nor yet those nights when icy Brathay thundered</div> -<div class="line">Under his bridges, and ghostly mountains wondered</div> -<div class="line">At the white blossoming of a Christmas rose</div> -<div class="line">More stainless than their snows;</div> -<div class="line">Nor even of those placid days together</div> -<div class="line">Mellow as early autumn's amber weather</div> -<div class="line">When beech is ankleted with fire, and old</div> -<div class="line">Elms wear their livery of yellow gold,</div> -<div class="line">When orchards all are laden with increase,</div> -<div class="line">And the quiet earth hath fruited, and knows peace</div> -<div class="line">Oh, think not overmuch on those sweet years</div> -<div class="line">Lest their last fruit be tears,--</div> -<div class="line">Your tears, beloved, that were my utmost pain,--</div> -<div class="line">But rather, dream again</div> -<div class="line">How that a lover, half poet and half child,</div> -<div class="line">An eager spirit of fragile fancies wild</div> -<div class="line">Compact, adored the beauty and truth in you:</div> -<div class="line">To your own truth be true;</div> -<div class="line">And when, not mournfully, you turn this page</div> -<div class="line">Consider still your starry heritage,</div> -<div class="line">Continue in your loveliness, a star</div> -<div class="line">To gladden me from afar</div> -<div class="line">Even where there is no light</div> -<div class="line">In my last night.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="lochanilaun">LOCHANILAUN</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">This is the image of my last content:</div> -<div class="line">My soul shall be a little lonely lake,</div> -<div class="line">So hidden that no shadow of man may break</div> -<div class="line">The folding of its mountain battlement;</div> -<div class="line">Only the beautiful and innocent</div> -<div class="line">Whiteness of sea-born cloud drooping to shake</div> -<div class="line">Cool rain upon the reed-beds, or the wake</div> -<div class="line">Of churn'd cloud in a howling wind's descent.</div> -<div class="line">For there shall be no terror in the night</div> -<div class="line">When stars that I have loved are born in me,</div> -<div class="line">And cloudy darkness I will hold most fair;</div> -<div class="line">But this shall be the end of my delight:</div> -<div class="line">That you, my lovely one, may stoop and see</div> -<div class="line">Your image in the mirrored beauty there.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="lettermore">LETTERMORE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">These winter days on Lettermore</div> -<div class="line">The brown west wind it sweeps the bay,</div> -<div class="line">And icy rain beats on the bare</div> -<div class="line">Unhomely fields that perish there:</div> -<div class="line">The stony fields of Lettermore</div> -<div class="line">That drink the white Atlantic spray.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And men who starve on Lettermore,</div> -<div class="line">Cursing the haggard, hungry surf,</div> -<div class="line">Will souse the autumn's bruisèd grains</div> -<div class="line">To light dark fires within their brains</div> -<div class="line">And fight with stones on Lettermore</div> -<div class="line">Or sprawl beside the smoky turf.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">When spring blows over Lettermore</div> -<div class="line">To bloom the ragged furze with gold,</div> -<div class="line">The lovely south wind's living breath</div> -<div class="line">Is laden with the smell of death:</div> -<div class="line">For fever breeds on Lettermore</div> -<div class="line">To waste the eyes of young and old.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">A black van comes to Lettermore;</div> -<div class="line">The horses stumble on the stones,</div> -<div class="line">The drivers curse,--for it is hard</div> -<div class="line">To cross the hills from Oughterard</div> -<div class="line">And cart the sick from Lettermore:</div> -<div class="line">A stinking load of rags and bones.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">But you will go to Lettermore</div> -<div class="line">When white sea-trout are on the run,</div> -<div class="line">When purple glows between the rocks</div> -<div class="line">About Lord Dudley's fishing-box</div> -<div class="line">Adown the road to Lettermore,</div> -<div class="line">And wide seas tarnish in the sun.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And so you'll think of Lettermore</div> -<div class="line">As a lost island of the blest:</div> -<div class="line">With peasant lovers in a blue</div> -<div class="line">Dim dusk, with heather drench'd in dew,</div> -<div class="line">And the sweet peace of Lettermore</div> -<div class="line">Remote and dreaming in the West.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="lament">LAMENT</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Once, I think, a finer fire</div> -<div class="line">Touched my lips, and then I sang</div> -<div class="line">Half the songs of my desire:</div> -<div class="line">With their splendour the world rang.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And their sweetness made me free</div> -<div class="line">Of those starry ways whereby</div> -<div class="line">Planets make their minstrelsy</div> -<div class="line">In echoing, unending sky.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">So, before that spell was broken,</div> -<div class="line">Song of the wind, surge of the sea,--</div> -<div class="line">Beautiful passionate things unspoken</div> -<div class="line">Rose like a breaking wave in me:</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Rose like a wave with curled crest</div> -<div class="line">That green sunlight splinters through...</div> -<div class="line">But the wave broke within my breast:</div> -<div class="line">And now I am a man like you.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="the-lemon-tree">THE LEMON-TREE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Last night, last night, a vision of you</div> -<div class="line">Sweetly troubled my waking dream:</div> -<div class="line">Beneath the clear Algerian blue</div> -<div class="line">You stood with lifted eyes: the beam</div> -<div class="line">Of a winter sun beat on the crown</div> -<div class="line">Of a lemon-tree, whose delicate fruit</div> -<div class="line">Like pale lamps hung airily down;</div> -<div class="line">And in your gazing eyes a mute</div> -<div class="line">And lovely wonder.... Have I sung</div> -<div class="line">Of slender things and naught beside?</div> -<div class="line">You were so beautifully young</div> -<div class="line">I must have kissed you or have died.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="large left line-block outermost" id="phthonos"> -<div class="line">PHTHONOS</div> -</div> -<div class="large left line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">If, in high jealousy, God made me blind</div> -<div class="line">And laughed to see me stumble in the night,</div> -<div class="line">Driving his many-splintered arrows of light</div> -<div class="line">Into that lost dominion of my mind;</div> -<div class="line">Then, knowing me still unvext and unresigned,</div> -<div class="line">Stole from my ears all homely sounds that might</div> -<div class="line">Temper the darkness, saying, in heaven's despite,</div> -<div class="line">I had not wholly left the world behind;</div> -<div class="line">So, sunless, soundless, if, to make an end,</div> -<div class="line">He smote the nerves that move, the nerves that feel:</div> -<div class="line">Even then, O jealous one, I would not complain</div> -<div class="line">If I were spared the wealth I cannot spend,</div> -<div class="line">If I were left the treasure none can steal:</div> -<div class="line">The lovely words that wander through my brain.</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="easter">EASTER</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Adown our lane at Eastertide</div> -<div class="line">Hosts of dancing bluebells lay</div> -<div class="line">In pools of light: and 'Oh,' you cried,</div> -<div class="line">'Look, look at them: I think that they</div> -<div class="line">Are bluer than the laughing sea,'</div> -<div class="line">And 'Look!' you cried, 'a piece of the sky</div> -<div class="line">Has fallen down for you and me</div> -<div class="line">To gaze upon and love.' ... And I,</div> -<div class="line">Seeing in your eyes the dancing blue</div> -<div class="line">And in your heart the innocent birth</div> -<div class="line">Of a pure delight, I knew, I knew</div> -<div class="line">That heaven had fallen upon earth.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="the-leaning-elm">THE LEANING ELM</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Before my window, in days of winter hoar</div> -<div class="line">Huddled a mournful wood:</div> -<div class="line">Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore,</div> -<div class="line">In stony sleep they stood:</div> -<div class="line">But you, unhappy elm, the angry west</div> -<div class="line">Had chosen from the rest,</div> -<div class="line">Flung broken on your brothers' branches bare,</div> -<div class="line">And left you leaning there</div> -<div class="line">So dead that when the breath of winter cast</div> -<div class="line">Wild snow upon the blast,</div> -<div class="line">The other living branches, downward bowed,</div> -<div class="line">Shook free their crystal shroud</div> -<div class="line">And shed upon your blackened trunk beneath,</div> -<div class="line">Their livery of death....</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">On windless nights between the beechen bars</div> -<div class="line">I watched cold stars</div> -<div class="line">Throb whitely in the sky, and dreamily</div> -<div class="line">Wondered if any life lay locked in thee:</div> -<div class="line">If still the hidden sap secretly moved,</div> -<div class="line">As water in the icy winterbourne</div> -<div class="line">Floweth unheard;</div> -<div class="line">And half I pitied you your trance forlorn:</div> -<div class="line">You could not hear, I thought, the voice of any bird,</div> -<div class="line">The shadowy cries of bats in dim twilight</div> -<div class="line">Or cool voices of owls crying by night....</div> -<div class="line">Hunting by night under the hornèd moon:</div> -<div class="line">Yet half I envied you your wintry swoon,</div> -<div class="line">Till, on this morning mild, the sun, new-risen</div> -<div class="line">Steals from his misty prison;</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The frozen fallows glow, the black trees shaken</div> -<div class="line">In a clear flood of sunlight vibrating awaken:</div> -<div class="line">And lo, your ravaged bole, beyond belief</div> -<div class="line">Slenderly fledged anew with tender leaf</div> -<div class="line">As pale as those twin vanes that break at last</div> -<div class="line">In a tiny fan above the black beech-mast</div> -<div class="line">Where no blade springeth green</div> -<div class="line">But pallid bells of the shy helleborine.</div> -<div class="line">What is this ecstasy that overwhelms</div> -<div class="line">The dreaming earth? See, the embrownèd elms</div> -<div class="line">Crowding purple distances warm the depths of the wood;</div> -<div class="line">A new-born wind tosses their tassels brown,</div> -<div class="line">His white clouds dapple the down;</div> -<div class="line">Into a green flame bursting the hedgerows stand;</div> -<div class="line">Soon, with banners flying, Spring will walk the land....</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">There is no day for thee, my soul, like this,</div> -<div class="line">No spring of lovely words. Nay, even the kiss</div> -<div class="line">Of mortal love that maketh man divine</div> -<div class="line">This light cannot outshine:</div> -<div class="line">Nay, even poets, they whose frail hands catch</div> -<div class="line">The shadow of vanishing beauty, may not match</div> -<div class="line">This leafy ecstasy. Sweet words may cull</div> -<div class="line">Such magical beauty as time may not destroy;</div> -<div class="line">But we, alas, are not more beautiful:</div> -<div class="line">We cannot flower in beauty as in joy.</div> -<div class="line">We sing, our musèd words are sped, and then</div> -<div class="line">Poets are only men</div> -<div class="line">Who age, and toil, and sicken.... This maim'd tree</div> -<div class="line">May stand in leaf when I have ceased to be.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="the-joyous-lover">THE JOYOUS LOVER</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">O, now that I am free as the air</div> -<div class="line">And fleet as clouds above,</div> -<div class="line">I will wander everywhere</div> -<div class="line">Over the ways I love.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Lightly, lightly will I pass</div> -<div class="line">Nor scatter as I go</div> -<div class="line">A shadow on the blowing grass</div> -<div class="line">Or a footprint in the snow.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">All the wild things of the wood</div> -<div class="line">That once were timid and shy</div> -<div class="line">They shall not flee their solitude</div> -<div class="line">For fear, when I pass by;</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And beauty, beauty, the wide world over,</div> -<div class="line">Shall blush when I draw near:</div> -<div class="line">She knows her lover, the joyous lover,</div> -<div class="line">And greets him without fear.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">But if I come to the dark room</div> -<div class="line">From which our love hath fled</div> -<div class="line">And bend above you in the gloom</div> -<div class="line">Or kneel beside your bed,</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Smile soft in your sleep, my beautiful one,</div> -<div class="line">For if you should say 'Nay'</div> -<div class="line">To the dream which visiteth you alone,</div> -<div class="line">My joy would wither away.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="dead-poets">DEAD POETS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">ODE WRITTEN AT WILTON HOUSE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Last night, amazed, I trod on holy ground</div> -<div class="line">Breathing an air that ancient poets knew,</div> -<div class="line">Where, in a valley compassed with sweet sound,</div> -<div class="line">Beneath a garden's alley'd shades of yew,</div> -<div class="line">With eager feet passèd that singer sweet</div> -<div class="line">Who Stella loved, whom bloody Zutphen slew</div> -<div class="line">In the starred zenith of his knightly fame.</div> -<div class="line">There too a dark-stoled figure I did meet:</div> -<div class="line">Herbert, whose faith burned true</div> -<div class="line">And steadfast as the altar candle's flame.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Under the Wilton cedars, pondering</div> -<div class="line">Upon the pains of Beauty and the wrong</div> -<div class="line">That sealeth lovely lips, fated to sing,</div> -<div class="line">Before they reach the cadence of their song,</div> -<div class="line">I mused upon dead poets: mighty ones</div> -<div class="line">Who sang and suffered: briefly heard were they</div> -<div class="line">As Libyan nightingales weary of wing</div> -<div class="line">Fleeing the temper of Saharan suns</div> -<div class="line">To gladden our moon'd May,</div> -<div class="line">And with the broken blossom vanishing.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">So to my eyes a sorrowful vision came</div> -<div class="line">Of one whose name was writ in water: bright</div> -<div class="line">His cheeks and eyes burned with a hectic flame;</div> -<div class="line">And one, alas! I saw whose passionate might</div> -<div class="line">Was spent upon a fevered fen in Greece;</div> -<div class="line">One shade there was who, starving, choked with bread;</div> -<div class="line">One, a drown'd corpse, through stormy water slips;</div> -<div class="line">One in the numbing poppy-juice found peace;</div> -<div class="line">And one, a youth, lay dead</div> -<div class="line">With powdered arsenic upon his lips.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">O bitter were the sorrow that could dull</div> -<div class="line">The sombre music of slow evening</div> -<div class="line">Here, where the old world is so beautiful</div> -<div class="line">That even lesser lips are moved to sing</div> -<div class="line">How the wide heron sails into the light</div> -<div class="line">Black as the cedarn shadows on the lawns</div> -<div class="line">Or stricken woodlands patient in decay,</div> -<div class="line">And river water murmurs through the night</div> -<div class="line">Until autumnal dawns</div> -<div class="line">Burn in the glass of Nadder's watery way.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Nay, these were they by whom the world was lost,</div> -<div class="line">To whom the world most richly gave: forlorn</div> -<div class="line">Beauty they worshipp'd, counting not the cost</div> -<div class="line">If of their torment beauty might be born;</div> -<div class="line">And life, the splendid flower of their delight,</div> -<div class="line">Loving too eagerly, they broke, and spill'd</div> -<div class="line">The perfume that the folded petals close</div> -<div class="line">Before its prime; yet their frail fingers white</div> -<div class="line">From that bruised bloom distill'd</div> -<div class="line">Uttermost attar of the living rose.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Wherefore, O shining ones, I will not mourn</div> -<div class="line">You, who have ravish'd beauty's secret ways</div> -<div class="line">Beneath death's impotent shadow, suffering scorn,</div> -<div class="line">Hatred, and desolation in her praise....</div> -<div class="line">Thus as I spoke their phantom faces smiled,</div> -<div class="line">As brooding night with heavy downward wing</div> -<div class="line">Fell upon Wilton's elegiac stone,</div> -<div class="line">On the dark woodlands and the waters wild</div> -<div class="line">And every living thing--</div> -<div class="line">Leaving me there amazèd and alone.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="porton-water">PORTON WATER</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Through Porton village, under the bridge,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">A clear bourne floweth, with grasses trailing,</div> -<div class="line">Wherein are shadows of white clouds sailing,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And elms that shelter under the ridge.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Through Porton village we passed one day,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Marching the plain for mile on mile,</div> -<div class="line">And crossed the bridge in single file,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Happily singing, and marched away</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Over the bridge where the shallow races,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Under a clear and frosty sky:</div> -<div class="line">And the winterbourne, as we marched by,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Mirrored a thousand laughing faces.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">O, do we trouble you, Porton river,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">We who laughing passed, and after</div> -<div class="line">Found a resting-place for laughter?</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Over here, where the poplars shiver</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">By stagnant waters, we lie rotten.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">On windless nights, in the lonely places,</div> -<div class="line">There, where the winter water races,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">O, Porton river, are we forgotten?</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Through Porton village, under the bridge,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The clear bourne floweth with grasses trailing,</div> -<div class="line">Wherein are shadows of light cloud sailing,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And elms that shelter under the ridge.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The pale moon she comes and looks;</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Over the lonely spire she climbs;</div> -<div class="line">For there she is lovelier many times</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Than in the little broken brooks.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="an-old-house">AN OLD HOUSE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">No one lives in the old house; long ago</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The voices of men and women left it lonely.</div> -</div> -<div class="line">They shuttered the sightless windows in a row,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Imprisoning empty darkness--darkness only.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Beyond the garden-closes, with sudden thunder</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The lumbering troop-train passing clanks and jangles;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And I, a stranger, peer with careless wonder</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Into the thickets of the garden tangles.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Yet, as I pass, a transient vision dawns</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Ghostly upon my pondering spirit's gloom,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Of grey lavender bushes and weedy lawns</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And a solitary cherry-tree in bloom....</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">No one lives in the old house: year by year</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The plaster crumbles on the lonely walls:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">The apple falls in the lush grass; the pear,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Pulpy with ripeness, on the pathway falls.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Yet this the garden was, where, on spring nights</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Under the cherry-blossom, lovers plighted</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Have wondered at the moony billows white,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Dreaming uncountable springs by love delighted;</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Whose ears have heard the blackbird's jolly whistle,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The shadowy cries of bats in twilight flitting</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Zigzag beneath the eaves; or, on the thistle,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The twitter of autumn birds swinging and sitting;</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Whose eyes, on winter evenings, slow returning</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Saw on the frosted paths pale lamplight fall</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Streaming, or, on the hearth, red embers burning,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And shadows of children playing in the hall.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Where have they gone, lovers of another day?</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">(No one lives in the old house; long ago</div> -</div> -<div class="line">They shuttered the sightless windows....) Where are they,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Whose eyes delighted in this moony snow?</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">I cannot tell ... and little enough they care,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Though April spray the cherry-boughs with light,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And autumn pile her harvest unaware</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Under the walls that echoed their delight.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">I cannot tell ... yet I am as those lovers;</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">For me, who pass on my predestinate way,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">The prodigal blossom billows and recovers</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">In ghostly gardens a hundred miles away.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Yet, in my heart, a melancholy rapture</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Tells me that eyes, which now an iron haste</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Hurries to iron days, may here recapture</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">A vision of ancient loveliness gone to waste.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="the-dhows">THE DHOWS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">South of Guardafui with a dark tide flowing</div> -<div class="line">We hailed two ships with tattered canvas bent to the monsoon,</div> -<div class="line">Hung betwixt the outer sea and pale surf showing</div> -<div class="line">Where dead cities of Libya lay bleaching in the moon.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">'Oh whither be ye sailing with torn sails broken?'</div> -<div class="line">'We sail, we sail for Sheba, at Suliman's behest,</div> -<div class="line">With carven silver phalli for the ebony maids of Ophir</div> -<div class="line">From brown-skinned baharias of Arabia the Blest.'</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">'Oh whither be ye sailing, with your dark flag flying?'</div> -<div class="line">'We sail, with creaking cedar, towards the Northern Star.</div> -<div class="line">The helmsman singeth wearily, and in our hold are lying</div> -<div class="line">A hundred slaves in shackles from the marts of Zanzibar.'</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">'Oh whither be ye sailing...?'</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'Alas, we sail no longer:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Our hulls are wrack, our sails are dust, as any man might know.</div> -<div class="line">And why should you torment us? ... Your iron keels are stronger</div> -<div class="line">Than ghostly ships that sailed from Tyre a thousand years ago.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="the-gift">THE GIFT</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Marching on Tanga, marching the parch'd plain</div> -<div class="line">Of wavering spear-grass past Pangani River,</div> -<div class="line">England came to me--me who had always ta'en</div> -<div class="line">But never given before--England, the giver,</div> -<div class="line">In a vision of three poplar-trees that shiver</div> -<div class="line">On still evenings of summer, after rain,</div> -<div class="line">By Slapton Ley, where reed-beds start and quiver</div> -<div class="line">When scarce a ripple moves the upland grain.</div> -<div class="line">Then I thanked God that now I had suffered pain,</div> -<div class="line">And, as the parch'd plain, thirst, and lain awake</div> -<div class="line">Shivering all night through till cold daybreak:</div> -<div class="line">In that I count these sufferings my gain</div> -<div class="line">And her acknowledgment. Nay, more, would fain</div> -<div class="line">Suffer as many more for her sweet sake.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="five-degrees-south">FIVE DEGREES SOUTH</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">I love all waves and lovely water in motion,</div> -<div class="line">That wavering iris in comb of the blown spray:</div> -<div class="line">Iris of tumbled nautilus in the wake's commotion,</div> -<div class="line">Their spread sails dipped in a marmoreal way</div> -<div class="line">Unquarried, wherein are greeny bubbles blowing</div> -<div class="line">Plumes of faint spray, cool in the deep</div> -<div class="line">And lucent seas, that pause not in their flowing</div> -<div class="line">To lap the southern starlight while they sleep.</div> -<div class="line">These I have seen, these I have loved and known:</div> -<div class="line">I have seen Jupiter, that great star, swinging</div> -<div class="line">Like a ship's lantern, silent and alone</div> -<div class="line">Within his sea of sky, and heard the singing</div> -<div class="line">Of the south trade, that siren of the air,</div> -<div class="line">Who shivers the taut shrouds, and singeth there.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="fahrenheit">104° FAHRENHEIT</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">To-night I lay with fever in my veins</div> -<div class="line">Consumed, tormented creature of fire and ice,</div> -<div class="line">And, weaving the enhavock'd brain's device,</div> -<div class="line">Dreamed that for evermore I must walk these plains</div> -<div class="line">Where sunlight slayeth life, and where no rains</div> -<div class="line">Abated the fierce air, nor slaked its fire:</div> -<div class="line">So that death seemed the end of all desire,</div> -<div class="line">To ease the distracted body of its pains.</div> -<div class="line">And so I died, and from my eyes the glare</div> -<div class="line">Faded, nor had I further need of breath;</div> -<div class="line">But when I reached my hand to find you there</div> -<div class="line">Beside me, I found nothing.... Lonely was death.</div> -<div class="line">And with a cry I wakened, but to hear</div> -<div class="line">Thin wings of fever singing in my ear.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="fever-trees">FEVER-TREES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The beautiful Acacia</div> -<div class="line">She sighs in desert lands:</div> -<div class="line">Over the burning waterways</div> -<div class="line">Of Africa she sways and sways,</div> -<div class="line">Even where no air glideth</div> -<div class="line">In cooling green she stands.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The beautiful Acacia</div> -<div class="line">She hath a yellow dress:</div> -<div class="line">A slender trunk of lemon sheen</div> -<div class="line">Gleameth through the tender green</div> -<div class="line">(Where the thorn hideth)</div> -<div class="line">Shielding her loveliness.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The beautiful Acacia</div> -<div class="line">Dwelleth in deadly lands:</div> -<div class="line">Over the brooding waterways</div> -<div class="line">Where death breedeth, she sways and sways,</div> -<div class="line">And no man long abideth</div> -<div class="line">In valleys where she stands.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="the-rain-bird">THE RAIN-BIRD</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">High on the tufted baobab-tree</div> -<div class="line">To-night a rain-bird sang to me</div> -<div class="line">A simple song, of three notes only,</div> -<div class="line">That made the wilderness more lonely;</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">For in my brain it echoed nearly,</div> -<div class="line">Old village church bells chiming clearly:</div> -<div class="line">The sweet cracked bells, just out of tune,</div> -<div class="line">Over the mowing grass in June--</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Over the mowing grass, and meadows</div> -<div class="line">Where the low sun casts long shadows.</div> -<div class="line">And cuckoos call in the twilight</div> -<div class="line">From elm to elm, in level flight.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Now through the evening meadows move</div> -<div class="line">Slow couples of young folk in love,</div> -<div class="line">Who pause at every crooked stile</div> -<div class="line">And kiss in the hawthorn's shade the while:</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Like pale moths the summer frocks</div> -<div class="line">Hover between the beds of phlox,</div> -<div class="line">And old men, feeling it is late,</div> -<div class="line">Cease their gossip at the gate,</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Till deeper still the twilight grows,</div> -<div class="line">And night blossometh, like a rose</div> -<div class="line">Full of love and sweet perfume,</div> -<div class="line">Whose heart most tender stars illume.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Here the red sun sank like lead,</div> -<div class="line">And the sky blackened overhead;</div> -<div class="line">Only the locust chirped at me</div> -<div class="line">From the shadowy baobab-tree.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="moths">MOTHS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">When I lay wakeful yesternight</div> -<div class="line">My fever's flame was a clear light,</div> -<div class="line">A taper, flaring in the wind,</div> -<div class="line">Whither, fluttering out of the dim</div> -<div class="line">Night, many dreams glimmered by.</div> -<div class="line">Like moths, out of the darkness, blind,</div> -<div class="line">Hurling at that taper's flame,</div> -<div class="line">From drinking honey of the night's flowers</div> -<div class="line">Into my circled light they came:</div> -<div class="line">So near I could see their soft colours,</div> -<div class="line">Grey of the dove, most soothely grey;</div> -<div class="line">But my heat singed their wings, and away</div> -<div class="line">Darting into the dark again,</div> -<div class="line">They escaped me....</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Others floated down</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Like those vaned seeds that fall</div> -<div class="line">In autumn from the sycamore's crown</div> -<div class="line">When no leaf trembleth nor branch is stirred,</div> -<div class="line">More silent in flight than any bird,</div> -<div class="line">Or bat's wings flitting in darkness, soft</div> -<div class="line">As lizards moving on a white wall</div> -<div class="line">They came quietly from aloft</div> -<div class="line">Down through my circle of light, and so</div> -<div class="line">Into unlighted gloom below.</div> -<div class="line">But one dream, strong-winged, daring</div> -<div class="line">Flew beating at the heart of the flame</div> -<div class="line">Till I feared it would have put out my light,</div> -<div class="line">My thin taper, fitfully flaring,</div> -<div class="line">And that I should be left alone in the night</div> -<div class="line">With no more dreams for my delight.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Can it be that from the dead</div> -<div class="line">Even their dreams, their dreams are fled?</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="bete-humaine">BÊTE HUMAINE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise,</div> -<div class="line">I saw the world awake; and as the ray</div> -<div class="line">Touched the tall grasses where they dream till day,</div> -<div class="line">Lo, the bright air alive with dragonflies,</div> -<div class="line">With brittle wings aquiver, and great eyes</div> -<div class="line">Piloting crimson bodies, slender and gay.</div> -<div class="line">I aimed at one, and struck it, and it lay</div> -<div class="line">Broken and lifeless, with fast-fading dyes...</div> -<div class="line">Then my soul sickened with a sudden pain</div> -<div class="line">And horror, at my own careless cruelty,</div> -<div class="line">That where all things are cruel I had slain</div> -<div class="line">A creature whose sweet life it is to fly:</div> -<div class="line">Like beasts that prey with bloody claw...</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Nay, they</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Must slay to live, but what excuse had I?</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="doves">DOVES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">On the edge of the wild-wood</div> -<div class="line">Grey doves fluttering:</div> -<div class="line">Grey doves of Astarte</div> -<div class="line">To the woods at daybreak</div> -<div class="line">Lazily uttering</div> -<div class="line">Their murmured enchantment,</div> -<div class="line">Old as man's childhood;</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">While she, pale divinity</div> -<div class="line">Of hidden evil,</div> -<div class="line">Silvers the regions chaste</div> -<div class="line">Of cold sky, and broodeth</div> -<div class="line">Over forests primeval</div> -<div class="line">And all that thorny waste's</div> -<div class="line">Wooded infinity.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">'Lovely goddess of groves,'</div> -<div class="line">Cried I, 'what enchanted</div> -<div class="line">Sinister recesses</div> -<div class="line">Of these lone shades</div> -<div class="line">May still be haunted</div> -<div class="line">By thy demon caresses,</div> -<div class="line">Thy unholy loves?'</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">But clear day quelleth</div> -<div class="line">Her dominion lonely,</div> -<div class="line">And the soft ring-dove,</div> -<div class="line">Murmuring, telleth</div> -<div class="line">That dark sin only</div> -<div class="line">From man's lust springeth,</div> -<div class="line">In man's heart dwelleth.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="song-i">SONG</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">I made a song in my love's likeness</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">From colours of my quietude,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">From trees whose blossoms shine no less</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Than butterflies in the wild-wood.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">I laid claim on all beauty</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Under the sun to praise her wonder,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Till the noise of war swept over me,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Stopp'd my singing mouth with thunder.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The angel of death hath swift wings,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">I heard him strip the huddled trees</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Overhead, as a hornet sings,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And whip the grass about my knees.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Down we crouched in the parchèd dust,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Down beneath that deadly rain:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Dead still I lay, as lie one must</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Who hath a bullet in his brain.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Dead they left me: but my soul, waking,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Quietly laughed at their distress</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Who guessed not that I still was making</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">That new song in my love's likeness.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="before-action">BEFORE ACTION</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Now the wind of the dawn sighs,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Now red embers have burned white,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Under the darkness faints and dies</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The slow-beating heart of night.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Into the darkness my eyes peer</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Seeing only faces steel'd,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And level eyes that know not fear;</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Yet each heart is a battlefield</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Where phantom armies foin and feint</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And bloody victories are won</div> -</div> -<div class="line">From the time when stars are faint</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">To the rising of the sun.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">With banners broken, and the roll</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Of drums, at dawn the phantoms fly:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">A man must commune with his soul</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">When he marches out to die.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">O day of wrath and of desire!</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">For each may know upon this day</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Whether he be a thing of fire</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Or fettered to the traitor clay.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Such is the hazard that is thrown:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">We know not how the dice may fall:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">All the secrets shall be known</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Or else we shall not know at all.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="on-a-subaltern-killed-in-action">ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Into that dry and most desolate place</div> -<div class="line">With heavy gait they dragged the stretcher in</div> -<div class="line">And laid him on the bloody ground: the din</div> -<div class="line">Of Maxim fire ceased not. I raised his head,</div> -<div class="line">And looked into his face,</div> -<div class="line">And saw that he was dead.</div> -<div class="line">Saw beneath matted curls the broken skin</div> -<div class="line">That let the bullet in;</div> -<div class="line">And saw the limp, lithe limbs, the smiling mouth...</div> -<div class="line">(Ah, may we smile at death</div> -<div class="line">As bravely....) the curv'd lips that no more drouth</div> -<div class="line">Should blacken, and no sweetly stirring breath</div> -<div class="line">Mildly displace.</div> -<div class="line">So I covered the calm face</div> -<div class="line">And stripped the shirt from his firm breast, and there,</div> -<div class="line">A zinc identity disc, a bracelet of elephant hair</div> -<div class="line">I found.... Ah, God, how deep it stings</div> -<div class="line">This unendurable pity of small things!</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">But more than this I saw,</div> -<div class="line">That dead stranger welcoming, more than the raw</div> -<div class="line">And brutal havoc of war.</div> -<div class="line">England I saw, the mother from whose side</div> -<div class="line">He came hither and died, she at whose hems he had play'd,</div> -<div class="line">In whose quiet womb his body and soul were made.</div> -<div class="line">That pale, estrangèd flesh that we bowed over</div> -<div class="line">Had breathed the scent in summer of white clover;</div> -<div class="line">Dreamed her cool fading nights, her twilights long,</div> -<div class="line">And days as careless as a blackbird's song</div> -<div class="line">Heard in the hush of eve, when midges' wings</div> -<div class="line">Make a thin music, and the night-jar spins.</div> -<div class="line">(For it is summer, I thought, in England now....)</div> -<div class="line">And once those forward gazing eyes had seen</div> -<div class="line">Her lovely living green: that blackened brow</div> -<div class="line">Cool airs, from those blue hills moving, had fann'd--</div> -<div class="line">Breath of that holy land</div> -<div class="line">Whither my soul aspireth without despair:</div> -<div class="line">In the broken brain had many a lovely word</div> -<div class="line">Awakened magical echoes of things heard,</div> -<div class="line">Telling of love and laughter and low voices,</div> -<div class="line">And tales in which the English heart rejoices</div> -<div class="line">In vanishing visions of childhood and its glories:</div> -<div class="line">Old-fashioned nursery rhymes and fairy stories:</div> -<div class="line">Words that only an English tongue could tell.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And the firing died away; and the night fell</div> -<div class="line">On our battle. Only in the sullen sky</div> -<div class="line">A prairie fire, with huge fantastic flame</div> -<div class="line">Leapt, lighting dark clouds charged with thunder.</div> -<div class="line">And my heart was sick with shame</div> -<div class="line">That there, in death, he should lie,</div> -<div class="line">Crying: 'Oh, why am I alive, I wonder?'</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">In a dream I saw war riding the land:</div> -<div class="line">Stark rode she, with bowed eyes, against the glare</div> -<div class="line">Of sack'd cities smouldering in the dark,</div> -<div class="line">A tired horse, lean, with outreaching head,</div> -<div class="line">And hid her face of dread....</div> -<div class="line">Yet, in my passion would I look on her,</div> -<div class="line">Crying, O hark,</div> -<div class="line">Thou pale one, whom now men say bearest the scythe</div> -<div class="line">Of God, that iron scythe forged by his thunder</div> -<div class="line">For reaping of nations overripened, fashioned</div> -<div class="line">Upon the clanging anvil whose sparks, flying</div> -<div class="line">In a starry night, dying, fall hereunder....</div> -<div class="line">But she, she heeded not my cry impassioned</div> -<div class="line">Nor turned her face of dread,</div> -<div class="line">Urging the tired horse, with outreaching head,</div> -<div class="line">O thou, cried I, who choosest for thy going</div> -<div class="line">These bloomy meadows of youth, these flowery ways</div> -<div class="line">Whereby no influence strays</div> -<div class="line">Ruder than a cold wind blowing,</div> -<div class="line">Or beating needles of rain,</div> -<div class="line">Why must thou ride again</div> -<div class="line">Ruthless among the pastures yet unripened,</div> -<div class="line">Crushing their beauty in thine iron track</div> -<div class="line">Downtrodden, ravish'd in thy following flame,</div> -<div class="line">Parched and black?</div> -<div class="line">But she, she stayed not in her weary haste</div> -<div class="line">Nor turned her face; but fled:</div> -<div class="line">And where she passed the lands lay waste....</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And now I cannot tell whither she rideth:</div> -<div class="line">But tired, tired rides she.</div> -<div class="line">Yet know I well why her dread face she hideth:</div> -<div class="line">She is pale and faint to death. Yea, her day faileth,</div> -<div class="line">Nor all her blood, nor all her frenzy burning,</div> -<div class="line">Nor all her hate availeth:</div> -<div class="line">For she passeth out of sight</div> -<div class="line">Into that night</div> -<div class="line">From which none, none returneth</div> -<div class="line">To waste the meadows of youth,</div> -<div class="line">Nor vex thine eyelids, Routhe,</div> -<div class="line">O sorrowful sister, soother of our sorrow.</div> -<div class="line">And a hope within me springs</div> -<div class="line">That fair will be the morrow,</div> -<div class="line">And that charred plain,</div> -<div class="line">Those flowery meadows, shall rejoice at last</div> -<div class="line">In a sweet, clean</div> -<div class="line">Freshness, as when the green</div> -<div class="line">Grass springeth, where the prairie fire hath passed.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="after-action">AFTER ACTION</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">All through that day of battle the broken sound</div> -<div class="line">Of shattering Maxim fire made mad the wood;</div> -<div class="line">So that the low trees shuddered where they stood,</div> -<div class="line">And echoes bellowed in the bush around:</div> -<div class="line">But when, at last the light of day was drowned,</div> -<div class="line">That madness ceased.... Ah, God, but it was good!</div> -<div class="line">There, in the reek of iodine and blood,</div> -<div class="line">I flung me down upon the thorny ground.</div> -<div class="line">So quiet was it, I might well have been lying</div> -<div class="line">In a room I love, where the ivy cluster shakes</div> -<div class="line">Its dew upon the lattice panes at even:</div> -<div class="line">Where rusty ivory scatters from the dying</div> -<div class="line">Jessamine blossom, and the musk-rose breaks</div> -<div class="line">Her dusky bloom beneath a summer heaven.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="sonnet">SONNET</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Not only for remembered loveliness,</div> -<div class="line">England, my mother, my own, we hold thee rare</div> -<div class="line">Who toil, and fight, and sicken beneath the glare</div> -<div class="line">Of brazen skies that smile on our duress,</div> -<div class="line">Making us crave thy cloudy state no less</div> -<div class="line">Than the sweet clarity of thy rain-wash'd air,</div> -<div class="line">Meadows in moonlight cool, and every fair</div> -<div class="line">Slow-fading flower of thy summer dress:</div> -<div class="line">Not for thy flowers, but for the unfading crown</div> -<div class="line">Of sacrifice our happy brothers wove thee:</div> -<div class="line">The joyous ones who laid thy beauty down</div> -<div class="line">Nor stayed to see it shamed. For these we love thee,</div> -<div class="line">For this (O love, O dread!) we hold thee more</div> -<div class="line">Divinely fair to-day than heretofore.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="a-farewell-to-africa">A FAREWELL TO AFRICA</p> -<p class="pnext">,, vspace:: 2</p> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Now once again, upon the pole-star's bearing,</div> -<div class="line">We plough these furrowed fields where no blade springeth;</div> -<div class="line">Again the busy trade in the halyards singeth</div> -<div class="line">Sun-whitened spindrift from the blown wave shearing;</div> -<div class="line">The uncomplaining sea suffers our faring;</div> -<div class="line">In a brazen glitter our little wake is lost,</div> -<div class="line">And the starry south rolls over until no ghost</div> -<div class="line">Remaineth of us and all our pitiful daring;</div> -<div class="line">For the sea beareth no trace of man's endeavour,</div> -<div class="line">His might enarmoured, his prosperous argosies,</div> -<div class="line">Soundless, within her unsounded caves, forever</div> -<div class="line">She broodeth, knowing neither war nor peace,</div> -<div class="line">And our grey cruisers holds in mind no more</div> -<div class="line">Than the cedarn fleets that Sheba's treasure bore.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="song-ii">SONG</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">What is the worth of war</div> -<div class="line">In a world that turneth, turneth</div> -<div class="line">About a tired star</div> -<div class="line">Whose flaming centre burneth</div> -<div class="line">No longer than the space</div> -<div class="line">Of the spent atom's race:</div> -<div class="line">Where conquered lands, soon, soon</div> -<div class="line">Lie waste as the pale moon?</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">What is the worth of art</div> -<div class="line">In a world that fast forgetteth</div> -<div class="line">Those who have wrung its heart</div> -<div class="line">With beauty that love begetteth,</div> -<div class="line">Whose faint flames vanish quite</div> -<div class="line">In that star-powdered night</div> -<div class="line">Where even the mighty ones</div> -<div class="line">Shine only as far suns?</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And what is beauty worth,</div> -<div class="line">Sweet beauty, that persuadeth</div> -<div class="line">Of her immortal birth,</div> -<div class="line">Then, as a flower, fadeth:</div> -<div class="line">Or love, whose tender years</div> -<div class="line">End with the mourner's tears,</div> -<div class="line">Die, when the mourner's breath</div> -<div class="line">Is quiet, at last, in death?</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Beauty and love are one,</div> -<div class="line">Even when fierce war clashes:</div> -<div class="line">Even when our fiery sun</div> -<div class="line">Hath burnt itself to ashes,</div> -<div class="line">And the dead planets race</div> -<div class="line">Unlighted through blind space,</div> -<div class="line">Beauty will still shine there:</div> -<div class="line">Wherefore, I worship her.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="the-hawthorn-spray">THE HAWTHORN SPRAY</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">I saw a thrush light on a hawthorn spray,</div> -<div class="line">One moment only, spilling creamy blossom,</div> -<div class="line">While the bough bent beneath her speckled bosom,</div> -<div class="line">Bent, and recovered, and she fluttered away.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The branch was still; but, in my heart, a pain</div> -<div class="line">Than the thorn'd spray more cruel, stabbed me, only</div> -<div class="line">Remembering days in a far land and lonely</div> -<div class="line">When I had never hoped for summer again.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="the-pavement">THE PAVEMENT</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">In bitter London's heart of stone,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Under the lamplight's shielded glare.</div> -</div> -<div class="line">I saw a soldier's body thrown</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Unto the drabs that traffic there</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Pacing the pavements with slow feet:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Those old pavements whose blown dust</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Throttles the hot air of the street,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And the darkness smells of lust.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The chaste moon, with equal glance,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Looked down on the mad world, astare</div> -</div> -<div class="line">At those who conquered in sad France</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And those who perished in Leicester Square.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And in her light his lips were pale:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Lips that love had moulded well:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Out of the jaws of Passchendaele</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">They had sent him to this nether hell.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">I had no stone of scorn to fling,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">For I know not how the wrong began--</div> -</div> -<div class="line">But I had seen a hateful thing</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Masked in the dignity of man:</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And hate and sorrow and hopeless anger</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Swept my heart, as the winds that sweep</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Angrily through the leafless hanger</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">When winter rises from the deep....</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">* * * * *</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">I would that war were what men dream:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">A crackling fire, a cleansing flame,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">That it might leap the space between</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And lap up London and its shame.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="to-lydia-lopokova-i">To LYDIA LOPOKOVA</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="left medium pfirst">HER GARLAND</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">O thou who comest to our wintry shade</div> -<div class="line">Gay and light-footed as the virgin Spring,</div> -<div class="line">Before whose shining feet the cherries fling</div> -<div class="line">Their moony tribute, when the sloe is sprayed</div> -<div class="line">With light, and all things musical are made:</div> -<div class="line">O thou who art Spring's daughter, who can bring</div> -<div class="line">Blossom, or song of bird, or anything</div> -<div class="line">To match the youth in which you stand arrayed?</div> -<div class="line">Not that rich garland Meleager twined</div> -<div class="line">In his sun-guarded glade above the blue</div> -<div class="line">That flashes from the burning Tyrian seas:</div> -<div class="line">No, you are cooler, sweeter than the wind</div> -<div class="line">That wakes our woodlands; so I bring to you</div> -<div class="line">These wind-blown blossoms of anemones.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="left medium pfirst" id="to-lydia-lopokova-ii">HER VARIETY</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Soft as a pale moth flitting in moonshine</div> -<div class="line">I saw thee flutter to the shadowy call</div> -<div class="line">That beckons from the strings of Carneval,</div> -<div class="line">O frail and fragrant image of Columbine:</div> -<div class="line">So, when the spectre of the rose was thine,</div> -<div class="line">A flower wert thou, and last I saw thee fall</div> -<div class="line">In Cleopatra's stormy bacchanal</div> -<div class="line">Flown with the red insurgence of the vine.</div> -<div class="line">O moth, O flower, O mænad, which art thou?</div> -<div class="line">Shadowy, beautiful, or leaping wild</div> -<div class="line">As stormlight over savage Tartar skies?</div> -<div class="line">Such were my ancient questionings; but now</div> -<div class="line">I know that you are nothing but a child</div> -<div class="line">With a red flower's mouth and hazel eyes.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="left medium pfirst" id="to-lydia-lopokova-iii">HER SWIFTNESS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">You are too swift for poetry, too fleet</div> -<div class="line">For any musèd numbers to ensnare:</div> -<div class="line">Swifter than music dying on the air</div> -<div class="line">Or bloom upon rose-petals, fades the sweet</div> -<div class="line">Vanishing magic of your flying feet,</div> -<div class="line">Your poisèd finger, and your shining hair:</div> -<div class="line">Words cannot tell how wonderful you were,</div> -<div class="line">Or how one gesture made a joy complete.</div> -<div class="line">And since you know my pen may never capture</div> -<div class="line">The transient swift loveliness of you,</div> -<div class="line">Come, let us salve our sense of the world's loss</div> -<div class="line">Remembering, with a melancholy rapture,</div> -<div class="line">How many dancing-girls ... and poets too...</div> -<div class="line">Dream in the dust of Hecatompylos.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="ghostly-loves">GHOSTLY LOVES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">'Oh why,' my darling prayeth me, 'must you sing</div> -<div class="line">For ever of ghostly loves, phantasmal passion?</div> -<div class="line">Seeing that you never loved me after that fashion</div> -<div class="line">And the love I gave was not a phantom thing,</div> -<div class="line">But delight of eager lips and strong arms folding</div> -<div class="line">The beauty of yielding arms and of smooth shoulder,</div> -<div class="line">All fluent grace of which you were the moulder:</div> -<div class="line">And I.... Oh, I was happy for your holding.'</div> -<div class="line">'Ah, do you not know, my dearest, have you not seen</div> -<div class="line">The shadow that broodeth over things that perish:</div> -<div class="line">How age may mock sweet moments that have been</div> -<div class="line">And death defile the beauty that we cherish?</div> -<div class="line">Wherefore, sweet spirit, I thank thee for thy giving:</div> -<div class="line">'Tis my spirit that embraceth thee dead or living.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="february">FEBRUARY</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The robin on my lawn,</div> -<div class="line">He was the first to tell</div> -<div class="line">How, in the frozen dawn,</div> -<div class="line">This miracle befell,</div> -<div class="line">Waking the meadows white</div> -<div class="line">With hoar, the iron road</div> -<div class="line">Agleam with splintered light,</div> -<div class="line">And ice where water flowed:</div> -<div class="line">Till, when the low sun drank</div> -<div class="line">Those milky mists that cloak</div> -<div class="line">Hanger and hollied bank,</div> -<div class="line">The winter world awoke</div> -<div class="line">To hear the feeble bleat</div> -<div class="line">Of lambs on downland farms:</div> -<div class="line">A blackbird whistled sweet;</div> -<div class="line">Old beeches moved their arms</div> -<div class="line">Into a mellow haze</div> -<div class="line">Aerial, newly-born:</div> -<div class="line">And I, alone, agaze,</div> -<div class="line">Stood waiting for the thorn</div> -<div class="line">To break in blossom white</div> -<div class="line">Or burst in a green flame...</div> -<div class="line">So, in a single night,</div> -<div class="line">Fair February came,</div> -<div class="line">Bidding my lips to sing</div> -<div class="line">Or whisper their surprise,</div> -<div class="line">With all the joy of spring</div> -<div class="line">And morning in her eyes.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="song-of-the-dark-ages">SONG OF THE DARK AGES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">We digged our trenches on the down</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Beside old barrows, and the wet</div> -</div> -<div class="line">White chalk we shovelled from below;</div> -<div class="line">It lay like drifts of thawing snow</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">On parados and parapet:</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Until a pick neither struck flint</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Nor split the yielding chalky soil,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">But only calcined human bone:</div> -<div class="line">Poor relic of that Age of Stone</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Whose ossuary was our spoil.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Home we marched singing in the rain,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And all the while, beneath our song,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">I mused how many springs should wane</div> -<div class="line">And still our trenches scar the plain:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The monument of an old wrong.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">But then, I thought, the fair green sod</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Will wholly cover that white stain,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And soften, as it clothes the face</div> -<div class="line">Of those old barrows, every trace</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Of violence to the patient plain.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">And careless people, passing by,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Will speak of both in casual tone:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Saying: 'You see the toil they made:</div> -<div class="line">The age of iron, pick, and spade,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Here jostles with the Age of Stone.'</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Yet either from that happier race</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Will merit but a passing glance;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And they will leave us both alone:</div> -<div class="line">Poor savages who wrought in stone--</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Poor savages who fought in France.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="winter-sunset">WINTER SUNSET</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Athwart the blackening bars of pines benighted,</div> -<div class="line">The sun, descending to the zones of denser</div> -<div class="line">Cloud that o'erhung the long horizon, lighted</div> -<div class="line">Upon the crown of earth a flaming censer</div> -<div class="line">From which white clouds of incense, overflowing,</div> -<div class="line">Filled the chill clarity from whence the swallows</div> -<div class="line">Had lately fled with wreathèd vapours, showing</div> -<div class="line">Like a fine bloom over the lonely fallows:</div> -<div class="line">Where, with the pungent breath of mist was blended</div> -<div class="line">A faint aroma of pine-needles sodden</div> -<div class="line">By autumn rains, and fainter still, ascended</div> -<div class="line">Beneath high woods the scent of leaves downtrodden.</div> -<div class="line">It was a moment when the earth, that sickened</div> -<div class="line">For Spring, as lover when the beloved lingers,</div> -<div class="line">Lay breathless, while the distant goddess quickened</div> -<div class="line">Some southern hill-side with her glowing fingers:</div> -<div class="line">And so, it seemed, the drowsy lands were shaken,</div> -<div class="line">Stirred in their sleep, and sighed, as though the pain</div> -<div class="line">Of a strange dream had bidden them awaken</div> -<div class="line">To frozen days and bitter nights again.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="song-iii">SONG</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Why have you stolen my delight</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">In all the golden shows of Spring</div> -</div> -<div class="line">When every cherry-tree is white</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And in the limes the thrushes sing,</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">O fickler than the April day,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">O brighter than the golden broom,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">O blyther than the thrushes' lay,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">O whiter than the cherry-bloom,</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">O sweeter than all things that blow ...</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Why have you only left for me</div> -</div> -<div class="line">The broom, the cherry's crown of snow,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And thrushes in the linden-tree?</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="england-april-1918">ENGLAND--APRIL, 1918</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Last night the North flew at the throat of Spring</div> -<div class="line">With spite to tear her greening banners down,</div> -<div class="line">Tossing the elm-tree's tender tassels brown,</div> -<div class="line">The virgin blossom of sloe burdening</div> -<div class="line">With colder snow; beneath his frosty sting</div> -<div class="line">Patient, the newly-wakened woods were bowed</div> -<div class="line">By drownèd fields where stormy waters flowed:</div> -<div class="line">Yet, on the thorn, I heard a blackbird sing....</div> -<div class="line">'Too late, too late,' he sang, 'this wintry spite;</div> -<div class="line">For molten snow will feed the springing grass:</div> -<div class="line">The tide of life, it floweth with the year.'</div> -<div class="line">O England, England, thou that standest upright</div> -<div class="line">Against the tide of death, the bad days pass:</div> -<div class="line">Know, by this miracle, that summer is near.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="slender-themes">SLENDER THEMES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">When, by a happier race, these leaves are turned,</div> -<div class="line">They'll wonder that such quiet themes engaged</div> -<div class="line">A soldier's mind when noisy wars were waged,</div> -<div class="line">And half the world in one red bonfire burned.</div> -<div class="line">'When that fierce age,' they'll say, 'went up in flame</div> -<div class="line">He lived ... or died, seeing those bright deeds done</div> -<div class="line">Whereby our sweet and settled peace was won,</div> -<div class="line">Yet offereth slender dreams, not deeds, to Fame.'</div> -<div class="line">Then say: 'Out of the heart the mouth speaketh,</div> -<div class="line">And mine was as the hearts of other men</div> -<div class="line">Whom those dark days impassioned; yet it seeketh</div> -<div class="line">To paint the sombre woes that held us then,</div> -<div class="line">No more than the cloud-rending levin's light</div> -<div class="line">Seeks to illumine the sad skies of night.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="invocation">INVOCATION</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Whither, O, my sweet mistress, must I follow thee?</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">For when I hear thy distant footfall nearing,</div> -<div class="line">And wait on thy appearing,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Lo! my lips are silent: no words come to me.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Once I waylaid thee in green forest covers,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Hoping that spring might free my lips with gentle fingers;</div> -<div class="line">Alas! her presence lingers</div> -</div> -<div class="line">No longer than on the plain the shadow of brown kestrel hovers.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Through windless ways of the night my spirit followed after;--</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Cold and remote were they, and there, possessed</div> -<div class="line">By a strange unworldly rest,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Awaiting thy still voice heard only starry laughter.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The pillared halls of sleep echoed my ghostly tread.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Yet when their secret chambers I essayed</div> -<div class="line">My spirit sank, dismayed,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Waking in fear to find the new-born vision fled.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Once indeed--but then my spirit bloomed in leafy rapture--</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">I loved; and once I looked death in the eyes:</div> -<div class="line">So, suddenly made wise,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Spoke of such beauty as I may never recapture....</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Whither, O, divine mistress, must I then follow thee?</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Is it only in love ... say, is it only in death</div> -<div class="line">That the spirit blossometh,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And words that may match my vision shall come to me?</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="thamar">THAMAR</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="left medium pfirst">(<em class="italics">To Thamar Karsavina</em>)</p> -<div class="left line-block medium outermost"> -<div class="line">Once in the sombre light of the throng'd courts of night,</div> -<div class="line">In a dream-haunted land only inhabited</div> -<div class="line">By the unhappy dead, came one who, anxious eyed,</div> -<div class="line">Clung to my idle hand with clenched fingers weak</div> -<div class="line">And gazed into my eyes as he had wrongs to speak.</div> -<div class="line">Silent he stood and wan, more pallid than the leaves</div> -<div class="line">Of an aspen blown under a wind that grieves.</div> -<div class="line">Then I: 'O haggard one, say from what ghostly zone</div> -<div class="line">Of thwarted destinies or torment hast thou come?</div> -<div class="line">Tell me thy race and name!' And he, with veiled face:</div> -<div class="line">'I have neither name nor race, but I have travelled far,</div> -<div class="line">A timeless avatar of never-ending dooms,</div> -<div class="line">Out of those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star</div> -<div class="line">In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar...</div> -<div class="line">Once in a lonely dawn my eager spirit fared</div> -<div class="line">By ways that no men dared unto a desert land,</div> -<div class="line">Where, on a sullen strand, a mouldering city, vast</div> -<div class="line">As towered Babylon, stood in the dreamy sand--</div> -<div class="line">Older a million years: Babel was builded on</div> -<div class="line">That broken city's tears; dust of her crumbled past</div> -<div class="line">Rose from the rapid wheels of Babel's charioteers</div> -<div class="line">In whorled clouds above those shining thoroughfares</div> -<div class="line">Where Babel's millions tread on her unheeding dead.</div> -<div class="line">Forth from an eastern gate where the lips of Asia wait</div> -<div class="line">Parch'd with an ancient thirst that no æons can abate,</div> -<div class="line">Passed I, predestinate, to a thorn'd desert's drought,</div> -<div class="line">Where the rivers of the south, flowing in a cloudy spate,</div> -<div class="line">Spend at last their splendid strength in a sea of molten glass</div> -<div class="line">Seething with the brazen might of a white sun dipped at length</div> -<div class="line">Like a baked stone, burning hot, plunged in a hissing pot.</div> -<div class="line">Out of that solemn portal over the tawny waste,</div> -<div class="line">Without stay, without haste, nor the joy of any mortal</div> -<div class="line">Glance of eye or clasp of hand, desolate, in a burning land,</div> -<div class="line">Lonely days and nights I travelled and the changing seasons squandered</div> -<div class="line">Friendless, endlessly, I wandered nor my woven fate unravelled;</div> -<div class="line">Drawn to a hidden goal, sore, forlorn with waiting,</div> -<div class="line">Seeking I knew not what, yet unhesitating</div> -<div class="line">Struggled my hapless soul...</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">There, in a thousand springs,</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Slow, beneath frozen snow, where the blind earth lay cringing,</div> -<div class="line">Have I seen the steppe unfold uncounted blossomings,</div> -<div class="line">Where salty pools shone fair in a quivering blue air</div> -<div class="line">That shivered every fringing reed-bed with cool delight,</div> -<div class="line">And fanned the mazy flight of slow-wing'd egrets white</div> -<div class="line">Beating and wheeling bright against the sun astare;</div> -<div class="line">But I could not hear their wings for they were ghostly things</div> -<div class="line">Sent by the powers of night to mock my sufferings</div> -<div class="line">And rain upon the bitter waterpools their drops aglitter.</div> -<div class="line">Yet, when these lakes accursed tortured my aching thirst,</div> -<div class="line">The green reeds fell to dust, the cool pools to a crust</div> -<div class="line">Of frozen salt crystallised to taunt my broken lips,</div> -<div class="line">To cheat my staring eyes, as a vision of great ships</div> -<div class="line">With moving towers of sail, poops throng'd with grinning crowds</div> -<div class="line">And a wind in their shrouds, bears down upon the pale</div> -<div class="line">Wasted castaway afloat with the salt in his throat</div> -<div class="line">And a feeble wild desire to be quenched of his fire</div> -<div class="line">In the green gloom beneath.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">So, again and again,</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Hath a phantom city thrust to the visionary vault</div> -<div class="line">Of inviolate cobalt, dome and dreaming minaret</div> -<div class="line">Mosque and gleaming water-tower hazy in a fountain's jet</div> -<div class="line">Or a market's rising dust; and my lips have cried aloud</div> -<div class="line">To see them tremble there, though I knew within my heart</div> -<div class="line">They were chiselled out of cloud or carven of thin air;</div> -<div class="line">And my fingers clenched my hand, for I wondered if this land</div> -<div class="line">Of my stony pilgrimage were a glimmering mirage,</div> -<div class="line">And I myself no more than a phantom of the sand.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'But beyond these fading slender cities, many leagues away,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Strange brooding mountains lay heaped, crowding range on range</div> -<div class="line">In a changing cloudy splendour; and beyond, in lakes of light,</div> -<div class="line">As eastward still I staggered, there swam into my sight,</div> -<div class="line">More vast and hoar and haggard, shoulders of ice and snow</div> -<div class="line">Bounding the heavens low of burnished brass, whereunder</div> -<div class="line">The hot plains of Cathay perpetually slumber:</div> -<div class="line">Where tawny millions breed in cities without number,</div> -<div class="line">Whither, a hill-born thunder, rolling on Tartary</div> -<div class="line">With torrents and barb'd lightning, swelleth the yellow river</div> -<div class="line">To a tumult of whitening foam and confusèd might</div> -<div class="line">That drowns in a single night many a mud-made city;</div> -<div class="line">And cities of boats, and frail cities of lath and reed,</div> -<div class="line">Are whirled away without pity or set afloat in a pale,</div> -<div class="line">Swirling, shallow sea ... and their names seem lost for ever</div> -<div class="line">Till a stranger nomad race drive their herds to the sad place</div> -<div class="line">Where old sorrows lie forgotten, and raise upon the rotten</div> -<div class="line">Level waste another brood to await another flood.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'But I never might attain to this melancholy plain</div> -</div> -<div class="line">For the mountains rose between; stark in my path they lay</div> -<div class="line">Between me and Cathay, through moving mist half-seen.</div> -<div class="line">And I knew that they were real, for their drooping folds of cloud</div> -<div class="line">Enwrapped me in a shroud, and the air that fell at night</div> -<div class="line">From their frozen summits white slid like an ice-blue steel</div> -<div class="line">Into my living breast and stilled the heart within</div> -<div class="line">As the chill of an old sin that robs a man of rest,</div> -<div class="line">Killing all delight in the silence of the night</div> -<div class="line">And brooding black above till the heart dare not move</div> -<div class="line">But lieth cold and numb ... and the dawn will not come.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'Yet to me a dawn came, new-kindled in cold flame,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Flinging the imminence of those inviolate snows</div> -<div class="line">On the forest lawns below in a shadow more immense</div> -<div class="line">Than their eternal vastness; and a new hope beyond reason,</div> -<div class="line">Flamed in my heart's dark season, dazzled my pallid eyes,</div> -<div class="line">Till, when the hot sun soared above the uttermost height,</div> -<div class="line">A draught of keen delight into my body was poured,</div> -<div class="line">For all that frozen fastness lay flowered with the spring:</div> -<div class="line">Her starry blossoms broke beneath my bruisèd feet,</div> -<div class="line">And their beauty was so sweet to me I kissed them where they lay;</div> -<div class="line">Yea, I bent my weary hips and kissed them with dry lips,</div> -<div class="line">Tenderly, only dreading lest their petals delicate</div> -<div class="line">Should be broken by my treading, for I lived, I lived again,</div> -<div class="line">And my heart would have been broken by a living creature's pain,</div> -<div class="line">So I kissed them for a token of my joy in their new birth,</div> -<div class="line">And I kissed the gentle earth. Slowly the shadows crept</div> -<div class="line">To the bases of the crags, and I slept....</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'Once, in another life, had I remembered sleep,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">When tired children creep on to their mother's knees,</div> -<div class="line">And there a dreamless peace more quietly descendeth</div> -<div class="line">Than gentle evening endeth or ring-doves fold their wings,</div> -<div class="line">Before the nightjar spins or the nightingale begins;</div> -<div class="line">When the brooding hedgerow trees where they nest lie awake</div> -<div class="line">And breathe so soft they shake not a single shuddering leaf</div> -<div class="line">Lest the silence should break.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'Other sleep have I known,</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Deeper, beyond belief, when straining limbs relax</div> -<div class="line">After hot human toil in yellow harvest fields</div> -<div class="line">Where the panting earth yields a smell of baked soil,</div> -<div class="line">And the dust of dry stubbles blows over the whitening</div> -<div class="line">Shocks of lank grain and bundles of flax,</div> -<div class="line">And men fling themselves down forgetting their troubles,</div> -<div class="line">Unheedful of the song that the landrail weaves along</div> -<div class="line">Misty woodlands, or lightning that the pale sky laves</div> -<div class="line">Like phosphorescent waves washing summer seas:</div> -<div class="line">And, more beautiful than these, that sleep of dazèd wonder</div> -<div class="line">When love has torn asunder the veils of the sky</div> -<div class="line">And raptured lovers lie faint in each other's arms</div> -<div class="line">Beneath a heaven strewn with myriad starry swarms,</div> -<div class="line">Where planets float like lonely gold-flowered nenuphars</div> -<div class="line">In pools of the sky; yet, when they wake, they turn</div> -<div class="line">From those burning galaxies seeking heaven only</div> -<div class="line">In each other's eyes, and sigh, and sleep again;</div> -<div class="line">For while they sleep they seem to forget the world's pain,</div> -<div class="line">And when they wake, they dream....</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'But other sleep was mine</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line">As I had drunk of wine with bitter hemlock steep'd,</div> -<div class="line">Or sousèd with the heapèd milky poppyheads</div> -<div class="line">A drowsy Tartar treads where slow waters sweep</div> -<div class="line">Over red river beds, and the air is heavy with sleep.</div> -<div class="line">So, when I woke at last, the labouring earth had rolled</div> -<div class="line">Eastward under the vast dominion of night,</div> -<div class="line">Funereal, forlorn as that unlighted chamber</div> -<div class="line">Wherein she first was born, bereft of all starlight,</div> -<div class="line">Pale silver of the moon, or the low sun's amber.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'Then to my queen I prayed, grave Ashtoreth, whose shade</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Hallows the dim abyss of Heliopolis,</div> -<div class="line">Where many an olive maid clashed kissing Syrian cymbals,</div> -<div class="line">And silver-sounding timbrels shivered through the vale.</div> -<div class="line">O lovely, and O white, under the holy night</div> -<div class="line">Is their gleaming wonder, and their brows are pale</div> -<div class="line">As the new risen moon, dancing till they swoon</div> -<div class="line">In far forests under desolate Lebanon,</div> -<div class="line">While the flame of Moloch's pyre reddens the sea-born cloud</div> -<div class="line">That overshadows Tyre; so, when I cried aloud,</div> -<div class="line">Behold, a torch of fire leapt on the mountain-side!</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'O bright, O beautiful! for never kindlier light</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Fell on the darkened sight of mortal eyes and dull</div> -<div class="line">Since that devoted one, whom gloomy Caucasus</div> -<div class="line">In icy silence lonely bound to his cruel shoulders,</div> -<div class="line">Brought to benighted men in a hollow fennel-stem</div> -<div class="line">Sparks of the torrid vapour that burned behind the bars</div> -<div class="line">Of evening, broke dawn's rose, or smouldered in the stars,</div> -<div class="line">Or lit the glowworm's taper, or wavered over the fen,</div> -<div class="line">Or tipped the javelin of the far-ravening levin,</div> -<div class="line">Lash of the Lord of Heaven and bitter scourge of sin.</div> -<div class="line">O beautiful, O bright! my tired sinews strained</div> -<div class="line">To this torch that flared and waned as a watery planet gloweth</div> -<div class="line">And waneth in the night when a calm sea floweth</div> -<div class="line">Under a misty sky spread with the tattered veils</div> -<div class="line">Of rapid cloud driven over the deeps of heaven</div> -<div class="line">By winds that range too high to sweep the languid sails.</div> -<div class="line">On through the frozen night, like a blind moth flying</div> -<div class="line">With battered wing and bruisèd bloom into a light,</div> -<div class="line">I dragged my ragged limbs, cared not if I were dying,</div> -<div class="line">Knew not if I were dead, where cavernous crevasses,</div> -<div class="line">And stony desperate passes snared, waylaid my tread:</div> -<div class="line">In the roar of broken boulders split from rocky shoulders,</div> -<div class="line">In the thunder of snow sliding, or under the appalling</div> -<div class="line">Rending of glacier ice or hoarse cataracts falling:</div> -<div class="line">And I knew not what could save me but the unholy guiding</div> -<div class="line">That some demon gave me. Thrice I fell, and thrice</div> -<div class="line">In torrents of blue ice-water slipp'd and was toss'd</div> -<div class="line">Like a dead leaf, or a ghost</div> -<div class="line">Harried by thin bufferings of wind</div> -<div class="line">Downward to Tartarus at daybreak,</div> -<div class="line">Downward to the regions of the lost....</div> -<div class="line">But the rushing waters ceased, and the bitter wind fell:</div> -<div class="line">How I cannot tell, unless that I had come</div> -<div class="line">To the hollow heart of the storm where the wind is dumb;</div> -<div class="line">And there my gelid blood thawed, glowed, and grew warm,</div> -<div class="line">While a black-hooded form caught at my arm, and stayed</div> -<div class="line">And held me as I swayed, until, at last, I saw</div> -<div class="line">In a strange unworldly awe, at the gate of light I stood:</div> -<div class="line">And I entered, alone....</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'Behold a cavern of stone carven, and in the midst</div> -</div> -<div class="line">A brazier that hissed with tongued flames, leaping</div> -<div class="line">Over whitened embers of gummy frankincense,</div> -<div class="line">Into a fume of dense and fragrant vapour, creeping</div> -<div class="line">Over the roof to spread a milky coverlet</div> -<div class="line">Softer than the woof of webby spider's net.</div> -<div class="line">But never spider yet spun a more delicate wonder</div> -<div class="line">Than that which hung thereunder, drooping fold on fold,</div> -<div class="line">Silks that glowed with fire of tawny Oxus gold,</div> -<div class="line">Richer than ever flowed from the eager fancy of man</div> -<div class="line">In his vain desire for beauty that endures:</div> -<div class="line">And on the floor were spread by many a heaped daiwan</div> -<div class="line">Carpets of Kurdistan, cured skins, and water-ewers</div> -<div class="line">Encrusted with such gems as emperors of Hind</div> -<div class="line">(Swart conquerors, long dead) sought for their diadems.</div> -</div> -<div class="left line-block medium outermost"> -<div class="line">No other light was there but one torch, flaring</div> -<div class="line">Against a square of sky possess'd by the wind,</div> -<div class="line">And never another sound but the tongued flames creeping.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'At last, my eyes staring into the clouded gloom,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Saw that the caverned room with shadowy forms was strewn</div> -<div class="line">In heavy sleep or swoon fallen, who did not move</div> -<div class="line">But lay as mortals lie in the sweet release of love.</div> -<div class="line">And stark between them stood huge eunuchs of ebony,</div> -<div class="line">Mute, motionless, as they had been carven of black wood.</div> -<div class="line">But these I scarcely saw, for, through the flame was seen</div> -<div class="line">Another, a queen, with heavy closèd eyes</div> -<div class="line">White against the skies of that empurpled night</div> -<div class="line">In her loveliness she lay, and leaned upon her hand:</div> -<div class="line">And my blood leapt at the sight, so that I could not stand</div> -<div class="line">But fell upon my knees, pleading, and cried aloud</div> -<div class="line">For her white loveliness as Ixion for his cloud:</div> -<div class="line">And my cry the silence broke, and the sleepers awoke</div> -<div class="line">From their slumber, stirred, and rose every one,--save those</div> -<div class="line">Mute eunuchs of ebony, those frowning caryatides.</div> -<div class="line">Slowly she looked at me, and when I cried again</div> -<div class="line">In yearning and in pain, she beckoned with her hand.</div> -<div class="line">Then from my knees rose I, and greatly daring,</div> -<div class="line">Through the hazy air, past the brazier flaring</div> -<div class="line">And the hissing flame, crept, until I came</div> -<div class="line">Unto the carven seat, and kissed her white feet;</div> -<div class="line">And she smiled, but spake not.</div> -<div class="line">When she smiled the sleepers wavered as the grass</div> -<div class="line">Of a cornfield wavers when the ears are swept</div> -<div class="line">By the breath of brown reapers singing as they pass,</div> -<div class="line">Or grass of woody glades when a wind that has slept</div> -<div class="line">Wakens, and invades their moonlit solitude,</div> -<div class="line">When the hazels shiver and the birch is blown</div> -<div class="line">To a billow of silver, but oaks in the wood</div> -<div class="line">Stand firm nor quiver, stand firm as stone:</div> -<div class="line">So, amid the sleepers, the black eunuchs stood.</div> -<div class="line">When the sleepers stirred faintly in the heat</div> -<div class="line">Of that painted room a silken sound I heard,</div> -<div class="line">And a thin music, sweet as the brown nightingale</div> -<div class="line">Sings in the jealous shade of a lonely spinney,</div> -<div class="line">Stranger far than any music mortal made</div> -<div class="line">Fell softer than the dew falleth when stars are pale.</div> -<div class="line">Sweet it was, and clear as light, or as the tears</div> -<div class="line">That sad Narcissus wears in the spring of the year</div> -<div class="line">On barren mountain ranges where rain falls cool</div> -<div class="line">And every lonely pool is sprayed with broken light:</div> -<div class="line">So cool, so beautiful, and so divinely strange</div> -<div class="line">I doubted if it came from any marshy reed</div> -<div class="line">Or hollow fluting stem pluck'd by the hands of men,</div> -<div class="line">Unless it were indeed that airy fugitive</div> -<div class="line">Syrinx, who cried and ran before the laughing eyes</div> -<div class="line">Of goat-footed Pan, and must for ever live</div> -<div class="line">A shadowy green reed by an Arcadian river--</div> -<div class="line">But never music made of Ladon's reedy daughter</div> -<div class="line">Or singing river-water more sweet than that which stole,</div> -<div class="line">Slow as amber honey wells from the honeycomb,</div> -<div class="line">Into my weary soul with solace and strange peace.</div> -<div class="line">So, trembling as I lay in a dream more desolate</div> -<div class="line">Than is the darkened day of the mid-winter north,</div> -<div class="line">I heard the voice of one who sang in a strange tongue,</div> -<div class="line">And I know not what he sang save that he sang of love,</div> -<div class="line">The while they led me forth unheeding, till we came</div> -<div class="line">Unto a chamber lit with one slow-burning flame</div> -<div class="line">That yellow horn bedims, and laid me down, and there</div> -<div class="line">They soothed my bruised limbs, and combed my tangled hair,</div> -<div class="line">And salved my limbs with rarely-mingled unguents pressed</div> -<div class="line">By hands of holy ones who dream beneath the suns</div> -<div class="line">Of Araby the Blest, and so, when they had bathed</div> -<div class="line">My burning eyes with milk of dreamy anodyne</div> -<div class="line">And cool'd my throat with wine,</div> -<div class="line">In robings of cool silk my broken body they swathed,</div> -<div class="line">Sandals of gold they placed upon my feet, and round</div> -<div class="line">My sad sun-blistered brows a silver fillet bound--</div> -<div class="line">Decking me with the pride of a bridegroom that goes</div> -<div class="line">To the joy of his bride and is lovely in her eyes--</div> -<div class="line">And led me to her side. Then, as a conquering prince,</div> -<div class="line">I, who long since had been battered and tost</div> -<div class="line">Like a dead leaf or ghost buffeted by wild storms,</div> -<div class="line">Came to her white arms, conquering, and was lost,</div> -<div class="line">Yet dared not gaze upon the beauty that I dreamed.</div> -<div class="line">So, in my trance, it seemed that a shadowy soft dance</div> -<div class="line">Coiled slowly and unwound, swayed, beckoned, and recovered</div> -<div class="line">As hooded cobra bound by hollow spells of sound</div> -<div class="line">Unto the piper sways; so silently they hovered</div> -<div class="line">I only heard the beat of their naked feet,</div> -<div class="line">And then, another sound....</div> -<div class="line">A dull throb thrumming, a noise of faint drumming,</div> -<div class="line">Threatening, coming nearer, piercing deeper</div> -<div class="line">Than a dream lost in the heart of a sleeper</div> -<div class="line">Into those deeps where the dark fire gloweth,</div> -<div class="line">The secret flame that every man knoweth,</div> -<div class="line">Embers that smoulder, fires that none can fan,</div> -<div class="line">Terrible, older than the mind of man....</div> -<div class="line">Before he crawled from his swamp and spurned</div> -<div class="line">The life of the beast that dark fire burned</div> -<div class="line">In the hidden deeps where no dream can come:</div> -<div class="line">Only the throbbing of a drum</div> -<div class="line">Can wake it from its smouldering--</div> -<div class="line">Sightless, soundless, senseless, dumb--</div> -<div class="line">Dumb as those blind seeds that lie</div> -<div class="line">Drown'd in mud, and shuddering,</div> -<div class="line">I knew that I was man no more,</div> -<div class="line">But a throbbing core of flesh, that knew</div> -<div class="line">Nor beauty, nor truth, nor anything</div> -<div class="line">But the black sky and the slimy earth:</div> -<div class="line">Roots of trees, and fear, and pain,</div> -<div class="line">The blank of death, the pangs of birth,</div> -<div class="line">An inhuman thing possess'd</div> -<div class="line">By the throbbing of a drum:</div> -<div class="line">And my lips were strange and numb,</div> -<div class="line">But they kissed her white breast....</div> -<div class="line">Then, being drunk with pride and splendour of love, I cried:</div> -<div class="line">'"O spring of all delight, O moonèd mystery,</div> -<div class="line">O living marvel, white as the dead queen of night,</div> -<div class="line">O flower, and O flame ... tell me at least thy name</div> -<div class="line">That, from this desolate height, I may proclaim its wonder</div> -<div class="line">To the lost lands hereunder before thy beauty dies</div> -<div class="line">As fades the fire of dawn upon a peak of snow!"'</div> -<div class="line">Then: "Look," she sighed, "into my eyes, and thou shalt know."</div> -<div class="line">So, with her fingers frail, she pressed my brows, and so,</div> -<div class="line">Slowly, at last, she raised my drooping eyelids pale,</div> -<div class="line">And in her eyes I gazed.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">'Then fear, than love more blind,</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Caught at my heart and fast in chains of horror bound--</div> -<div class="line">As one who in profound and midnight forest ways</div> -<div class="line">Sees in the dark the burning eyes of a tiger barred</div> -<div class="line">Or stealthy footed pard blaze in a solemn hate</div> -<div class="line">And lust of human blood, yet cannot cry, nor turning</div> -<div class="line">Flee from the huddled wood, but stands and sees his fate,</div> -<div class="line">Or one who in a black night, groping for his track,</div> -<div class="line">Clings to the dizzy verge of a cragged precipice,</div> -<div class="line">Shrinks from the dim abyss, yet dare not venture back,</div> -<div class="line">And no sound hears but the hiss of empty air</div> -<div class="line">Swirling past his ears.... So, in a hideous</div> -<div class="line">Abandonment of hope, I waited for her kiss.</div> -<div class="line">Then the restless beat of the muttering drum</div> -<div class="line">Rose to a frenzied heat; the naked dancers leapt</div> -<div class="line">Insolent through the flame, laughing as they came</div> -<div class="line">With parted lips; their cries deadened my ears, my eyes</div> -<div class="line">Throbbed with the pattering of their rapid feet,</div> -<div class="line">And the whirling dust of their dancing swept</div> -<div class="line">Into my throat unslaked, dry-parchèd with love's drought,</div> -<div class="line">Until my mouth was pressed upon her burning mouth</div> -<div class="line">In a kiss most terrible.... Oh, was it pride, or shame</div> -<div class="line">Unending, without name, or ecstasy, or pain</div> -<div class="line">Or desperate desire? Alas! I cannot tell,</div> -<div class="line">Save that it pierced my trembling soul and body with fire.</div> -<div class="line">For, while her soft lips clove to mine in love, she drove</div> -<div class="line">A flaming blade of steel into my breast, and I,</div> -<div class="line">Rent with a bitter cry, slid from her side and fell</div> -<div class="line">Clutching in dumb despair the dark unbraided hair</div> -<div class="line">My passion had despoiled; while she, like serpent coiled,</div> -<div class="line">Poised for another stroke, terribly, slowly, smiled,</div> -<div class="line">Saying: "O stranger, red, red are my lips, and sweet</div> -<div class="line">Unto those lips so red are the kisses of the dead:</div> -<div class="line">Far hast thou wandered, far, for the kisses of Thamar."</div> -<div class="line">Then a deep silence fell on the frenzy and the laughter;</div> -<div class="line">The leaping dancers crept to the shadows where they had slept,</div> -<div class="line">And the mute eunuchs stood forth, and hugely bent</div> -<div class="line">Above my body, spent in its pool of blood,</div> -<div class="line">And hove me with black arms, while the queen followed after</div> -<div class="line">With stealthy steps, and eyes that burned into the night</div> -<div class="line">Of my dying brain, till, with her hand, she bade</div> -<div class="line">Them falter, and they stayed, while, eagerly, she propped</div> -<div class="line">My listless head that dropped downward from my shoulders,</div> -<div class="line">And slowly raised it up, raised it like a cup</div> -<div class="line">Unto her lips again,</div> -<div class="line">Then shuddered, trembled, shrunk, as though her mouth had drunk</div> -<div class="line">A potion where the fell fire of poison smoulders.</div> -<div class="line">And a darkness came, and I could see no more,</div> -<div class="line">But in my ears the roar of lonely torrents swelled</div> -<div class="line">And stilled my breath for ever, as though a wave appalling</div> -<div class="line">Had broken in my brain, and deep to deep were calling:</div> -<div class="line">And I felt my body falling down and down and down</div> -<div class="line">Into a blank of death, where dumb waters roll</div> -<div class="line">Endlessly, only knowing, that her dagger had stabbed my breast,</div> -<div class="line">But her kiss had killed my soul.</div> -<div class="line">And now I know no rest until again I stand</div> -<div class="line">Where that lost city's towers rise from the dreamy sand,</div> -<div class="line">Until I reach the gate where the lips of Asia wait,</div> -<div class="line">Till I cross the desert's drought, and the rivers of the south,</div> -<div class="line">And shiver through the night under those summits white</div> -<div class="line">That soar above Cathay; until I see the light</div> -<div class="line">Flame from those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star</div> -<div class="line">In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar.'</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst" id="envoi">ENVOI</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Now that the hour has come, and under the lonely</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Darkness I stumble at the doors of death,</div> -<div class="line">It is not hope, nor faith</div> -</div> -<div class="line">That here my spirit sustaineth, but love only.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">In visions, in love: only there have I clutched at divinity:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">But the vision fadeth; yet love fades not: and for this</div> -<div class="line">I would have you know that your kiss</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Was more to me than all my hopes of infinity.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Therein you made me divine ... you, who were moon and sun for me,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">You, for whose beauty I would have forsaken the splendour of the stars</div> -<div class="line">And my shadowy avatars</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Renounced: for there is nothing in the world you have not done for me.</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">So that when at length all sentient skill hath forsaken me,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And the bright world beats vainly on my consciousness,</div> -<div class="line">Your beauty shineth no less:</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And even if I were dead I think your shadow would awaken me.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line">*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>POEMS</span> ***</p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">A Word from Project Gutenberg</h2> -<p class="pfirst">We will update this book if we find any errors.</p> -<p class="pnext">This book can be found under: <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40344"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40344</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext">Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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-
-.. meta::
- :PG.Id: 40344
- :PG.Title: Poems
- :PG.Released: 2012-07-26
- :PG.Rights: Public Domain
- :PG.Producer: Al Haines
- :DC.Creator: Francis Brett Young
- :DC.Title: Poems
- 1916-1918
- :DC.Language: en
- :DC.Created: 1919
- :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg
-
-=====
-POEMS
-=====
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-.. pgheader::
-
-.. container:: coverpage
-
- .. vspace:: 3
-
- .. _`Cover`:
-
- .. figure:: images/img-cover.jpg
- :align: center
- :alt: Cover
-
- Cover
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. container:: titlepage center white-space-pre-line
-
- .. class:: x-large
-
- POEMS
-
- .. class:: large
-
- 1916-1918
-
- .. vspace:: 2
-
- .. class:: medium
-
- BY
-
- .. class:: large
-
- FRANCIS BRETT YOUNG
-
- .. vspace:: 4
-
- .. class:: center medium
-
- LONDON: 48 PALL MALL
- W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD.
- GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND
-
- .. vspace:: 4
-
-.. container:: verso center white-space-pre-line
-
- .. class:: center small
-
- Copyright 1919
-
-.. vspace:: 3
-
-.. class:: center medium
-
- BY THE SAME AUTHOR
-
-.. class:: left medium white-space-pre-line
-
- *Novels:*
-
- \ THE YOUNG PHYSICIAN
- \ THE CRESCENT MOON
- \ THE IRON AGE
- \ THE DARK TOWER
- \ DEEP SEA
- \ UNDERGROWTH (with E. Brett Young)
-
- .. vspace:: 2
-
- ..
-
- *Poems:*
-
- \ FIVE DEGREES SOUTH
-
- .. vspace:: 2
-
- ..
-
- *Belles Lettres:*
-
- \ ROBERT BRIDGES: A Critical Study
- \ MARCHING ON TANGA
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. container:: dedication white-space-pre-line
-
- .. class:: center medium
-
- TO
- EDYTH GOODALL
-
- .. vspace:: 2
-
- .. class:: left medium
-
- *Remember thus our sweet conspiracy:
- That I, having dreamed a lovely thing, with dull
- Words marred it--and you gave it back to me
- A thousand, thousand times more beautiful.*
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. class:: center medium
-
- ERRATA
-
-.. class:: left medium white-space-pre-line
-
- \Page 26, line 17, *for* "Lybian" *read* "Libyan."
- \Page 46, line 9, *for* "lythe" *read* "lithe."
- \Page 70, line 13, *for* "tyrranous" *read* "tyrannous."
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: left medium
-
-[Transcriber's note: the above errata have been applied
-to this etext. The word "Lybia" was also on page 32,
-and was corrected as above. Similarly, "tyrranous"
-was also on page 86, and was corrected.]
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. class:: center large
-
- CONTENTS
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: left medium white-space-pre-line
-
- `PROTHALAMION`_
- `TESTAMENT`_
- `LOCHANILAUN`_
- `LETTERMORE`_
- `LAMENT`_
- `THE LEMON-TREE`_
- `PHTHONOS`_
- `EASTER`_
- `THE LEANING ELM`_
- `THE JOYOUS LOVER`_
- `DEAD POETS`_
- `PORTON WATER`_
- `AN OLD HOUSE`_
- `THE DHOWS`_
- `THE GIFT`_
- `FIVE DEGREES SOUTH`_
- `104° FAHRENHEIT`_
- `FEVER-TREES`_
- `THE RAIN-BIRD`_
- `MOTHS`_
- `BÊTE HUMAINE`_
- `DOVES`_
- `SONG (i)`_
- `BEFORE ACTION`_
- `ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION`_
- `AFTER ACTION`_
- `SONNET`_
- `A FAREWELL TO AFRICA`_
- `SONG (ii)`_
- `THE HAWTHORN SPRAY`_
- `THE PAVEMENT`_
- `TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (i)`_
- `TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (ii)`_
- `TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (iii)`_
- `GHOSTLY LOVES`_
- `FEBRUARY`_
- `SONG OF THE DARK AGES`_
- `WINTER SUNSET`_
- `SONG (iii)`_
- `ENGLAND, APRIL 1918`_
- `SLENDER THEMES`_
- `INVOCATION`_
- `THAMAR`_
- `ENVOI`_
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`PROTHALAMION`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- PROTHALAMION
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | When the evening came my love said to me:
- | Let us go into the garden now that the sky is cool,
- | The garden of black hellebore and rosemary,
- | Where wild woodruff spills in a milky pool.
-
- | Low we passed in the twilight, for the wavering heat
- | Of day had waned, and round that shaded plot
- | Of secret beauty the thickets clustered sweet:
- | Here is heaven, our hearts whispered, but our lips spake not.
-
- | Between that old garden and seas of lazy foam
- | Gloomy and beautiful alleys of trees arise
- | With spire of cypress and dreamy beechen dome,
- | So dark that our enchanted sight knew nothing but the skies
-
- | Veiled with soft air, drench'd in the roses' musk
- | Or the dusky, dark carnation's breath of clove;
- | No stars burned in their deeps, but through the dusk
- | I saw my love's eyes, and they were brimmed with love.
-
- | No star their secret ravished, no wasting moon
- | Mocked the sad transience of those eternal hours:
- | Only the soft, unseeing heaven of June,
- | The ghosts of great trees, and the sleeping flowers.
-
- | For doves that crooned in the leafy noonday now
- | Were silent; the night-jar sought his secret covers,
- | Nor even a mild sea-whisper moved a creaking bough--
- | Was ever a silence deeper made for lovers?
-
- | Was ever a moment meeter made for love?
- | Beautiful are your closed lips beneath my kiss;
- | And all your yielding sweetness beautiful--
- | Oh, never in all the world was such a night as this!
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`TESTAMENT`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- TESTAMENT
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | If I had died, and never seen the dawn
- | For which I hardly hoped, lighting this lawn
- | Of silvery grasses; if there had been no light,
- | And last night merged into perpetual night;
- | I doubt if I should ever have been content
- | To have closed my eyes without some testament
- | To the great benefits that marked my faring
- | Through the sweet world; for all my joy was sharing
- | And lonely pleasures were few. Unto which end
- | Three legacies I'll send,
- | Three legacies, already half possess'd:
- | One to a friend, of all good friends the best,
- | Better than which is nothing; yet another
- | Unto thy twin, dissimilar spirit, Brother;
- | The third to you,
- | Most beautiful, most true,
- | Most perfect one, to whom they all are due.
-
- | Quick, quick ... while there is time....
- | O best of friends, I leave you one sublime
- | Summer, one fadeless summer. 'Twas begun
- | Ere Cotswold hawthorn tarnished in the sun,
- | When hedges were fledged with green, and early swallows
- | Swift-darting, on curved wings, pillaged the fallows;
- | When all our vale was dappled blossom and light,
- | And oh, the scent of beanfields in the night!
- | You shall remember that rich dust at even
- | Which made old Evesham like a street in heaven,
- | Gold-paved, and washed within a wave of golden
- | Air all her dreamy towers and gables olden.
- | You shall remember
- | How arms sun-blistered, hot palms crack'd with rowing,
- | Clove the cool water of Avon, sweetly flowing;
- | And how our bodies, beautifully white,
- | Stretch'd to a long stroke lengthened in green light,
- | And we, emerging, laughed in childish wise,
- | And pressed the kissing water from our eyes.
- | Ah, was our laughter childish, or were we wise?
- | And then, crown of the day, a tired returning
- | With happy sunsets over Bredon burning,
- | With music and with moonlight, and good ale,
- | And no thought for the morrow.... Heavy phlox
- | Our garden pathways bordered, and evening stocks,
- | Those humble weeds, in sunlight withered and pale,
- | With a night scent to match the nightingale,
- | Gladdened with spicèd sweetness sweet night's shadows,
- | Meeting the breath of hay from mowing meadows:
- | As humble was our joy, and as intense
- | Our rapture. So, before I hurry hence,
- | Yours be the memory.
- | One night again,
- | When we were men, and had striven, and known pain,
- | By a dark canal debating, unresigned,
- | On the blind fate that shadows humankind,
- | On the blind sword that severs human love...
- | Then did the hidden belfry from above
- | On troubled minds in benediction shed
- | The patience of the great anonymous dead
- | Who reared those towers, those high cathedrals builded
- | In solemn stone, and with clear fancy gilded
- | A beauty beyond ours, trusting in God.
- | Then dared we follow the dark way they trod,
- | And bowing to the universal plan
- | Trust in the true and fiery spirit of Man.
-
- | And you, my Brother,
- | You know, as knows one other,
- | How my spirit revisiteth a room
- | In a high wing, beneath pine-trees, where gloom
- | Dwelleth, dispelled by resinous wood embers,
- | Where, in half-darkness ... How the heart remembers...
- | We talked of beauty, and those fiery things
- | To which the divine desirous spirit clings,
- | In a wing'd rapture to that heaven flinging,
- | Where beauty is an easy thing, and singing
- | The natural speech of man. Like kissing swords
- | Our wits clashed there; the brittle beauty of words
- | Breaking, seemed to discover its secret heart
- | And all the rapt elusiveness of Art.
- | Now I have known sorrow, and now I sing
- | That a lovely word is not an idle thing;
- | For as with stars the cloth of night is spangled,
- | With star-like words, most lovelily entangled,
- | The woof of sombre thought is deckt.... Ah, bright
- | And cold they glitter in the spirit's night!
- | But neither distant nor dispassionate;
- | For beauty is an armour against fate....
- | I tell you, who have stood in the dark alone.
- | Seeing the face that turneth all to stone,
- | Medusa, blind with hate,
- | While I was dying, Beauty sate with me
- | Nor tortured any longer; gracious was she;
- | To her soft words I listened, and was content
- | To die, nor sorry that my light was spent.
- | So, Brother, if I come not home,
- | Go to that little room
- | That my spirit revisiteth, and there,
- | Somewhere in the blue air, you shall discover
- | If that you be a lover
- | Nor haughtily minded, all that once half-shaped
- | Then fled us, and escaped:
- | All that I found that day,
- | Far, so far away.
-
- | And you, my lovely one,
- | What can I leave to you, who, you having left,
- | Am utterly bereft?
- | What in my store of visionary dowers
- | Is not already yours?
- | What silences, what hours
- | Of peace passing all understanding; days
- | Made lyric by your beauty and its praise;
- | Years neither time can tarnish, nor death mar,
- | Wherein you shined as steadfast as a star
- | In my bleak night, heedless of the cloud-wrack
- | Scudding in torn fleeces black
- | Of my dark moods, as those who rule the far
- | Star-haunted pleasaunces of heaven are?
- | So think but lightly of that afternoon
- | With white clouds climbing a blue sky in June
- | When a boy worshipped under dreaming trees,
- | Who touched your hand, and sought your eyes.
- | ... Ah, cease,
- | Not these, not these...
- | Nor yet those nights when icy Brathay thundered
- | Under his bridges, and ghostly mountains wondered
- | At the white blossoming of a Christmas rose
- | More stainless than their snows;
- | Nor even of those placid days together
- | Mellow as early autumn's amber weather
- | When beech is ankleted with fire, and old
- | Elms wear their livery of yellow gold,
- | When orchards all are laden with increase,
- | And the quiet earth hath fruited, and knows peace
- | Oh, think not overmuch on those sweet years
- | Lest their last fruit be tears,--
- | Your tears, beloved, that were my utmost pain,--
- | But rather, dream again
- | How that a lover, half poet and half child,
- | An eager spirit of fragile fancies wild
- | Compact, adored the beauty and truth in you:
- | To your own truth be true;
- | And when, not mournfully, you turn this page
- | Consider still your starry heritage,
- | Continue in your loveliness, a star
- | To gladden me from afar
- | Even where there is no light
- | In my last night.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`LOCHANILAUN`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- LOCHANILAUN
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | This is the image of my last content:
- | My soul shall be a little lonely lake,
- | So hidden that no shadow of man may break
- | The folding of its mountain battlement;
- | Only the beautiful and innocent
- | Whiteness of sea-born cloud drooping to shake
- | Cool rain upon the reed-beds, or the wake
- | Of churn'd cloud in a howling wind's descent.
- | For there shall be no terror in the night
- | When stars that I have loved are born in me,
- | And cloudy darkness I will hold most fair;
- | But this shall be the end of my delight:
- | That you, my lovely one, may stoop and see
- | Your image in the mirrored beauty there.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`LETTERMORE`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- LETTERMORE
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | These winter days on Lettermore
- | The brown west wind it sweeps the bay,
- | And icy rain beats on the bare
- | Unhomely fields that perish there:
- | The stony fields of Lettermore
- | That drink the white Atlantic spray.
-
- | And men who starve on Lettermore,
- | Cursing the haggard, hungry surf,
- | Will souse the autumn's bruisèd grains
- | To light dark fires within their brains
- | And fight with stones on Lettermore
- | Or sprawl beside the smoky turf.
-
- | When spring blows over Lettermore
- | To bloom the ragged furze with gold,
- | The lovely south wind's living breath
- | Is laden with the smell of death:
- | For fever breeds on Lettermore
- | To waste the eyes of young and old.
-
- | A black van comes to Lettermore;
- | The horses stumble on the stones,
- | The drivers curse,--for it is hard
- | To cross the hills from Oughterard
- | And cart the sick from Lettermore:
- | A stinking load of rags and bones.
-
- | But you will go to Lettermore
- | When white sea-trout are on the run,
- | When purple glows between the rocks
- | About Lord Dudley's fishing-box
- | Adown the road to Lettermore,
- | And wide seas tarnish in the sun.
-
- | And so you'll think of Lettermore
- | As a lost island of the blest:
- | With peasant lovers in a blue
- | Dim dusk, with heather drench'd in dew,
- | And the sweet peace of Lettermore
- | Remote and dreaming in the West.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`LAMENT`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- LAMENT
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Once, I think, a finer fire
- | Touched my lips, and then I sang
- | Half the songs of my desire:
- | With their splendour the world rang.
-
- | And their sweetness made me free
- | Of those starry ways whereby
- | Planets make their minstrelsy
- | In echoing, unending sky.
-
- | So, before that spell was broken,
- | Song of the wind, surge of the sea,--
- | Beautiful passionate things unspoken
- | Rose like a breaking wave in me:
-
- | Rose like a wave with curled crest
- | That green sunlight splinters through...
- | But the wave broke within my breast:
- | And now I am a man like you.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`THE LEMON-TREE`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- THE LEMON-TREE
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Last night, last night, a vision of you
- | Sweetly troubled my waking dream:
- | Beneath the clear Algerian blue
- | You stood with lifted eyes: the beam
- | Of a winter sun beat on the crown
- | Of a lemon-tree, whose delicate fruit
- | Like pale lamps hung airily down;
- | And in your gazing eyes a mute
- | And lovely wonder.... Have I sung
- | Of slender things and naught beside?
- | You were so beautifully young
- | I must have kissed you or have died.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`PHTHONOS`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- | PHTHONOS
-
- | If, in high jealousy, God made me blind
- | And laughed to see me stumble in the night,
- | Driving his many-splintered arrows of light
- | Into that lost dominion of my mind;
- | Then, knowing me still unvext and unresigned,
- | Stole from my ears all homely sounds that might
- | Temper the darkness, saying, in heaven's despite,
- | I had not wholly left the world behind;
- | So, sunless, soundless, if, to make an end,
- | He smote the nerves that move, the nerves that feel:
- | Even then, O jealous one, I would not complain
- | If I were spared the wealth I cannot spend,
- | If I were left the treasure none can steal:
- | The lovely words that wander through my brain.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`EASTER`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- EASTER
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Adown our lane at Eastertide
- | Hosts of dancing bluebells lay
- | In pools of light: and 'Oh,' you cried,
- | 'Look, look at them: I think that they
- | Are bluer than the laughing sea,'
- | And 'Look!' you cried, 'a piece of the sky
- | Has fallen down for you and me
- | To gaze upon and love.' ... And I,
- | Seeing in your eyes the dancing blue
- | And in your heart the innocent birth
- | Of a pure delight, I knew, I knew
- | That heaven had fallen upon earth.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`THE LEANING ELM`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- THE LEANING ELM
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Before my window, in days of winter hoar
- | Huddled a mournful wood:
- | Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore,
- | In stony sleep they stood:
- | But you, unhappy elm, the angry west
- | Had chosen from the rest,
- | Flung broken on your brothers' branches bare,
- | And left you leaning there
- | So dead that when the breath of winter cast
- | Wild snow upon the blast,
- | The other living branches, downward bowed,
- | Shook free their crystal shroud
- | And shed upon your blackened trunk beneath,
- | Their livery of death....
-
- | On windless nights between the beechen bars
- | I watched cold stars
- | Throb whitely in the sky, and dreamily
- | Wondered if any life lay locked in thee:
- | If still the hidden sap secretly moved,
- | As water in the icy winterbourne
- | Floweth unheard;
- | And half I pitied you your trance forlorn:
- | You could not hear, I thought, the voice of any bird,
- | The shadowy cries of bats in dim twilight
- | Or cool voices of owls crying by night....
- | Hunting by night under the hornèd moon:
- | Yet half I envied you your wintry swoon,
- | Till, on this morning mild, the sun, new-risen
- | Steals from his misty prison;
-
- | The frozen fallows glow, the black trees shaken
- | In a clear flood of sunlight vibrating awaken:
- | And lo, your ravaged bole, beyond belief
- | Slenderly fledged anew with tender leaf
- | As pale as those twin vanes that break at last
- | In a tiny fan above the black beech-mast
- | Where no blade springeth green
- | But pallid bells of the shy helleborine.
- | What is this ecstasy that overwhelms
- | The dreaming earth? See, the embrownèd elms
- | Crowding purple distances warm the depths of the wood;
- | A new-born wind tosses their tassels brown,
- | His white clouds dapple the down;
- | Into a green flame bursting the hedgerows stand;
- | Soon, with banners flying, Spring will walk the land....
-
- | There is no day for thee, my soul, like this,
- | No spring of lovely words. Nay, even the kiss
- | Of mortal love that maketh man divine
- | This light cannot outshine:
- | Nay, even poets, they whose frail hands catch
- | The shadow of vanishing beauty, may not match
- | This leafy ecstasy. Sweet words may cull
- | Such magical beauty as time may not destroy;
- | But we, alas, are not more beautiful:
- | We cannot flower in beauty as in joy.
- | We sing, our musèd words are sped, and then
- | Poets are only men
- | Who age, and toil, and sicken.... This maim'd tree
- | May stand in leaf when I have ceased to be.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`THE JOYOUS LOVER`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- THE JOYOUS LOVER
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | O, now that I am free as the air
- | And fleet as clouds above,
- | I will wander everywhere
- | Over the ways I love.
-
- | Lightly, lightly will I pass
- | Nor scatter as I go
- | A shadow on the blowing grass
- | Or a footprint in the snow.
-
- | All the wild things of the wood
- | That once were timid and shy
- | They shall not flee their solitude
- | For fear, when I pass by;
-
- | And beauty, beauty, the wide world over,
- | Shall blush when I draw near:
- | She knows her lover, the joyous lover,
- | And greets him without fear.
-
- | But if I come to the dark room
- | From which our love hath fled
- | And bend above you in the gloom
- | Or kneel beside your bed,
-
- | Smile soft in your sleep, my beautiful one,
- | For if you should say 'Nay'
- | To the dream which visiteth you alone,
- | My joy would wither away.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`DEAD POETS`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- DEAD POETS
-
-.. vspace:: 3
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- ODE WRITTEN AT WILTON HOUSE
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Last night, amazed, I trod on holy ground
- | Breathing an air that ancient poets knew,
- | Where, in a valley compassed with sweet sound,
- | Beneath a garden's alley'd shades of yew,
- | With eager feet passèd that singer sweet
- | Who Stella loved, whom bloody Zutphen slew
- | In the starred zenith of his knightly fame.
- | There too a dark-stoled figure I did meet:
- | Herbert, whose faith burned true
- | And steadfast as the altar candle's flame.
-
- | Under the Wilton cedars, pondering
- | Upon the pains of Beauty and the wrong
- | That sealeth lovely lips, fated to sing,
- | Before they reach the cadence of their song,
- | I mused upon dead poets: mighty ones
- | Who sang and suffered: briefly heard were they
- | As Libyan nightingales weary of wing
- | Fleeing the temper of Saharan suns
- | To gladden our moon'd May,
- | And with the broken blossom vanishing.
-
- | So to my eyes a sorrowful vision came
- | Of one whose name was writ in water: bright
- | His cheeks and eyes burned with a hectic flame;
- | And one, alas! I saw whose passionate might
- | Was spent upon a fevered fen in Greece;
- | One shade there was who, starving, choked with bread;
- | One, a drown'd corpse, through stormy water slips;
- | One in the numbing poppy-juice found peace;
- | And one, a youth, lay dead
- | With powdered arsenic upon his lips.
-
- | O bitter were the sorrow that could dull
- | The sombre music of slow evening
- | Here, where the old world is so beautiful
- | That even lesser lips are moved to sing
- | How the wide heron sails into the light
- | Black as the cedarn shadows on the lawns
- | Or stricken woodlands patient in decay,
- | And river water murmurs through the night
- | Until autumnal dawns
- | Burn in the glass of Nadder's watery way.
-
- | Nay, these were they by whom the world was lost,
- | To whom the world most richly gave: forlorn
- | Beauty they worshipp'd, counting not the cost
- | If of their torment beauty might be born;
- | And life, the splendid flower of their delight,
- | Loving too eagerly, they broke, and spill'd
- | The perfume that the folded petals close
- | Before its prime; yet their frail fingers white
- | From that bruised bloom distill'd
- | Uttermost attar of the living rose.
-
- | Wherefore, O shining ones, I will not mourn
- | You, who have ravish'd beauty's secret ways
- | Beneath death's impotent shadow, suffering scorn,
- | Hatred, and desolation in her praise....
- | Thus as I spoke their phantom faces smiled,
- | As brooding night with heavy downward wing
- | Fell upon Wilton's elegiac stone,
- | On the dark woodlands and the waters wild
- | And every living thing--
- | Leaving me there amazèd and alone.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`PORTON WATER`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- PORTON WATER
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Through Porton village, under the bridge,
- | A clear bourne floweth, with grasses trailing,
- | Wherein are shadows of white clouds sailing,
- | And elms that shelter under the ridge.
-
- | Through Porton village we passed one day,
- | Marching the plain for mile on mile,
- | And crossed the bridge in single file,
- | Happily singing, and marched away
-
- | Over the bridge where the shallow races,
- | Under a clear and frosty sky:
- | And the winterbourne, as we marched by,
- | Mirrored a thousand laughing faces.
-
- | O, do we trouble you, Porton river,
- | We who laughing passed, and after
- | Found a resting-place for laughter?
- | Over here, where the poplars shiver
-
- | By stagnant waters, we lie rotten.
- | On windless nights, in the lonely places,
- | There, where the winter water races,
- | O, Porton river, are we forgotten?
-
- | Through Porton village, under the bridge,
- | The clear bourne floweth with grasses trailing,
- | Wherein are shadows of light cloud sailing,
- | And elms that shelter under the ridge.
-
- | The pale moon she comes and looks;
- | Over the lonely spire she climbs;
- | For there she is lovelier many times
- | Than in the little broken brooks.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`AN OLD HOUSE`:
-
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-
- AN OLD HOUSE
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | No one lives in the old house; long ago
- | The voices of men and women left it lonely.
- | They shuttered the sightless windows in a row,
- | Imprisoning empty darkness--darkness only.
-
- | Beyond the garden-closes, with sudden thunder
- | The lumbering troop-train passing clanks and jangles;
- | And I, a stranger, peer with careless wonder
- | Into the thickets of the garden tangles.
-
- | Yet, as I pass, a transient vision dawns
- | Ghostly upon my pondering spirit's gloom,
- | Of grey lavender bushes and weedy lawns
- | And a solitary cherry-tree in bloom....
-
- | No one lives in the old house: year by year
- | The plaster crumbles on the lonely walls:
- | The apple falls in the lush grass; the pear,
- | Pulpy with ripeness, on the pathway falls.
-
- | Yet this the garden was, where, on spring nights
- | Under the cherry-blossom, lovers plighted
- | Have wondered at the moony billows white,
- | Dreaming uncountable springs by love delighted;
-
- | Whose ears have heard the blackbird's jolly whistle,
- | The shadowy cries of bats in twilight flitting
- | Zigzag beneath the eaves; or, on the thistle,
- | The twitter of autumn birds swinging and sitting;
-
- | Whose eyes, on winter evenings, slow returning
- | Saw on the frosted paths pale lamplight fall
- | Streaming, or, on the hearth, red embers burning,
- | And shadows of children playing in the hall.
-
- | Where have they gone, lovers of another day?
- | (No one lives in the old house; long ago
- | They shuttered the sightless windows....) Where are they,
- | Whose eyes delighted in this moony snow?
-
- | I cannot tell ... and little enough they care,
- | Though April spray the cherry-boughs with light,
- | And autumn pile her harvest unaware
- | Under the walls that echoed their delight.
-
- | I cannot tell ... yet I am as those lovers;
- | For me, who pass on my predestinate way,
- | The prodigal blossom billows and recovers
- | In ghostly gardens a hundred miles away.
-
- | Yet, in my heart, a melancholy rapture
- | Tells me that eyes, which now an iron haste
- | Hurries to iron days, may here recapture
- | A vision of ancient loveliness gone to waste.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`THE DHOWS`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- THE DHOWS
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | South of Guardafui with a dark tide flowing
- | We hailed two ships with tattered canvas bent to the monsoon,
- | Hung betwixt the outer sea and pale surf showing
- | Where dead cities of Libya lay bleaching in the moon.
-
- | 'Oh whither be ye sailing with torn sails broken?'
- | 'We sail, we sail for Sheba, at Suliman's behest,
- | With carven silver phalli for the ebony maids of Ophir
- | From brown-skinned baharias of Arabia the Blest.'
-
- | 'Oh whither be ye sailing, with your dark flag flying?'
- | 'We sail, with creaking cedar, towards the Northern Star.
- | The helmsman singeth wearily, and in our hold are lying
- | A hundred slaves in shackles from the marts of Zanzibar.'
-
- | 'Oh whither be ye sailing...?'
- | 'Alas, we sail no longer:
- | Our hulls are wrack, our sails are dust, as any man might know.
- | And why should you torment us? ... Your iron keels are stronger
- | Than ghostly ships that sailed from Tyre a thousand years ago.'
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`THE GIFT`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- THE GIFT
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Marching on Tanga, marching the parch'd plain
- | Of wavering spear-grass past Pangani River,
- | England came to me--me who had always ta'en
- | But never given before--England, the giver,
- | In a vision of three poplar-trees that shiver
- | On still evenings of summer, after rain,
- | By Slapton Ley, where reed-beds start and quiver
- | When scarce a ripple moves the upland grain.
- | Then I thanked God that now I had suffered pain,
- | And, as the parch'd plain, thirst, and lain awake
- | Shivering all night through till cold daybreak:
- | In that I count these sufferings my gain
- | And her acknowledgment. Nay, more, would fain
- | Suffer as many more for her sweet sake.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`FIVE DEGREES SOUTH`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- FIVE DEGREES SOUTH
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | I love all waves and lovely water in motion,
- | That wavering iris in comb of the blown spray:
- | Iris of tumbled nautilus in the wake's commotion,
- | Their spread sails dipped in a marmoreal way
- | Unquarried, wherein are greeny bubbles blowing
- | Plumes of faint spray, cool in the deep
- | And lucent seas, that pause not in their flowing
- | To lap the southern starlight while they sleep.
- | These I have seen, these I have loved and known:
- | I have seen Jupiter, that great star, swinging
- | Like a ship's lantern, silent and alone
- | Within his sea of sky, and heard the singing
- | Of the south trade, that siren of the air,
- | Who shivers the taut shrouds, and singeth there.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`104° FAHRENHEIT`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- 104° FAHRENHEIT
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | To-night I lay with fever in my veins
- | Consumed, tormented creature of fire and ice,
- | And, weaving the enhavock'd brain's device,
- | Dreamed that for evermore I must walk these plains
- | Where sunlight slayeth life, and where no rains
- | Abated the fierce air, nor slaked its fire:
- | So that death seemed the end of all desire,
- | To ease the distracted body of its pains.
- | And so I died, and from my eyes the glare
- | Faded, nor had I further need of breath;
- | But when I reached my hand to find you there
- | Beside me, I found nothing.... Lonely was death.
- | And with a cry I wakened, but to hear
- | Thin wings of fever singing in my ear.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`FEVER-TREES`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- FEVER-TREES
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | The beautiful Acacia
- | She sighs in desert lands:
- | Over the burning waterways
- | Of Africa she sways and sways,
- | Even where no air glideth
- | In cooling green she stands.
-
- | The beautiful Acacia
- | She hath a yellow dress:
- | A slender trunk of lemon sheen
- | Gleameth through the tender green
- | (Where the thorn hideth)
- | Shielding her loveliness.
-
- | The beautiful Acacia
- | Dwelleth in deadly lands:
- | Over the brooding waterways
- | Where death breedeth, she sways and sways,
- | And no man long abideth
- | In valleys where she stands.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`THE RAIN-BIRD`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- THE RAIN-BIRD
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | High on the tufted baobab-tree
- | To-night a rain-bird sang to me
- | A simple song, of three notes only,
- | That made the wilderness more lonely;
-
- | For in my brain it echoed nearly,
- | Old village church bells chiming clearly:
- | The sweet cracked bells, just out of tune,
- | Over the mowing grass in June--
-
- | Over the mowing grass, and meadows
- | Where the low sun casts long shadows.
- | And cuckoos call in the twilight
- | From elm to elm, in level flight.
-
- | Now through the evening meadows move
- | Slow couples of young folk in love,
- | Who pause at every crooked stile
- | And kiss in the hawthorn's shade the while:
-
- | Like pale moths the summer frocks
- | Hover between the beds of phlox,
- | And old men, feeling it is late,
- | Cease their gossip at the gate,
-
- | Till deeper still the twilight grows,
- | And night blossometh, like a rose
- | Full of love and sweet perfume,
- | Whose heart most tender stars illume.
-
- | Here the red sun sank like lead,
- | And the sky blackened overhead;
- | Only the locust chirped at me
- | From the shadowy baobab-tree.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`MOTHS`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- MOTHS
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | When I lay wakeful yesternight
- | My fever's flame was a clear light,
- | A taper, flaring in the wind,
- | Whither, fluttering out of the dim
- | Night, many dreams glimmered by.
- | Like moths, out of the darkness, blind,
- | Hurling at that taper's flame,
- | From drinking honey of the night's flowers
- | Into my circled light they came:
- | So near I could see their soft colours,
- | Grey of the dove, most soothely grey;
- | But my heat singed their wings, and away
- | Darting into the dark again,
- | They escaped me....
- | Others floated down
- | Like those vaned seeds that fall
- | In autumn from the sycamore's crown
- | When no leaf trembleth nor branch is stirred,
- | More silent in flight than any bird,
- | Or bat's wings flitting in darkness, soft
- | As lizards moving on a white wall
- | They came quietly from aloft
- | Down through my circle of light, and so
- | Into unlighted gloom below.
- | But one dream, strong-winged, daring
- | Flew beating at the heart of the flame
- | Till I feared it would have put out my light,
- | My thin taper, fitfully flaring,
- | And that I should be left alone in the night
- | With no more dreams for my delight.
-
- | Can it be that from the dead
- | Even their dreams, their dreams are fled?
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`BÊTE HUMAINE`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- BÊTE HUMAINE
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise,
- | I saw the world awake; and as the ray
- | Touched the tall grasses where they dream till day,
- | Lo, the bright air alive with dragonflies,
- | With brittle wings aquiver, and great eyes
- | Piloting crimson bodies, slender and gay.
- | I aimed at one, and struck it, and it lay
- | Broken and lifeless, with fast-fading dyes...
- | Then my soul sickened with a sudden pain
- | And horror, at my own careless cruelty,
- | That where all things are cruel I had slain
- | A creature whose sweet life it is to fly:
- | Like beasts that prey with bloody claw...
- | Nay, they
- | Must slay to live, but what excuse had I?
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`DOVES`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- DOVES
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | On the edge of the wild-wood
- | Grey doves fluttering:
- | Grey doves of Astarte
- | To the woods at daybreak
- | Lazily uttering
- | Their murmured enchantment,
- | Old as man's childhood;
-
- | While she, pale divinity
- | Of hidden evil,
- | Silvers the regions chaste
- | Of cold sky, and broodeth
- | Over forests primeval
- | And all that thorny waste's
- | Wooded infinity.
-
- | 'Lovely goddess of groves,'
- | Cried I, 'what enchanted
- | Sinister recesses
- | Of these lone shades
- | May still be haunted
- | By thy demon caresses,
- | Thy unholy loves?'
-
- | But clear day quelleth
- | Her dominion lonely,
- | And the soft ring-dove,
- | Murmuring, telleth
- | That dark sin only
- | From man's lust springeth,
- | In man's heart dwelleth.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`SONG (i)`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- SONG
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | I made a song in my love's likeness
- | From colours of my quietude,
- | From trees whose blossoms shine no less
- | Than butterflies in the wild-wood.
-
- | I laid claim on all beauty
- | Under the sun to praise her wonder,
- | Till the noise of war swept over me,
- | Stopp'd my singing mouth with thunder.
-
- | The angel of death hath swift wings,
- | I heard him strip the huddled trees
- | Overhead, as a hornet sings,
- | And whip the grass about my knees.
-
- | Down we crouched in the parchèd dust,
- | Down beneath that deadly rain:
- | Dead still I lay, as lie one must
- | Who hath a bullet in his brain.
-
- | Dead they left me: but my soul, waking,
- | Quietly laughed at their distress
- | Who guessed not that I still was making
- | That new song in my love's likeness.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`BEFORE ACTION`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- BEFORE ACTION
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Now the wind of the dawn sighs,
- | Now red embers have burned white,
- | Under the darkness faints and dies
- | The slow-beating heart of night.
-
- | Into the darkness my eyes peer
- | Seeing only faces steel'd,
- | And level eyes that know not fear;
- | Yet each heart is a battlefield
-
- | Where phantom armies foin and feint
- | And bloody victories are won
- | From the time when stars are faint
- | To the rising of the sun.
-
- | With banners broken, and the roll
- | Of drums, at dawn the phantoms fly:
- | A man must commune with his soul
- | When he marches out to die.
-
- | O day of wrath and of desire!
- | For each may know upon this day
- | Whether he be a thing of fire
- | Or fettered to the traitor clay.
-
- | Such is the hazard that is thrown:
- | We know not how the dice may fall:
- | All the secrets shall be known
- | Or else we shall not know at all.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Into that dry and most desolate place
- | With heavy gait they dragged the stretcher in
- | And laid him on the bloody ground: the din
- | Of Maxim fire ceased not. I raised his head,
- | And looked into his face,
- | And saw that he was dead.
- | Saw beneath matted curls the broken skin
- | That let the bullet in;
- | And saw the limp, lithe limbs, the smiling mouth...
- | (Ah, may we smile at death
- | As bravely....) the curv'd lips that no more drouth
- | Should blacken, and no sweetly stirring breath
- | Mildly displace.
- | So I covered the calm face
- | And stripped the shirt from his firm breast, and there,
- | A zinc identity disc, a bracelet of elephant hair
- | I found.... Ah, God, how deep it stings
- | This unendurable pity of small things!
-
- | But more than this I saw,
- | That dead stranger welcoming, more than the raw
- | And brutal havoc of war.
- | England I saw, the mother from whose side
- | He came hither and died, she at whose hems he had play'd,
- | In whose quiet womb his body and soul were made.
- | That pale, estrangèd flesh that we bowed over
- | Had breathed the scent in summer of white clover;
- | Dreamed her cool fading nights, her twilights long,
- | And days as careless as a blackbird's song
- | Heard in the hush of eve, when midges' wings
- | Make a thin music, and the night-jar spins.
- | (For it is summer, I thought, in England now....)
- | And once those forward gazing eyes had seen
- | Her lovely living green: that blackened brow
- | Cool airs, from those blue hills moving, had fann'd--
- | Breath of that holy land
- | Whither my soul aspireth without despair:
- | In the broken brain had many a lovely word
- | Awakened magical echoes of things heard,
- | Telling of love and laughter and low voices,
- | And tales in which the English heart rejoices
- | In vanishing visions of childhood and its glories:
- | Old-fashioned nursery rhymes and fairy stories:
- | Words that only an English tongue could tell.
-
- | And the firing died away; and the night fell
- | On our battle. Only in the sullen sky
- | A prairie fire, with huge fantastic flame
- | Leapt, lighting dark clouds charged with thunder.
- | And my heart was sick with shame
- | That there, in death, he should lie,
- | Crying: 'Oh, why am I alive, I wonder?'
-
- | In a dream I saw war riding the land:
- | Stark rode she, with bowed eyes, against the glare
- | Of sack'd cities smouldering in the dark,
- | A tired horse, lean, with outreaching head,
- | And hid her face of dread....
- | Yet, in my passion would I look on her,
- | Crying, O hark,
- | Thou pale one, whom now men say bearest the scythe
- | Of God, that iron scythe forged by his thunder
- | For reaping of nations overripened, fashioned
- | Upon the clanging anvil whose sparks, flying
- | In a starry night, dying, fall hereunder....
- | But she, she heeded not my cry impassioned
- | Nor turned her face of dread,
- | Urging the tired horse, with outreaching head,
- | O thou, cried I, who choosest for thy going
- | These bloomy meadows of youth, these flowery ways
- | Whereby no influence strays
- | Ruder than a cold wind blowing,
- | Or beating needles of rain,
- | Why must thou ride again
- | Ruthless among the pastures yet unripened,
- | Crushing their beauty in thine iron track
- | Downtrodden, ravish'd in thy following flame,
- | Parched and black?
- | But she, she stayed not in her weary haste
- | Nor turned her face; but fled:
- | And where she passed the lands lay waste....
-
- | And now I cannot tell whither she rideth:
- | But tired, tired rides she.
- | Yet know I well why her dread face she hideth:
- | She is pale and faint to death. Yea, her day faileth,
- | Nor all her blood, nor all her frenzy burning,
- | Nor all her hate availeth:
- | For she passeth out of sight
- | Into that night
- | From which none, none returneth
- | To waste the meadows of youth,
- | Nor vex thine eyelids, Routhe,
- | O sorrowful sister, soother of our sorrow.
- | And a hope within me springs
- | That fair will be the morrow,
- | And that charred plain,
- | Those flowery meadows, shall rejoice at last
- | In a sweet, clean
- | Freshness, as when the green
- | Grass springeth, where the prairie fire hath passed.
-
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-.. _`AFTER ACTION`:
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- AFTER ACTION
-
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-..
-
- | All through that day of battle the broken sound
- | Of shattering Maxim fire made mad the wood;
- | So that the low trees shuddered where they stood,
- | And echoes bellowed in the bush around:
- | But when, at last the light of day was drowned,
- | That madness ceased.... Ah, God, but it was good!
- | There, in the reek of iodine and blood,
- | I flung me down upon the thorny ground.
- | So quiet was it, I might well have been lying
- | In a room I love, where the ivy cluster shakes
- | Its dew upon the lattice panes at even:
- | Where rusty ivory scatters from the dying
- | Jessamine blossom, and the musk-rose breaks
- | Her dusky bloom beneath a summer heaven.
-
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-
-.. _`SONNET`:
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- SONNET
-
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-..
-
- | Not only for remembered loveliness,
- | England, my mother, my own, we hold thee rare
- | Who toil, and fight, and sicken beneath the glare
- | Of brazen skies that smile on our duress,
- | Making us crave thy cloudy state no less
- | Than the sweet clarity of thy rain-wash'd air,
- | Meadows in moonlight cool, and every fair
- | Slow-fading flower of thy summer dress:
- | Not for thy flowers, but for the unfading crown
- | Of sacrifice our happy brothers wove thee:
- | The joyous ones who laid thy beauty down
- | Nor stayed to see it shamed. For these we love thee,
- | For this (O love, O dread!) we hold thee more
- | Divinely fair to-day than heretofore.
-
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-.. _`A FAREWELL TO AFRICA`:
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- A FAREWELL TO AFRICA
-
-,, vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Now once again, upon the pole-star's bearing,
- | We plough these furrowed fields where no blade springeth;
- | Again the busy trade in the halyards singeth
- | Sun-whitened spindrift from the blown wave shearing;
- | The uncomplaining sea suffers our faring;
- | In a brazen glitter our little wake is lost,
- | And the starry south rolls over until no ghost
- | Remaineth of us and all our pitiful daring;
- | For the sea beareth no trace of man's endeavour,
- | His might enarmoured, his prosperous argosies,
- | Soundless, within her unsounded caves, forever
- | She broodeth, knowing neither war nor peace,
- | And our grey cruisers holds in mind no more
- | Than the cedarn fleets that Sheba's treasure bore.
-
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-.. _`SONG (ii)`:
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- SONG
-
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-..
-
- | What is the worth of war
- | In a world that turneth, turneth
- | About a tired star
- | Whose flaming centre burneth
- | No longer than the space
- | Of the spent atom's race:
- | Where conquered lands, soon, soon
- | Lie waste as the pale moon?
-
- | What is the worth of art
- | In a world that fast forgetteth
- | Those who have wrung its heart
- | With beauty that love begetteth,
- | Whose faint flames vanish quite
- | In that star-powdered night
- | Where even the mighty ones
- | Shine only as far suns?
-
- | And what is beauty worth,
- | Sweet beauty, that persuadeth
- | Of her immortal birth,
- | Then, as a flower, fadeth:
- | Or love, whose tender years
- | End with the mourner's tears,
- | Die, when the mourner's breath
- | Is quiet, at last, in death?
-
- | Beauty and love are one,
- | Even when fierce war clashes:
- | Even when our fiery sun
- | Hath burnt itself to ashes,
- | And the dead planets race
- | Unlighted through blind space,
- | Beauty will still shine there:
- | Wherefore, I worship her.
-
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-.. _`THE HAWTHORN SPRAY`:
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- THE HAWTHORN SPRAY
-
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-..
-
- | I saw a thrush light on a hawthorn spray,
- | One moment only, spilling creamy blossom,
- | While the bough bent beneath her speckled bosom,
- | Bent, and recovered, and she fluttered away.
-
- | The branch was still; but, in my heart, a pain
- | Than the thorn'd spray more cruel, stabbed me, only
- | Remembering days in a far land and lonely
- | When I had never hoped for summer again.
-
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-.. _`THE PAVEMENT`:
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- THE PAVEMENT
-
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-..
-
- | In bitter London's heart of stone,
- | Under the lamplight's shielded glare.
- | I saw a soldier's body thrown
- | Unto the drabs that traffic there
-
- | Pacing the pavements with slow feet:
- | Those old pavements whose blown dust
- | Throttles the hot air of the street,
- | And the darkness smells of lust.
-
- | The chaste moon, with equal glance,
- | Looked down on the mad world, astare
- | At those who conquered in sad France
- | And those who perished in Leicester Square.
-
- | And in her light his lips were pale:
- | Lips that love had moulded well:
- | Out of the jaws of Passchendaele
- | They had sent him to this nether hell.
-
- | I had no stone of scorn to fling,
- | For I know not how the wrong began--
- | But I had seen a hateful thing
- | Masked in the dignity of man:
-
- | And hate and sorrow and hopeless anger
- | Swept my heart, as the winds that sweep
- | Angrily through the leafless hanger
- | When winter rises from the deep....
-
- | * * * * *
-
- | I would that war were what men dream:
- | A crackling fire, a cleansing flame,
- | That it might leap the space between
- | And lap up London and its shame.
-
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-.. _`To LYDIA LOPOKOVA (i)`:
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- To LYDIA LOPOKOVA
-
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- HER GARLAND
-
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-..
-
- | O thou who comest to our wintry shade
- | Gay and light-footed as the virgin Spring,
- | Before whose shining feet the cherries fling
- | Their moony tribute, when the sloe is sprayed
- | With light, and all things musical are made:
- | O thou who art Spring's daughter, who can bring
- | Blossom, or song of bird, or anything
- | To match the youth in which you stand arrayed?
- | Not that rich garland Meleager twined
- | In his sun-guarded glade above the blue
- | That flashes from the burning Tyrian seas:
- | No, you are cooler, sweeter than the wind
- | That wakes our woodlands; so I bring to you
- | These wind-blown blossoms of anemones.
-
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-.. _`To LYDIA LOPOKOVA (ii)`:
-
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- HER VARIETY
-
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-..
-
- | Soft as a pale moth flitting in moonshine
- | I saw thee flutter to the shadowy call
- | That beckons from the strings of Carneval,
- | O frail and fragrant image of Columbine:
- | So, when the spectre of the rose was thine,
- | A flower wert thou, and last I saw thee fall
- | In Cleopatra's stormy bacchanal
- | Flown with the red insurgence of the vine.
- | O moth, O flower, O mænad, which art thou?
- | Shadowy, beautiful, or leaping wild
- | As stormlight over savage Tartar skies?
- | Such were my ancient questionings; but now
- | I know that you are nothing but a child
- | With a red flower's mouth and hazel eyes.
-
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-.. _`To LYDIA LOPOKOVA (iii)`:
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- HER SWIFTNESS
-
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-
-..
-
- | You are too swift for poetry, too fleet
- | For any musèd numbers to ensnare:
- | Swifter than music dying on the air
- | Or bloom upon rose-petals, fades the sweet
- | Vanishing magic of your flying feet,
- | Your poisèd finger, and your shining hair:
- | Words cannot tell how wonderful you were,
- | Or how one gesture made a joy complete.
- | And since you know my pen may never capture
- | The transient swift loveliness of you,
- | Come, let us salve our sense of the world's loss
- | Remembering, with a melancholy rapture,
- | How many dancing-girls ... and poets too...
- | Dream in the dust of Hecatompylos.
-
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-.. _`GHOSTLY LOVES`:
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- GHOSTLY LOVES
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-..
-
- | 'Oh why,' my darling prayeth me, 'must you sing
- | For ever of ghostly loves, phantasmal passion?
- | Seeing that you never loved me after that fashion
- | And the love I gave was not a phantom thing,
- | But delight of eager lips and strong arms folding
- | The beauty of yielding arms and of smooth shoulder,
- | All fluent grace of which you were the moulder:
- | And I.... Oh, I was happy for your holding.'
- | 'Ah, do you not know, my dearest, have you not seen
- | The shadow that broodeth over things that perish:
- | How age may mock sweet moments that have been
- | And death defile the beauty that we cherish?
- | Wherefore, sweet spirit, I thank thee for thy giving:
- | 'Tis my spirit that embraceth thee dead or living.'
-
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-.. _`FEBRUARY`:
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- FEBRUARY
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-..
-
- | The robin on my lawn,
- | He was the first to tell
- | How, in the frozen dawn,
- | This miracle befell,
- | Waking the meadows white
- | With hoar, the iron road
- | Agleam with splintered light,
- | And ice where water flowed:
- | Till, when the low sun drank
- | Those milky mists that cloak
- | Hanger and hollied bank,
- | The winter world awoke
- | To hear the feeble bleat
- | Of lambs on downland farms:
- | A blackbird whistled sweet;
- | Old beeches moved their arms
- | Into a mellow haze
- | Aerial, newly-born:
- | And I, alone, agaze,
- | Stood waiting for the thorn
- | To break in blossom white
- | Or burst in a green flame...
- | So, in a single night,
- | Fair February came,
- | Bidding my lips to sing
- | Or whisper their surprise,
- | With all the joy of spring
- | And morning in her eyes.
-
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-.. _`SONG OF THE DARK AGES`:
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- SONG OF THE DARK AGES
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-..
-
- | We digged our trenches on the down
- | Beside old barrows, and the wet
- | White chalk we shovelled from below;
- | It lay like drifts of thawing snow
- | On parados and parapet:
-
- | Until a pick neither struck flint
- | Nor split the yielding chalky soil,
- | But only calcined human bone:
- | Poor relic of that Age of Stone
- | Whose ossuary was our spoil.
-
- | Home we marched singing in the rain,
- | And all the while, beneath our song,
- | I mused how many springs should wane
- | And still our trenches scar the plain:
- | The monument of an old wrong.
-
- | But then, I thought, the fair green sod
- | Will wholly cover that white stain,
- | And soften, as it clothes the face
- | Of those old barrows, every trace
- | Of violence to the patient plain.
-
- | And careless people, passing by,
- | Will speak of both in casual tone:
- | Saying: 'You see the toil they made:
- | The age of iron, pick, and spade,
- | Here jostles with the Age of Stone.'
-
- | Yet either from that happier race
- | Will merit but a passing glance;
- | And they will leave us both alone:
- | Poor savages who wrought in stone--
- | Poor savages who fought in France.
-
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-.. _`WINTER SUNSET`:
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- WINTER SUNSET
-
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-..
-
- | Athwart the blackening bars of pines benighted,
- | The sun, descending to the zones of denser
- | Cloud that o'erhung the long horizon, lighted
- | Upon the crown of earth a flaming censer
- | From which white clouds of incense, overflowing,
- | Filled the chill clarity from whence the swallows
- | Had lately fled with wreathèd vapours, showing
- | Like a fine bloom over the lonely fallows:
- | Where, with the pungent breath of mist was blended
- | A faint aroma of pine-needles sodden
- | By autumn rains, and fainter still, ascended
- | Beneath high woods the scent of leaves downtrodden.
- | It was a moment when the earth, that sickened
- | For Spring, as lover when the beloved lingers,
- | Lay breathless, while the distant goddess quickened
- | Some southern hill-side with her glowing fingers:
- | And so, it seemed, the drowsy lands were shaken,
- | Stirred in their sleep, and sighed, as though the pain
- | Of a strange dream had bidden them awaken
- | To frozen days and bitter nights again.
-
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-.. _`SONG (iii)`:
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- SONG
-
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-..
-
- | Why have you stolen my delight
- | In all the golden shows of Spring
- | When every cherry-tree is white
- | And in the limes the thrushes sing,
-
- | O fickler than the April day,
- | O brighter than the golden broom,
- | O blyther than the thrushes' lay,
- | O whiter than the cherry-bloom,
-
- | O sweeter than all things that blow ...
- | Why have you only left for me
- | The broom, the cherry's crown of snow,
- | And thrushes in the linden-tree?
-
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-.. _`ENGLAND, APRIL 1918`:
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- ENGLAND--APRIL, 1918
-
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-..
-
- | Last night the North flew at the throat of Spring
- | With spite to tear her greening banners down,
- | Tossing the elm-tree's tender tassels brown,
- | The virgin blossom of sloe burdening
- | With colder snow; beneath his frosty sting
- | Patient, the newly-wakened woods were bowed
- | By drownèd fields where stormy waters flowed:
- | Yet, on the thorn, I heard a blackbird sing....
- | 'Too late, too late,' he sang, 'this wintry spite;
- | For molten snow will feed the springing grass:
- | The tide of life, it floweth with the year.'
- | O England, England, thou that standest upright
- | Against the tide of death, the bad days pass:
- | Know, by this miracle, that summer is near.
-
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-.. _`SLENDER THEMES`:
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- SLENDER THEMES
-
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-..
-
- | When, by a happier race, these leaves are turned,
- | They'll wonder that such quiet themes engaged
- | A soldier's mind when noisy wars were waged,
- | And half the world in one red bonfire burned.
- | 'When that fierce age,' they'll say, 'went up in flame
- | He lived ... or died, seeing those bright deeds done
- | Whereby our sweet and settled peace was won,
- | Yet offereth slender dreams, not deeds, to Fame.'
- | Then say: 'Out of the heart the mouth speaketh,
- | And mine was as the hearts of other men
- | Whom those dark days impassioned; yet it seeketh
- | To paint the sombre woes that held us then,
- | No more than the cloud-rending levin's light
- | Seeks to illumine the sad skies of night.'
-
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-.. _`INVOCATION`:
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- INVOCATION
-
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-..
-
- | Whither, O, my sweet mistress, must I follow thee?
- | For when I hear thy distant footfall nearing,
- | And wait on thy appearing,
- | Lo! my lips are silent: no words come to me.
-
- | Once I waylaid thee in green forest covers,
- | Hoping that spring might free my lips with gentle fingers;
- | Alas! her presence lingers
- | No longer than on the plain the shadow of brown kestrel hovers.
-
- | Through windless ways of the night my spirit followed after;--
- | Cold and remote were they, and there, possessed
- | By a strange unworldly rest,
- | Awaiting thy still voice heard only starry laughter.
-
- | The pillared halls of sleep echoed my ghostly tread.
- | Yet when their secret chambers I essayed
- | My spirit sank, dismayed,
- | Waking in fear to find the new-born vision fled.
-
- | Once indeed--but then my spirit bloomed in leafy rapture--
- | I loved; and once I looked death in the eyes:
- | So, suddenly made wise,
- | Spoke of such beauty as I may never recapture....
-
- | Whither, O, divine mistress, must I then follow thee?
- | Is it only in love ... say, is it only in death
- | That the spirit blossometh,
- | And words that may match my vision shall come to me?
-
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-.. _`THAMAR`:
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- THAMAR
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- (*To Thamar Karsavina*)
-
- | Once in the sombre light of the throng'd courts of night,
- | In a dream-haunted land only inhabited
- | By the unhappy dead, came one who, anxious eyed,
- | Clung to my idle hand with clenched fingers weak
- | And gazed into my eyes as he had wrongs to speak.
- | Silent he stood and wan, more pallid than the leaves
- | Of an aspen blown under a wind that grieves.
- | Then I: 'O haggard one, say from what ghostly zone
- | Of thwarted destinies or torment hast thou come?
- | Tell me thy race and name!' And he, with veiled face:
- | 'I have neither name nor race, but I have travelled far,
- | A timeless avatar of never-ending dooms,
- | Out of those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star
- | In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar...
- | Once in a lonely dawn my eager spirit fared
- | By ways that no men dared unto a desert land,
- | Where, on a sullen strand, a mouldering city, vast
- | As towered Babylon, stood in the dreamy sand--
- | Older a million years: Babel was builded on
- | That broken city's tears; dust of her crumbled past
- | Rose from the rapid wheels of Babel's charioteers
- | In whorled clouds above those shining thoroughfares
- | Where Babel's millions tread on her unheeding dead.
- | Forth from an eastern gate where the lips of Asia wait
- | Parch'd with an ancient thirst that no æons can abate,
- | Passed I, predestinate, to a thorn'd desert's drought,
- | Where the rivers of the south, flowing in a cloudy spate,
- | Spend at last their splendid strength in a sea of molten glass
- | Seething with the brazen might of a white sun dipped at length
- | Like a baked stone, burning hot, plunged in a hissing pot.
- | Out of that solemn portal over the tawny waste,
- | Without stay, without haste, nor the joy of any mortal
- | Glance of eye or clasp of hand, desolate, in a burning land,
- | Lonely days and nights I travelled and the changing seasons squandered
- | Friendless, endlessly, I wandered nor my woven fate unravelled;
- | Drawn to a hidden goal, sore, forlorn with waiting,
- | Seeking I knew not what, yet unhesitating
- | Struggled my hapless soul...
- | There, in a thousand springs,
- | Slow, beneath frozen snow, where the blind earth lay cringing,
- | Have I seen the steppe unfold uncounted blossomings,
- | Where salty pools shone fair in a quivering blue air
- | That shivered every fringing reed-bed with cool delight,
- | And fanned the mazy flight of slow-wing'd egrets white
- | Beating and wheeling bright against the sun astare;
- | But I could not hear their wings for they were ghostly things
- | Sent by the powers of night to mock my sufferings
- | And rain upon the bitter waterpools their drops aglitter.
- | Yet, when these lakes accursed tortured my aching thirst,
- | The green reeds fell to dust, the cool pools to a crust
- | Of frozen salt crystallised to taunt my broken lips,
- | To cheat my staring eyes, as a vision of great ships
- | With moving towers of sail, poops throng'd with grinning crowds
- | And a wind in their shrouds, bears down upon the pale
- | Wasted castaway afloat with the salt in his throat
- | And a feeble wild desire to be quenched of his fire
- | In the green gloom beneath.
- | So, again and again,
- | Hath a phantom city thrust to the visionary vault
- | Of inviolate cobalt, dome and dreaming minaret
- | Mosque and gleaming water-tower hazy in a fountain's jet
- | Or a market's rising dust; and my lips have cried aloud
- | To see them tremble there, though I knew within my heart
- | They were chiselled out of cloud or carven of thin air;
- | And my fingers clenched my hand, for I wondered if this land
- | Of my stony pilgrimage were a glimmering mirage,
- | And I myself no more than a phantom of the sand.
- | 'But beyond these fading slender cities, many leagues away,
- | Strange brooding mountains lay heaped, crowding range on range
- | In a changing cloudy splendour; and beyond, in lakes of light,
- | As eastward still I staggered, there swam into my sight,
- | More vast and hoar and haggard, shoulders of ice and snow
- | Bounding the heavens low of burnished brass, whereunder
- | The hot plains of Cathay perpetually slumber:
- | Where tawny millions breed in cities without number,
- | Whither, a hill-born thunder, rolling on Tartary
- | With torrents and barb'd lightning, swelleth the yellow river
- | To a tumult of whitening foam and confusèd might
- | That drowns in a single night many a mud-made city;
- | And cities of boats, and frail cities of lath and reed,
- | Are whirled away without pity or set afloat in a pale,
- | Swirling, shallow sea ... and their names seem lost for ever
- | Till a stranger nomad race drive their herds to the sad place
- | Where old sorrows lie forgotten, and raise upon the rotten
- | Level waste another brood to await another flood.
- | 'But I never might attain to this melancholy plain
- | For the mountains rose between; stark in my path they lay
- | Between me and Cathay, through moving mist half-seen.
- | And I knew that they were real, for their drooping folds of cloud
- | Enwrapped me in a shroud, and the air that fell at night
- | From their frozen summits white slid like an ice-blue steel
- | Into my living breast and stilled the heart within
- | As the chill of an old sin that robs a man of rest,
- | Killing all delight in the silence of the night
- | And brooding black above till the heart dare not move
- | But lieth cold and numb ... and the dawn will not come.
- | 'Yet to me a dawn came, new-kindled in cold flame,
- | Flinging the imminence of those inviolate snows
- | On the forest lawns below in a shadow more immense
- | Than their eternal vastness; and a new hope beyond reason,
- | Flamed in my heart's dark season, dazzled my pallid eyes,
- | Till, when the hot sun soared above the uttermost height,
- | A draught of keen delight into my body was poured,
- | For all that frozen fastness lay flowered with the spring:
- | Her starry blossoms broke beneath my bruisèd feet,
- | And their beauty was so sweet to me I kissed them where they lay;
- | Yea, I bent my weary hips and kissed them with dry lips,
- | Tenderly, only dreading lest their petals delicate
- | Should be broken by my treading, for I lived, I lived again,
- | And my heart would have been broken by a living creature's pain,
- | So I kissed them for a token of my joy in their new birth,
- | And I kissed the gentle earth. Slowly the shadows crept
- | To the bases of the crags, and I slept....
- | 'Once, in another life, had I remembered sleep,
- | When tired children creep on to their mother's knees,
- | And there a dreamless peace more quietly descendeth
- | Than gentle evening endeth or ring-doves fold their wings,
- | Before the nightjar spins or the nightingale begins;
- | When the brooding hedgerow trees where they nest lie awake
- | And breathe so soft they shake not a single shuddering leaf
- | Lest the silence should break.
- | 'Other sleep have I known,
- | Deeper, beyond belief, when straining limbs relax
- | After hot human toil in yellow harvest fields
- | Where the panting earth yields a smell of baked soil,
- | And the dust of dry stubbles blows over the whitening
- | Shocks of lank grain and bundles of flax,
- | And men fling themselves down forgetting their troubles,
- | Unheedful of the song that the landrail weaves along
- | Misty woodlands, or lightning that the pale sky laves
- | Like phosphorescent waves washing summer seas:
- | And, more beautiful than these, that sleep of dazèd wonder
- | When love has torn asunder the veils of the sky
- | And raptured lovers lie faint in each other's arms
- | Beneath a heaven strewn with myriad starry swarms,
- | Where planets float like lonely gold-flowered nenuphars
- | In pools of the sky; yet, when they wake, they turn
- | From those burning galaxies seeking heaven only
- | In each other's eyes, and sigh, and sleep again;
- | For while they sleep they seem to forget the world's pain,
- | And when they wake, they dream....
- | 'But other sleep was mine
- | As I had drunk of wine with bitter hemlock steep'd,
- | Or sousèd with the heapèd milky poppyheads
- | A drowsy Tartar treads where slow waters sweep
- | Over red river beds, and the air is heavy with sleep.
- | So, when I woke at last, the labouring earth had rolled
- | Eastward under the vast dominion of night,
- | Funereal, forlorn as that unlighted chamber
- | Wherein she first was born, bereft of all starlight,
- | Pale silver of the moon, or the low sun's amber.
- | 'Then to my queen I prayed, grave Ashtoreth, whose shade
- | Hallows the dim abyss of Heliopolis,
- | Where many an olive maid clashed kissing Syrian cymbals,
- | And silver-sounding timbrels shivered through the vale.
- | O lovely, and O white, under the holy night
- | Is their gleaming wonder, and their brows are pale
- | As the new risen moon, dancing till they swoon
- | In far forests under desolate Lebanon,
- | While the flame of Moloch's pyre reddens the sea-born cloud
- | That overshadows Tyre; so, when I cried aloud,
- | Behold, a torch of fire leapt on the mountain-side!
- | 'O bright, O beautiful! for never kindlier light
- | Fell on the darkened sight of mortal eyes and dull
- | Since that devoted one, whom gloomy Caucasus
- | In icy silence lonely bound to his cruel shoulders,
- | Brought to benighted men in a hollow fennel-stem
- | Sparks of the torrid vapour that burned behind the bars
- | Of evening, broke dawn's rose, or smouldered in the stars,
- | Or lit the glowworm's taper, or wavered over the fen,
- | Or tipped the javelin of the far-ravening levin,
- | Lash of the Lord of Heaven and bitter scourge of sin.
- | O beautiful, O bright! my tired sinews strained
- | To this torch that flared and waned as a watery planet gloweth
- | And waneth in the night when a calm sea floweth
- | Under a misty sky spread with the tattered veils
- | Of rapid cloud driven over the deeps of heaven
- | By winds that range too high to sweep the languid sails.
- | On through the frozen night, like a blind moth flying
- | With battered wing and bruisèd bloom into a light,
- | I dragged my ragged limbs, cared not if I were dying,
- | Knew not if I were dead, where cavernous crevasses,
- | And stony desperate passes snared, waylaid my tread:
- | In the roar of broken boulders split from rocky shoulders,
- | In the thunder of snow sliding, or under the appalling
- | Rending of glacier ice or hoarse cataracts falling:
- | And I knew not what could save me but the unholy guiding
- | That some demon gave me. Thrice I fell, and thrice
- | In torrents of blue ice-water slipp'd and was toss'd
- | Like a dead leaf, or a ghost
- | Harried by thin bufferings of wind
- | Downward to Tartarus at daybreak,
- | Downward to the regions of the lost....
- | But the rushing waters ceased, and the bitter wind fell:
- | How I cannot tell, unless that I had come
- | To the hollow heart of the storm where the wind is dumb;
- | And there my gelid blood thawed, glowed, and grew warm,
- | While a black-hooded form caught at my arm, and stayed
- | And held me as I swayed, until, at last, I saw
- | In a strange unworldly awe, at the gate of light I stood:
- | And I entered, alone....
- | 'Behold a cavern of stone carven, and in the midst
- | A brazier that hissed with tongued flames, leaping
- | Over whitened embers of gummy frankincense,
- | Into a fume of dense and fragrant vapour, creeping
- | Over the roof to spread a milky coverlet
- | Softer than the woof of webby spider's net.
- | But never spider yet spun a more delicate wonder
- | Than that which hung thereunder, drooping fold on fold,
- | Silks that glowed with fire of tawny Oxus gold,
- | Richer than ever flowed from the eager fancy of man
- | In his vain desire for beauty that endures:
- | And on the floor were spread by many a heaped daiwan
- | Carpets of Kurdistan, cured skins, and water-ewers
- | Encrusted with such gems as emperors of Hind
- | (Swart conquerors, long dead) sought for their diadems.
-
- | No other light was there but one torch, flaring
- | Against a square of sky possess'd by the wind,
- | And never another sound but the tongued flames creeping.
- | 'At last, my eyes staring into the clouded gloom,
- | Saw that the caverned room with shadowy forms was strewn
- | In heavy sleep or swoon fallen, who did not move
- | But lay as mortals lie in the sweet release of love.
- | And stark between them stood huge eunuchs of ebony,
- | Mute, motionless, as they had been carven of black wood.
- | But these I scarcely saw, for, through the flame was seen
- | Another, a queen, with heavy closèd eyes
- | White against the skies of that empurpled night
- | In her loveliness she lay, and leaned upon her hand:
- | And my blood leapt at the sight, so that I could not stand
- | But fell upon my knees, pleading, and cried aloud
- | For her white loveliness as Ixion for his cloud:
- | And my cry the silence broke, and the sleepers awoke
- | From their slumber, stirred, and rose every one,--save those
- | Mute eunuchs of ebony, those frowning caryatides.
- | Slowly she looked at me, and when I cried again
- | In yearning and in pain, she beckoned with her hand.
- | Then from my knees rose I, and greatly daring,
- | Through the hazy air, past the brazier flaring
- | And the hissing flame, crept, until I came
- | Unto the carven seat, and kissed her white feet;
- | And she smiled, but spake not.
- | When she smiled the sleepers wavered as the grass
- | Of a cornfield wavers when the ears are swept
- | By the breath of brown reapers singing as they pass,
- | Or grass of woody glades when a wind that has slept
- | Wakens, and invades their moonlit solitude,
- | When the hazels shiver and the birch is blown
- | To a billow of silver, but oaks in the wood
- | Stand firm nor quiver, stand firm as stone:
- | So, amid the sleepers, the black eunuchs stood.
- | When the sleepers stirred faintly in the heat
- | Of that painted room a silken sound I heard,
- | And a thin music, sweet as the brown nightingale
- | Sings in the jealous shade of a lonely spinney,
- | Stranger far than any music mortal made
- | Fell softer than the dew falleth when stars are pale.
- | Sweet it was, and clear as light, or as the tears
- | That sad Narcissus wears in the spring of the year
- | On barren mountain ranges where rain falls cool
- | And every lonely pool is sprayed with broken light:
- | So cool, so beautiful, and so divinely strange
- | I doubted if it came from any marshy reed
- | Or hollow fluting stem pluck'd by the hands of men,
- | Unless it were indeed that airy fugitive
- | Syrinx, who cried and ran before the laughing eyes
- | Of goat-footed Pan, and must for ever live
- | A shadowy green reed by an Arcadian river--
- | But never music made of Ladon's reedy daughter
- | Or singing river-water more sweet than that which stole,
- | Slow as amber honey wells from the honeycomb,
- | Into my weary soul with solace and strange peace.
- | So, trembling as I lay in a dream more desolate
- | Than is the darkened day of the mid-winter north,
- | I heard the voice of one who sang in a strange tongue,
- | And I know not what he sang save that he sang of love,
- | The while they led me forth unheeding, till we came
- | Unto a chamber lit with one slow-burning flame
- | That yellow horn bedims, and laid me down, and there
- | They soothed my bruised limbs, and combed my tangled hair,
- | And salved my limbs with rarely-mingled unguents pressed
- | By hands of holy ones who dream beneath the suns
- | Of Araby the Blest, and so, when they had bathed
- | My burning eyes with milk of dreamy anodyne
- | And cool'd my throat with wine,
- | In robings of cool silk my broken body they swathed,
- | Sandals of gold they placed upon my feet, and round
- | My sad sun-blistered brows a silver fillet bound--
- | Decking me with the pride of a bridegroom that goes
- | To the joy of his bride and is lovely in her eyes--
- | And led me to her side. Then, as a conquering prince,
- | I, who long since had been battered and tost
- | Like a dead leaf or ghost buffeted by wild storms,
- | Came to her white arms, conquering, and was lost,
- | Yet dared not gaze upon the beauty that I dreamed.
- | So, in my trance, it seemed that a shadowy soft dance
- | Coiled slowly and unwound, swayed, beckoned, and recovered
- | As hooded cobra bound by hollow spells of sound
- | Unto the piper sways; so silently they hovered
- | I only heard the beat of their naked feet,
- | And then, another sound....
- | A dull throb thrumming, a noise of faint drumming,
- | Threatening, coming nearer, piercing deeper
- | Than a dream lost in the heart of a sleeper
- | Into those deeps where the dark fire gloweth,
- | The secret flame that every man knoweth,
- | Embers that smoulder, fires that none can fan,
- | Terrible, older than the mind of man....
- | Before he crawled from his swamp and spurned
- | The life of the beast that dark fire burned
- | In the hidden deeps where no dream can come:
- | Only the throbbing of a drum
- | Can wake it from its smouldering--
- | Sightless, soundless, senseless, dumb--
- | Dumb as those blind seeds that lie
- | Drown'd in mud, and shuddering,
- | I knew that I was man no more,
- | But a throbbing core of flesh, that knew
- | Nor beauty, nor truth, nor anything
- | But the black sky and the slimy earth:
- | Roots of trees, and fear, and pain,
- | The blank of death, the pangs of birth,
- | An inhuman thing possess'd
- | By the throbbing of a drum:
- | And my lips were strange and numb,
- | But they kissed her white breast....
- | Then, being drunk with pride and splendour of love, I cried:
- | '"O spring of all delight, O moonèd mystery,
- | O living marvel, white as the dead queen of night,
- | O flower, and O flame ... tell me at least thy name
- | That, from this desolate height, I may proclaim its wonder
- | To the lost lands hereunder before thy beauty dies
- | As fades the fire of dawn upon a peak of snow!"'
- | Then: "Look," she sighed, "into my eyes, and thou shalt know."
- | So, with her fingers frail, she pressed my brows, and so,
- | Slowly, at last, she raised my drooping eyelids pale,
- | And in her eyes I gazed.
- | 'Then fear, than love more blind,
- | Caught at my heart and fast in chains of horror bound--
- | As one who in profound and midnight forest ways
- | Sees in the dark the burning eyes of a tiger barred
- | Or stealthy footed pard blaze in a solemn hate
- | And lust of human blood, yet cannot cry, nor turning
- | Flee from the huddled wood, but stands and sees his fate,
- | Or one who in a black night, groping for his track,
- | Clings to the dizzy verge of a cragged precipice,
- | Shrinks from the dim abyss, yet dare not venture back,
- | And no sound hears but the hiss of empty air
- | Swirling past his ears.... So, in a hideous
- | Abandonment of hope, I waited for her kiss.
- | Then the restless beat of the muttering drum
- | Rose to a frenzied heat; the naked dancers leapt
- | Insolent through the flame, laughing as they came
- | With parted lips; their cries deadened my ears, my eyes
- | Throbbed with the pattering of their rapid feet,
- | And the whirling dust of their dancing swept
- | Into my throat unslaked, dry-parchèd with love's drought,
- | Until my mouth was pressed upon her burning mouth
- | In a kiss most terrible.... Oh, was it pride, or shame
- | Unending, without name, or ecstasy, or pain
- | Or desperate desire? Alas! I cannot tell,
- | Save that it pierced my trembling soul and body with fire.
- | For, while her soft lips clove to mine in love, she drove
- | A flaming blade of steel into my breast, and I,
- | Rent with a bitter cry, slid from her side and fell
- | Clutching in dumb despair the dark unbraided hair
- | My passion had despoiled; while she, like serpent coiled,
- | Poised for another stroke, terribly, slowly, smiled,
- | Saying: "O stranger, red, red are my lips, and sweet
- | Unto those lips so red are the kisses of the dead:
- | Far hast thou wandered, far, for the kisses of Thamar."
- | Then a deep silence fell on the frenzy and the laughter;
- | The leaping dancers crept to the shadows where they had slept,
- | And the mute eunuchs stood forth, and hugely bent
- | Above my body, spent in its pool of blood,
- | And hove me with black arms, while the queen followed after
- | With stealthy steps, and eyes that burned into the night
- | Of my dying brain, till, with her hand, she bade
- | Them falter, and they stayed, while, eagerly, she propped
- | My listless head that dropped downward from my shoulders,
- | And slowly raised it up, raised it like a cup
- | Unto her lips again,
- | Then shuddered, trembled, shrunk, as though her mouth had drunk
- | A potion where the fell fire of poison smoulders.
- | And a darkness came, and I could see no more,
- | But in my ears the roar of lonely torrents swelled
- | And stilled my breath for ever, as though a wave appalling
- | Had broken in my brain, and deep to deep were calling:
- | And I felt my body falling down and down and down
- | Into a blank of death, where dumb waters roll
- | Endlessly, only knowing, that her dagger had stabbed my breast,
- | But her kiss had killed my soul.
- | And now I know no rest until again I stand
- | Where that lost city's towers rise from the dreamy sand,
- | Until I reach the gate where the lips of Asia wait,
- | Till I cross the desert's drought, and the rivers of the south,
- | And shiver through the night under those summits white
- | That soar above Cathay; until I see the light
- | Flame from those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star
- | In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar.'
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`ENVOI`:
-
-.. class:: left large
-
- ENVOI
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Now that the hour has come, and under the lonely
- | Darkness I stumble at the doors of death,
- | It is not hope, nor faith
- | That here my spirit sustaineth, but love only.
-
- | In visions, in love: only there have I clutched at divinity:
- | But the vision fadeth; yet love fades not: and for this
- | I would have you know that your kiss
- | Was more to me than all my hopes of infinity.
-
- | Therein you made me divine ... you, who were moon and sun for me,
- | You, for whose beauty I would have forsaken the splendour of the stars
- | And my shadowy avatars
- | Renounced: for there is nothing in the world you have not done for me.
-
- | So that when at length all sentient skill hath forsaken me,
- | And the bright world beats vainly on my consciousness,
- | Your beauty shineth no less:
- | And even if I were dead I think your shadow would awaken me.
-
-.. vspace:: 6
-
-.. pgfooter::
diff --git a/40344-rst/images/img-cover.jpg b/40344-rst/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 74a77df..0000000 --- a/40344-rst/images/img-cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/40344.txt b/40344.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c621d5c..0000000 --- a/40344.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2495 +0,0 @@ - POEMS - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Title: Poems - 1916-1918 - -Author: Francis Brett Young - -Release Date: July 26, 2012 [EBook #40344] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - - POEMS - - 1916-1918 - - - BY - - FRANCIS BRETT YOUNG - - - - - LONDON: 48 PALL MALL - W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD. - GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND - - - - - Copyright 1919 - - - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR - -_Novels:_ - - THE YOUNG PHYSICIAN - THE CRESCENT MOON - THE IRON AGE - THE DARK TOWER - DEEP SEA - UNDERGROWTH (with E. Brett Young) - - -_Poems:_ - - FIVE DEGREES SOUTH - - -_Belles Lettres:_ - - ROBERT BRIDGES: A Critical Study - MARCHING ON TANGA - - - - - TO - EDYTH GOODALL - - -_Remember thus our sweet conspiracy: -That I, having dreamed a lovely thing, with dull -Words marred it--and you gave it back to me -A thousand, thousand times more beautiful._ - - - - - ERRATA - -Page 26, line 17, _for_ "Lybian" _read_ "Libyan." -Page 46, line 9, _for_ "lythe" _read_ "lithe." -Page 70, line 13, _for_ "tyrranous" _read_ "tyrannous." - - -[Transcriber's note: the above errata have been applied to this etext. -The word "Lybia" was also on page 32, and was corrected as above. -Similarly, "tyrranous" was also on page 86, and was corrected.] - - - - - CONTENTS - - -PROTHALAMION -TESTAMENT -LOCHANILAUN -LETTERMORE -LAMENT -THE LEMON-TREE -PHTHONOS -EASTER -THE LEANING ELM -THE JOYOUS LOVER -DEAD POETS -PORTON WATER -AN OLD HOUSE -THE DHOWS -THE GIFT -FIVE DEGREES SOUTH -104 deg. FAHRENHEIT -FEVER-TREES -THE RAIN-BIRD -MOTHS -BETE HUMAINE -DOVES -SONG (i) -BEFORE ACTION -ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION -AFTER ACTION -SONNET -A FAREWELL TO AFRICA -SONG (ii) -THE HAWTHORN SPRAY -THE PAVEMENT -TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (i) -TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (ii) -TO LYDIA LOPOKOVA (iii) -GHOSTLY LOVES -FEBRUARY -SONG OF THE DARK AGES -WINTER SUNSET -SONG (iii) -ENGLAND, APRIL 1918 -SLENDER THEMES -INVOCATION -THAMAR -ENVOI - - - - -PROTHALAMION - - - When the evening came my love said to me: - Let us go into the garden now that the sky is cool, - The garden of black hellebore and rosemary, - Where wild woodruff spills in a milky pool. - - Low we passed in the twilight, for the wavering heat - Of day had waned, and round that shaded plot - Of secret beauty the thickets clustered sweet: - Here is heaven, our hearts whispered, but our lips spake not. - - Between that old garden and seas of lazy foam - Gloomy and beautiful alleys of trees arise - With spire of cypress and dreamy beechen dome, - So dark that our enchanted sight knew nothing but the skies - - Veiled with soft air, drench'd in the roses' musk - Or the dusky, dark carnation's breath of clove; - No stars burned in their deeps, but through the dusk - I saw my love's eyes, and they were brimmed with love. - - No star their secret ravished, no wasting moon - Mocked the sad transience of those eternal hours: - Only the soft, unseeing heaven of June, - The ghosts of great trees, and the sleeping flowers. - - For doves that crooned in the leafy noonday now - Were silent; the night-jar sought his secret covers, - Nor even a mild sea-whisper moved a creaking bough-- - Was ever a silence deeper made for lovers? - - Was ever a moment meeter made for love? - Beautiful are your closed lips beneath my kiss; - And all your yielding sweetness beautiful-- - Oh, never in all the world was such a night as this! - - - - -TESTAMENT - - - If I had died, and never seen the dawn - For which I hardly hoped, lighting this lawn - Of silvery grasses; if there had been no light, - And last night merged into perpetual night; - I doubt if I should ever have been content - To have closed my eyes without some testament - To the great benefits that marked my faring - Through the sweet world; for all my joy was sharing - And lonely pleasures were few. Unto which end - Three legacies I'll send, - Three legacies, already half possess'd: - One to a friend, of all good friends the best, - Better than which is nothing; yet another - Unto thy twin, dissimilar spirit, Brother; - The third to you, - Most beautiful, most true, - Most perfect one, to whom they all are due. - - Quick, quick ... while there is time.... - O best of friends, I leave you one sublime - Summer, one fadeless summer. 'Twas begun - Ere Cotswold hawthorn tarnished in the sun, - When hedges were fledged with green, and early swallows - Swift-darting, on curved wings, pillaged the fallows; - When all our vale was dappled blossom and light, - And oh, the scent of beanfields in the night! - You shall remember that rich dust at even - Which made old Evesham like a street in heaven, - Gold-paved, and washed within a wave of golden - Air all her dreamy towers and gables olden. - You shall remember - How arms sun-blistered, hot palms crack'd with rowing, - Clove the cool water of Avon, sweetly flowing; - And how our bodies, beautifully white, - Stretch'd to a long stroke lengthened in green light, - And we, emerging, laughed in childish wise, - And pressed the kissing water from our eyes. - Ah, was our laughter childish, or were we wise? - And then, crown of the day, a tired returning - With happy sunsets over Bredon burning, - With music and with moonlight, and good ale, - And no thought for the morrow.... Heavy phlox - Our garden pathways bordered, and evening stocks, - Those humble weeds, in sunlight withered and pale, - With a night scent to match the nightingale, - Gladdened with spiced sweetness sweet night's shadows, - Meeting the breath of hay from mowing meadows: - As humble was our joy, and as intense - Our rapture. So, before I hurry hence, - Yours be the memory. - One night again, - When we were men, and had striven, and known pain, - By a dark canal debating, unresigned, - On the blind fate that shadows humankind, - On the blind sword that severs human love... - Then did the hidden belfry from above - On troubled minds in benediction shed - The patience of the great anonymous dead - Who reared those towers, those high cathedrals builded - In solemn stone, and with clear fancy gilded - A beauty beyond ours, trusting in God. - Then dared we follow the dark way they trod, - And bowing to the universal plan - Trust in the true and fiery spirit of Man. - - And you, my Brother, - You know, as knows one other, - How my spirit revisiteth a room - In a high wing, beneath pine-trees, where gloom - Dwelleth, dispelled by resinous wood embers, - Where, in half-darkness ... How the heart remembers... - We talked of beauty, and those fiery things - To which the divine desirous spirit clings, - In a wing'd rapture to that heaven flinging, - Where beauty is an easy thing, and singing - The natural speech of man. Like kissing swords - Our wits clashed there; the brittle beauty of words - Breaking, seemed to discover its secret heart - And all the rapt elusiveness of Art. - Now I have known sorrow, and now I sing - That a lovely word is not an idle thing; - For as with stars the cloth of night is spangled, - With star-like words, most lovelily entangled, - The woof of sombre thought is deckt.... Ah, bright - And cold they glitter in the spirit's night! - But neither distant nor dispassionate; - For beauty is an armour against fate.... - I tell you, who have stood in the dark alone. - Seeing the face that turneth all to stone, - Medusa, blind with hate, - While I was dying, Beauty sate with me - Nor tortured any longer; gracious was she; - To her soft words I listened, and was content - To die, nor sorry that my light was spent. - So, Brother, if I come not home, - Go to that little room - That my spirit revisiteth, and there, - Somewhere in the blue air, you shall discover - If that you be a lover - Nor haughtily minded, all that once half-shaped - Then fled us, and escaped: - All that I found that day, - Far, so far away. - - And you, my lovely one, - What can I leave to you, who, you having left, - Am utterly bereft? - What in my store of visionary dowers - Is not already yours? - What silences, what hours - Of peace passing all understanding; days - Made lyric by your beauty and its praise; - Years neither time can tarnish, nor death mar, - Wherein you shined as steadfast as a star - In my bleak night, heedless of the cloud-wrack - Scudding in torn fleeces black - Of my dark moods, as those who rule the far - Star-haunted pleasaunces of heaven are? - So think but lightly of that afternoon - With white clouds climbing a blue sky in June - When a boy worshipped under dreaming trees, - Who touched your hand, and sought your eyes. - ... Ah, cease, - Not these, not these... - Nor yet those nights when icy Brathay thundered - Under his bridges, and ghostly mountains wondered - At the white blossoming of a Christmas rose - More stainless than their snows; - Nor even of those placid days together - Mellow as early autumn's amber weather - When beech is ankleted with fire, and old - Elms wear their livery of yellow gold, - When orchards all are laden with increase, - And the quiet earth hath fruited, and knows peace - Oh, think not overmuch on those sweet years - Lest their last fruit be tears,-- - Your tears, beloved, that were my utmost pain,-- - But rather, dream again - How that a lover, half poet and half child, - An eager spirit of fragile fancies wild - Compact, adored the beauty and truth in you: - To your own truth be true; - And when, not mournfully, you turn this page - Consider still your starry heritage, - Continue in your loveliness, a star - To gladden me from afar - Even where there is no light - In my last night. - - - - -LOCHANILAUN - - - This is the image of my last content: - My soul shall be a little lonely lake, - So hidden that no shadow of man may break - The folding of its mountain battlement; - Only the beautiful and innocent - Whiteness of sea-born cloud drooping to shake - Cool rain upon the reed-beds, or the wake - Of churn'd cloud in a howling wind's descent. - For there shall be no terror in the night - When stars that I have loved are born in me, - And cloudy darkness I will hold most fair; - But this shall be the end of my delight: - That you, my lovely one, may stoop and see - Your image in the mirrored beauty there. - - - - -LETTERMORE - - - These winter days on Lettermore - The brown west wind it sweeps the bay, - And icy rain beats on the bare - Unhomely fields that perish there: - The stony fields of Lettermore - That drink the white Atlantic spray. - - And men who starve on Lettermore, - Cursing the haggard, hungry surf, - Will souse the autumn's bruised grains - To light dark fires within their brains - And fight with stones on Lettermore - Or sprawl beside the smoky turf. - - When spring blows over Lettermore - To bloom the ragged furze with gold, - The lovely south wind's living breath - Is laden with the smell of death: - For fever breeds on Lettermore - To waste the eyes of young and old. - - A black van comes to Lettermore; - The horses stumble on the stones, - The drivers curse,--for it is hard - To cross the hills from Oughterard - And cart the sick from Lettermore: - A stinking load of rags and bones. - - But you will go to Lettermore - When white sea-trout are on the run, - When purple glows between the rocks - About Lord Dudley's fishing-box - Adown the road to Lettermore, - And wide seas tarnish in the sun. - - And so you'll think of Lettermore - As a lost island of the blest: - With peasant lovers in a blue - Dim dusk, with heather drench'd in dew, - And the sweet peace of Lettermore - Remote and dreaming in the West. - - - - -LAMENT - - - Once, I think, a finer fire - Touched my lips, and then I sang - Half the songs of my desire: - With their splendour the world rang. - - And their sweetness made me free - Of those starry ways whereby - Planets make their minstrelsy - In echoing, unending sky. - - So, before that spell was broken, - Song of the wind, surge of the sea,-- - Beautiful passionate things unspoken - Rose like a breaking wave in me: - - Rose like a wave with curled crest - That green sunlight splinters through... - But the wave broke within my breast: - And now I am a man like you. - - - - -THE LEMON-TREE - - - Last night, last night, a vision of you - Sweetly troubled my waking dream: - Beneath the clear Algerian blue - You stood with lifted eyes: the beam - Of a winter sun beat on the crown - Of a lemon-tree, whose delicate fruit - Like pale lamps hung airily down; - And in your gazing eyes a mute - And lovely wonder.... Have I sung - Of slender things and naught beside? - You were so beautifully young - I must have kissed you or have died. - - - - -PHTHONOS - -If, in high jealousy, God made me blind -And laughed to see me stumble in the night, -Driving his many-splintered arrows of light -Into that lost dominion of my mind; -Then, knowing me still unvext and unresigned, -Stole from my ears all homely sounds that might -Temper the darkness, saying, in heaven's despite, -I had not wholly left the world behind; -So, sunless, soundless, if, to make an end, -He smote the nerves that move, the nerves that feel: -Even then, O jealous one, I would not complain -If I were spared the wealth I cannot spend, -If I were left the treasure none can steal: -The lovely words that wander through my brain. - - - - -EASTER - - - Adown our lane at Eastertide - Hosts of dancing bluebells lay - In pools of light: and 'Oh,' you cried, - 'Look, look at them: I think that they - Are bluer than the laughing sea,' - And 'Look!' you cried, 'a piece of the sky - Has fallen down for you and me - To gaze upon and love.' ... And I, - Seeing in your eyes the dancing blue - And in your heart the innocent birth - Of a pure delight, I knew, I knew - That heaven had fallen upon earth. - - - - -THE LEANING ELM - - - Before my window, in days of winter hoar - Huddled a mournful wood: - Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore, - In stony sleep they stood: - But you, unhappy elm, the angry west - Had chosen from the rest, - Flung broken on your brothers' branches bare, - And left you leaning there - So dead that when the breath of winter cast - Wild snow upon the blast, - The other living branches, downward bowed, - Shook free their crystal shroud - And shed upon your blackened trunk beneath, - Their livery of death.... - - On windless nights between the beechen bars - I watched cold stars - Throb whitely in the sky, and dreamily - Wondered if any life lay locked in thee: - If still the hidden sap secretly moved, - As water in the icy winterbourne - Floweth unheard; - And half I pitied you your trance forlorn: - You could not hear, I thought, the voice of any bird, - The shadowy cries of bats in dim twilight - Or cool voices of owls crying by night.... - Hunting by night under the horned moon: - Yet half I envied you your wintry swoon, - Till, on this morning mild, the sun, new-risen - Steals from his misty prison; - - The frozen fallows glow, the black trees shaken - In a clear flood of sunlight vibrating awaken: - And lo, your ravaged bole, beyond belief - Slenderly fledged anew with tender leaf - As pale as those twin vanes that break at last - In a tiny fan above the black beech-mast - Where no blade springeth green - But pallid bells of the shy helleborine. - What is this ecstasy that overwhelms - The dreaming earth? See, the embrowned elms - Crowding purple distances warm the depths of the wood; - A new-born wind tosses their tassels brown, - His white clouds dapple the down; - Into a green flame bursting the hedgerows stand; - Soon, with banners flying, Spring will walk the land.... - - There is no day for thee, my soul, like this, - No spring of lovely words. Nay, even the kiss - Of mortal love that maketh man divine - This light cannot outshine: - Nay, even poets, they whose frail hands catch - The shadow of vanishing beauty, may not match - This leafy ecstasy. Sweet words may cull - Such magical beauty as time may not destroy; - But we, alas, are not more beautiful: - We cannot flower in beauty as in joy. - We sing, our mused words are sped, and then - Poets are only men - Who age, and toil, and sicken.... This maim'd tree - May stand in leaf when I have ceased to be. - - - - -THE JOYOUS LOVER - - - O, now that I am free as the air - And fleet as clouds above, - I will wander everywhere - Over the ways I love. - - Lightly, lightly will I pass - Nor scatter as I go - A shadow on the blowing grass - Or a footprint in the snow. - - All the wild things of the wood - That once were timid and shy - They shall not flee their solitude - For fear, when I pass by; - - And beauty, beauty, the wide world over, - Shall blush when I draw near: - She knows her lover, the joyous lover, - And greets him without fear. - - But if I come to the dark room - From which our love hath fled - And bend above you in the gloom - Or kneel beside your bed, - - Smile soft in your sleep, my beautiful one, - For if you should say 'Nay' - To the dream which visiteth you alone, - My joy would wither away. - - - - -DEAD POETS - - - -ODE WRITTEN AT WILTON HOUSE - - - Last night, amazed, I trod on holy ground - Breathing an air that ancient poets knew, - Where, in a valley compassed with sweet sound, - Beneath a garden's alley'd shades of yew, - With eager feet passed that singer sweet - Who Stella loved, whom bloody Zutphen slew - In the starred zenith of his knightly fame. - There too a dark-stoled figure I did meet: - Herbert, whose faith burned true - And steadfast as the altar candle's flame. - - Under the Wilton cedars, pondering - Upon the pains of Beauty and the wrong - That sealeth lovely lips, fated to sing, - Before they reach the cadence of their song, - I mused upon dead poets: mighty ones - Who sang and suffered: briefly heard were they - As Libyan nightingales weary of wing - Fleeing the temper of Saharan suns - To gladden our moon'd May, - And with the broken blossom vanishing. - - So to my eyes a sorrowful vision came - Of one whose name was writ in water: bright - His cheeks and eyes burned with a hectic flame; - And one, alas! I saw whose passionate might - Was spent upon a fevered fen in Greece; - One shade there was who, starving, choked with bread; - One, a drown'd corpse, through stormy water slips; - One in the numbing poppy-juice found peace; - And one, a youth, lay dead - With powdered arsenic upon his lips. - - O bitter were the sorrow that could dull - The sombre music of slow evening - Here, where the old world is so beautiful - That even lesser lips are moved to sing - How the wide heron sails into the light - Black as the cedarn shadows on the lawns - Or stricken woodlands patient in decay, - And river water murmurs through the night - Until autumnal dawns - Burn in the glass of Nadder's watery way. - - Nay, these were they by whom the world was lost, - To whom the world most richly gave: forlorn - Beauty they worshipp'd, counting not the cost - If of their torment beauty might be born; - And life, the splendid flower of their delight, - Loving too eagerly, they broke, and spill'd - The perfume that the folded petals close - Before its prime; yet their frail fingers white - From that bruised bloom distill'd - Uttermost attar of the living rose. - - Wherefore, O shining ones, I will not mourn - You, who have ravish'd beauty's secret ways - Beneath death's impotent shadow, suffering scorn, - Hatred, and desolation in her praise.... - Thus as I spoke their phantom faces smiled, - As brooding night with heavy downward wing - Fell upon Wilton's elegiac stone, - On the dark woodlands and the waters wild - And every living thing-- - Leaving me there amazed and alone. - - - - -PORTON WATER - - - Through Porton village, under the bridge, - A clear bourne floweth, with grasses trailing, - Wherein are shadows of white clouds sailing, - And elms that shelter under the ridge. - - Through Porton village we passed one day, - Marching the plain for mile on mile, - And crossed the bridge in single file, - Happily singing, and marched away - - Over the bridge where the shallow races, - Under a clear and frosty sky: - And the winterbourne, as we marched by, - Mirrored a thousand laughing faces. - - O, do we trouble you, Porton river, - We who laughing passed, and after - Found a resting-place for laughter? - Over here, where the poplars shiver - - By stagnant waters, we lie rotten. - On windless nights, in the lonely places, - There, where the winter water races, - O, Porton river, are we forgotten? - - Through Porton village, under the bridge, - The clear bourne floweth with grasses trailing, - Wherein are shadows of light cloud sailing, - And elms that shelter under the ridge. - - The pale moon she comes and looks; - Over the lonely spire she climbs; - For there she is lovelier many times - Than in the little broken brooks. - - - - -AN OLD HOUSE - - - No one lives in the old house; long ago - The voices of men and women left it lonely. - They shuttered the sightless windows in a row, - Imprisoning empty darkness--darkness only. - - Beyond the garden-closes, with sudden thunder - The lumbering troop-train passing clanks and jangles; - And I, a stranger, peer with careless wonder - Into the thickets of the garden tangles. - - Yet, as I pass, a transient vision dawns - Ghostly upon my pondering spirit's gloom, - Of grey lavender bushes and weedy lawns - And a solitary cherry-tree in bloom.... - - No one lives in the old house: year by year - The plaster crumbles on the lonely walls: - The apple falls in the lush grass; the pear, - Pulpy with ripeness, on the pathway falls. - - Yet this the garden was, where, on spring nights - Under the cherry-blossom, lovers plighted - Have wondered at the moony billows white, - Dreaming uncountable springs by love delighted; - - Whose ears have heard the blackbird's jolly whistle, - The shadowy cries of bats in twilight flitting - Zigzag beneath the eaves; or, on the thistle, - The twitter of autumn birds swinging and sitting; - - Whose eyes, on winter evenings, slow returning - Saw on the frosted paths pale lamplight fall - Streaming, or, on the hearth, red embers burning, - And shadows of children playing in the hall. - - Where have they gone, lovers of another day? - (No one lives in the old house; long ago - They shuttered the sightless windows....) Where are they, - Whose eyes delighted in this moony snow? - - I cannot tell ... and little enough they care, - Though April spray the cherry-boughs with light, - And autumn pile her harvest unaware - Under the walls that echoed their delight. - - I cannot tell ... yet I am as those lovers; - For me, who pass on my predestinate way, - The prodigal blossom billows and recovers - In ghostly gardens a hundred miles away. - - Yet, in my heart, a melancholy rapture - Tells me that eyes, which now an iron haste - Hurries to iron days, may here recapture - A vision of ancient loveliness gone to waste. - - - - -THE DHOWS - - - South of Guardafui with a dark tide flowing - We hailed two ships with tattered canvas bent to the monsoon, - Hung betwixt the outer sea and pale surf showing - Where dead cities of Libya lay bleaching in the moon. - - 'Oh whither be ye sailing with torn sails broken?' - 'We sail, we sail for Sheba, at Suliman's behest, - With carven silver phalli for the ebony maids of Ophir - From brown-skinned baharias of Arabia the Blest.' - - 'Oh whither be ye sailing, with your dark flag flying?' - 'We sail, with creaking cedar, towards the Northern Star. - The helmsman singeth wearily, and in our hold are lying - A hundred slaves in shackles from the marts of Zanzibar.' - - 'Oh whither be ye sailing...?' - 'Alas, we sail no longer: - Our hulls are wrack, our sails are dust, as any man might know. - And why should you torment us? ... Your iron keels are stronger - Than ghostly ships that sailed from Tyre a thousand years ago.' - - - - -THE GIFT - - - Marching on Tanga, marching the parch'd plain - Of wavering spear-grass past Pangani River, - England came to me--me who had always ta'en - But never given before--England, the giver, - In a vision of three poplar-trees that shiver - On still evenings of summer, after rain, - By Slapton Ley, where reed-beds start and quiver - When scarce a ripple moves the upland grain. - Then I thanked God that now I had suffered pain, - And, as the parch'd plain, thirst, and lain awake - Shivering all night through till cold daybreak: - In that I count these sufferings my gain - And her acknowledgment. Nay, more, would fain - Suffer as many more for her sweet sake. - - - - -FIVE DEGREES SOUTH - - - I love all waves and lovely water in motion, - That wavering iris in comb of the blown spray: - Iris of tumbled nautilus in the wake's commotion, - Their spread sails dipped in a marmoreal way - Unquarried, wherein are greeny bubbles blowing - Plumes of faint spray, cool in the deep - And lucent seas, that pause not in their flowing - To lap the southern starlight while they sleep. - These I have seen, these I have loved and known: - I have seen Jupiter, that great star, swinging - Like a ship's lantern, silent and alone - Within his sea of sky, and heard the singing - Of the south trade, that siren of the air, - Who shivers the taut shrouds, and singeth there. - - - - -104 deg. FAHRENHEIT - - - To-night I lay with fever in my veins - Consumed, tormented creature of fire and ice, - And, weaving the enhavock'd brain's device, - Dreamed that for evermore I must walk these plains - Where sunlight slayeth life, and where no rains - Abated the fierce air, nor slaked its fire: - So that death seemed the end of all desire, - To ease the distracted body of its pains. - And so I died, and from my eyes the glare - Faded, nor had I further need of breath; - But when I reached my hand to find you there - Beside me, I found nothing.... Lonely was death. - And with a cry I wakened, but to hear - Thin wings of fever singing in my ear. - - - - -FEVER-TREES - - - The beautiful Acacia - She sighs in desert lands: - Over the burning waterways - Of Africa she sways and sways, - Even where no air glideth - In cooling green she stands. - - The beautiful Acacia - She hath a yellow dress: - A slender trunk of lemon sheen - Gleameth through the tender green - (Where the thorn hideth) - Shielding her loveliness. - - The beautiful Acacia - Dwelleth in deadly lands: - Over the brooding waterways - Where death breedeth, she sways and sways, - And no man long abideth - In valleys where she stands. - - - - -THE RAIN-BIRD - - - High on the tufted baobab-tree - To-night a rain-bird sang to me - A simple song, of three notes only, - That made the wilderness more lonely; - - For in my brain it echoed nearly, - Old village church bells chiming clearly: - The sweet cracked bells, just out of tune, - Over the mowing grass in June-- - - Over the mowing grass, and meadows - Where the low sun casts long shadows. - And cuckoos call in the twilight - From elm to elm, in level flight. - - Now through the evening meadows move - Slow couples of young folk in love, - Who pause at every crooked stile - And kiss in the hawthorn's shade the while: - - Like pale moths the summer frocks - Hover between the beds of phlox, - And old men, feeling it is late, - Cease their gossip at the gate, - - Till deeper still the twilight grows, - And night blossometh, like a rose - Full of love and sweet perfume, - Whose heart most tender stars illume. - - Here the red sun sank like lead, - And the sky blackened overhead; - Only the locust chirped at me - From the shadowy baobab-tree. - - - - -MOTHS - - - When I lay wakeful yesternight - My fever's flame was a clear light, - A taper, flaring in the wind, - Whither, fluttering out of the dim - Night, many dreams glimmered by. - Like moths, out of the darkness, blind, - Hurling at that taper's flame, - From drinking honey of the night's flowers - Into my circled light they came: - So near I could see their soft colours, - Grey of the dove, most soothely grey; - But my heat singed their wings, and away - Darting into the dark again, - They escaped me.... - Others floated down - Like those vaned seeds that fall - In autumn from the sycamore's crown - When no leaf trembleth nor branch is stirred, - More silent in flight than any bird, - Or bat's wings flitting in darkness, soft - As lizards moving on a white wall - They came quietly from aloft - Down through my circle of light, and so - Into unlighted gloom below. - But one dream, strong-winged, daring - Flew beating at the heart of the flame - Till I feared it would have put out my light, - My thin taper, fitfully flaring, - And that I should be left alone in the night - With no more dreams for my delight. - - Can it be that from the dead - Even their dreams, their dreams are fled? - - - - -BETE HUMAINE - - - Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise, - I saw the world awake; and as the ray - Touched the tall grasses where they dream till day, - Lo, the bright air alive with dragonflies, - With brittle wings aquiver, and great eyes - Piloting crimson bodies, slender and gay. - I aimed at one, and struck it, and it lay - Broken and lifeless, with fast-fading dyes... - Then my soul sickened with a sudden pain - And horror, at my own careless cruelty, - That where all things are cruel I had slain - A creature whose sweet life it is to fly: - Like beasts that prey with bloody claw... - Nay, they - Must slay to live, but what excuse had I? - - - - -DOVES - - - On the edge of the wild-wood - Grey doves fluttering: - Grey doves of Astarte - To the woods at daybreak - Lazily uttering - Their murmured enchantment, - Old as man's childhood; - - While she, pale divinity - Of hidden evil, - Silvers the regions chaste - Of cold sky, and broodeth - Over forests primeval - And all that thorny waste's - Wooded infinity. - - 'Lovely goddess of groves,' - Cried I, 'what enchanted - Sinister recesses - Of these lone shades - May still be haunted - By thy demon caresses, - Thy unholy loves?' - - But clear day quelleth - Her dominion lonely, - And the soft ring-dove, - Murmuring, telleth - That dark sin only - From man's lust springeth, - In man's heart dwelleth. - - - - -SONG - - - I made a song in my love's likeness - From colours of my quietude, - From trees whose blossoms shine no less - Than butterflies in the wild-wood. - - I laid claim on all beauty - Under the sun to praise her wonder, - Till the noise of war swept over me, - Stopp'd my singing mouth with thunder. - - The angel of death hath swift wings, - I heard him strip the huddled trees - Overhead, as a hornet sings, - And whip the grass about my knees. - - Down we crouched in the parched dust, - Down beneath that deadly rain: - Dead still I lay, as lie one must - Who hath a bullet in his brain. - - Dead they left me: but my soul, waking, - Quietly laughed at their distress - Who guessed not that I still was making - That new song in my love's likeness. - - - - -BEFORE ACTION - - - Now the wind of the dawn sighs, - Now red embers have burned white, - Under the darkness faints and dies - The slow-beating heart of night. - - Into the darkness my eyes peer - Seeing only faces steel'd, - And level eyes that know not fear; - Yet each heart is a battlefield - - Where phantom armies foin and feint - And bloody victories are won - From the time when stars are faint - To the rising of the sun. - - With banners broken, and the roll - Of drums, at dawn the phantoms fly: - A man must commune with his soul - When he marches out to die. - - O day of wrath and of desire! - For each may know upon this day - Whether he be a thing of fire - Or fettered to the traitor clay. - - Such is the hazard that is thrown: - We know not how the dice may fall: - All the secrets shall be known - Or else we shall not know at all. - - - - -ON A SUBALTERN KILLED IN ACTION - - - Into that dry and most desolate place - With heavy gait they dragged the stretcher in - And laid him on the bloody ground: the din - Of Maxim fire ceased not. I raised his head, - And looked into his face, - And saw that he was dead. - Saw beneath matted curls the broken skin - That let the bullet in; - And saw the limp, lithe limbs, the smiling mouth... - (Ah, may we smile at death - As bravely....) the curv'd lips that no more drouth - Should blacken, and no sweetly stirring breath - Mildly displace. - So I covered the calm face - And stripped the shirt from his firm breast, and there, - A zinc identity disc, a bracelet of elephant hair - I found.... Ah, God, how deep it stings - This unendurable pity of small things! - - But more than this I saw, - That dead stranger welcoming, more than the raw - And brutal havoc of war. - England I saw, the mother from whose side - He came hither and died, she at whose hems he had play'd, - In whose quiet womb his body and soul were made. - That pale, estranged flesh that we bowed over - Had breathed the scent in summer of white clover; - Dreamed her cool fading nights, her twilights long, - And days as careless as a blackbird's song - Heard in the hush of eve, when midges' wings - Make a thin music, and the night-jar spins. - (For it is summer, I thought, in England now....) - And once those forward gazing eyes had seen - Her lovely living green: that blackened brow - Cool airs, from those blue hills moving, had fann'd-- - Breath of that holy land - Whither my soul aspireth without despair: - In the broken brain had many a lovely word - Awakened magical echoes of things heard, - Telling of love and laughter and low voices, - And tales in which the English heart rejoices - In vanishing visions of childhood and its glories: - Old-fashioned nursery rhymes and fairy stories: - Words that only an English tongue could tell. - - And the firing died away; and the night fell - On our battle. Only in the sullen sky - A prairie fire, with huge fantastic flame - Leapt, lighting dark clouds charged with thunder. - And my heart was sick with shame - That there, in death, he should lie, - Crying: 'Oh, why am I alive, I wonder?' - - In a dream I saw war riding the land: - Stark rode she, with bowed eyes, against the glare - Of sack'd cities smouldering in the dark, - A tired horse, lean, with outreaching head, - And hid her face of dread.... - Yet, in my passion would I look on her, - Crying, O hark, - Thou pale one, whom now men say bearest the scythe - Of God, that iron scythe forged by his thunder - For reaping of nations overripened, fashioned - Upon the clanging anvil whose sparks, flying - In a starry night, dying, fall hereunder.... - But she, she heeded not my cry impassioned - Nor turned her face of dread, - Urging the tired horse, with outreaching head, - O thou, cried I, who choosest for thy going - These bloomy meadows of youth, these flowery ways - Whereby no influence strays - Ruder than a cold wind blowing, - Or beating needles of rain, - Why must thou ride again - Ruthless among the pastures yet unripened, - Crushing their beauty in thine iron track - Downtrodden, ravish'd in thy following flame, - Parched and black? - But she, she stayed not in her weary haste - Nor turned her face; but fled: - And where she passed the lands lay waste.... - - And now I cannot tell whither she rideth: - But tired, tired rides she. - Yet know I well why her dread face she hideth: - She is pale and faint to death. Yea, her day faileth, - Nor all her blood, nor all her frenzy burning, - Nor all her hate availeth: - For she passeth out of sight - Into that night - From which none, none returneth - To waste the meadows of youth, - Nor vex thine eyelids, Routhe, - O sorrowful sister, soother of our sorrow. - And a hope within me springs - That fair will be the morrow, - And that charred plain, - Those flowery meadows, shall rejoice at last - In a sweet, clean - Freshness, as when the green - Grass springeth, where the prairie fire hath passed. - - - - -AFTER ACTION - - - All through that day of battle the broken sound - Of shattering Maxim fire made mad the wood; - So that the low trees shuddered where they stood, - And echoes bellowed in the bush around: - But when, at last the light of day was drowned, - That madness ceased.... Ah, God, but it was good! - There, in the reek of iodine and blood, - I flung me down upon the thorny ground. - So quiet was it, I might well have been lying - In a room I love, where the ivy cluster shakes - Its dew upon the lattice panes at even: - Where rusty ivory scatters from the dying - Jessamine blossom, and the musk-rose breaks - Her dusky bloom beneath a summer heaven. - - - - -SONNET - - - Not only for remembered loveliness, - England, my mother, my own, we hold thee rare - Who toil, and fight, and sicken beneath the glare - Of brazen skies that smile on our duress, - Making us crave thy cloudy state no less - Than the sweet clarity of thy rain-wash'd air, - Meadows in moonlight cool, and every fair - Slow-fading flower of thy summer dress: - Not for thy flowers, but for the unfading crown - Of sacrifice our happy brothers wove thee: - The joyous ones who laid thy beauty down - Nor stayed to see it shamed. For these we love thee, - For this (O love, O dread!) we hold thee more - Divinely fair to-day than heretofore. - - - - -A FAREWELL TO AFRICA - -,, vspace:: 2 - - Now once again, upon the pole-star's bearing, - We plough these furrowed fields where no blade springeth; - Again the busy trade in the halyards singeth - Sun-whitened spindrift from the blown wave shearing; - The uncomplaining sea suffers our faring; - In a brazen glitter our little wake is lost, - And the starry south rolls over until no ghost - Remaineth of us and all our pitiful daring; - For the sea beareth no trace of man's endeavour, - His might enarmoured, his prosperous argosies, - Soundless, within her unsounded caves, forever - She broodeth, knowing neither war nor peace, - And our grey cruisers holds in mind no more - Than the cedarn fleets that Sheba's treasure bore. - - - - -SONG - - - What is the worth of war - In a world that turneth, turneth - About a tired star - Whose flaming centre burneth - No longer than the space - Of the spent atom's race: - Where conquered lands, soon, soon - Lie waste as the pale moon? - - What is the worth of art - In a world that fast forgetteth - Those who have wrung its heart - With beauty that love begetteth, - Whose faint flames vanish quite - In that star-powdered night - Where even the mighty ones - Shine only as far suns? - - And what is beauty worth, - Sweet beauty, that persuadeth - Of her immortal birth, - Then, as a flower, fadeth: - Or love, whose tender years - End with the mourner's tears, - Die, when the mourner's breath - Is quiet, at last, in death? - - Beauty and love are one, - Even when fierce war clashes: - Even when our fiery sun - Hath burnt itself to ashes, - And the dead planets race - Unlighted through blind space, - Beauty will still shine there: - Wherefore, I worship her. - - - - -THE HAWTHORN SPRAY - - - I saw a thrush light on a hawthorn spray, - One moment only, spilling creamy blossom, - While the bough bent beneath her speckled bosom, - Bent, and recovered, and she fluttered away. - - The branch was still; but, in my heart, a pain - Than the thorn'd spray more cruel, stabbed me, only - Remembering days in a far land and lonely - When I had never hoped for summer again. - - - - -THE PAVEMENT - - - In bitter London's heart of stone, - Under the lamplight's shielded glare. - I saw a soldier's body thrown - Unto the drabs that traffic there - - Pacing the pavements with slow feet: - Those old pavements whose blown dust - Throttles the hot air of the street, - And the darkness smells of lust. - - The chaste moon, with equal glance, - Looked down on the mad world, astare - At those who conquered in sad France - And those who perished in Leicester Square. - - And in her light his lips were pale: - Lips that love had moulded well: - Out of the jaws of Passchendaele - They had sent him to this nether hell. - - I had no stone of scorn to fling, - For I know not how the wrong began-- - But I had seen a hateful thing - Masked in the dignity of man: - - And hate and sorrow and hopeless anger - Swept my heart, as the winds that sweep - Angrily through the leafless hanger - When winter rises from the deep.... - - * * * * * - - I would that war were what men dream: - A crackling fire, a cleansing flame, - That it might leap the space between - And lap up London and its shame. - - - - -To LYDIA LOPOKOVA - - -HER GARLAND - - - O thou who comest to our wintry shade - Gay and light-footed as the virgin Spring, - Before whose shining feet the cherries fling - Their moony tribute, when the sloe is sprayed - With light, and all things musical are made: - O thou who art Spring's daughter, who can bring - Blossom, or song of bird, or anything - To match the youth in which you stand arrayed? - Not that rich garland Meleager twined - In his sun-guarded glade above the blue - That flashes from the burning Tyrian seas: - No, you are cooler, sweeter than the wind - That wakes our woodlands; so I bring to you - These wind-blown blossoms of anemones. - - - -HER VARIETY - - - Soft as a pale moth flitting in moonshine - I saw thee flutter to the shadowy call - That beckons from the strings of Carneval, - O frail and fragrant image of Columbine: - So, when the spectre of the rose was thine, - A flower wert thou, and last I saw thee fall - In Cleopatra's stormy bacchanal - Flown with the red insurgence of the vine. - O moth, O flower, O maenad, which art thou? - Shadowy, beautiful, or leaping wild - As stormlight over savage Tartar skies? - Such were my ancient questionings; but now - I know that you are nothing but a child - With a red flower's mouth and hazel eyes. - - - -HER SWIFTNESS - - - You are too swift for poetry, too fleet - For any mused numbers to ensnare: - Swifter than music dying on the air - Or bloom upon rose-petals, fades the sweet - Vanishing magic of your flying feet, - Your poised finger, and your shining hair: - Words cannot tell how wonderful you were, - Or how one gesture made a joy complete. - And since you know my pen may never capture - The transient swift loveliness of you, - Come, let us salve our sense of the world's loss - Remembering, with a melancholy rapture, - How many dancing-girls ... and poets too... - Dream in the dust of Hecatompylos. - - - - -GHOSTLY LOVES - - - 'Oh why,' my darling prayeth me, 'must you sing - For ever of ghostly loves, phantasmal passion? - Seeing that you never loved me after that fashion - And the love I gave was not a phantom thing, - But delight of eager lips and strong arms folding - The beauty of yielding arms and of smooth shoulder, - All fluent grace of which you were the moulder: - And I.... Oh, I was happy for your holding.' - 'Ah, do you not know, my dearest, have you not seen - The shadow that broodeth over things that perish: - How age may mock sweet moments that have been - And death defile the beauty that we cherish? - Wherefore, sweet spirit, I thank thee for thy giving: - 'Tis my spirit that embraceth thee dead or living.' - - - - -FEBRUARY - - - The robin on my lawn, - He was the first to tell - How, in the frozen dawn, - This miracle befell, - Waking the meadows white - With hoar, the iron road - Agleam with splintered light, - And ice where water flowed: - Till, when the low sun drank - Those milky mists that cloak - Hanger and hollied bank, - The winter world awoke - To hear the feeble bleat - Of lambs on downland farms: - A blackbird whistled sweet; - Old beeches moved their arms - Into a mellow haze - Aerial, newly-born: - And I, alone, agaze, - Stood waiting for the thorn - To break in blossom white - Or burst in a green flame... - So, in a single night, - Fair February came, - Bidding my lips to sing - Or whisper their surprise, - With all the joy of spring - And morning in her eyes. - - - - -SONG OF THE DARK AGES - - - We digged our trenches on the down - Beside old barrows, and the wet - White chalk we shovelled from below; - It lay like drifts of thawing snow - On parados and parapet: - - Until a pick neither struck flint - Nor split the yielding chalky soil, - But only calcined human bone: - Poor relic of that Age of Stone - Whose ossuary was our spoil. - - Home we marched singing in the rain, - And all the while, beneath our song, - I mused how many springs should wane - And still our trenches scar the plain: - The monument of an old wrong. - - But then, I thought, the fair green sod - Will wholly cover that white stain, - And soften, as it clothes the face - Of those old barrows, every trace - Of violence to the patient plain. - - And careless people, passing by, - Will speak of both in casual tone: - Saying: 'You see the toil they made: - The age of iron, pick, and spade, - Here jostles with the Age of Stone.' - - Yet either from that happier race - Will merit but a passing glance; - And they will leave us both alone: - Poor savages who wrought in stone-- - Poor savages who fought in France. - - - - -WINTER SUNSET - - - Athwart the blackening bars of pines benighted, - The sun, descending to the zones of denser - Cloud that o'erhung the long horizon, lighted - Upon the crown of earth a flaming censer - From which white clouds of incense, overflowing, - Filled the chill clarity from whence the swallows - Had lately fled with wreathed vapours, showing - Like a fine bloom over the lonely fallows: - Where, with the pungent breath of mist was blended - A faint aroma of pine-needles sodden - By autumn rains, and fainter still, ascended - Beneath high woods the scent of leaves downtrodden. - It was a moment when the earth, that sickened - For Spring, as lover when the beloved lingers, - Lay breathless, while the distant goddess quickened - Some southern hill-side with her glowing fingers: - And so, it seemed, the drowsy lands were shaken, - Stirred in their sleep, and sighed, as though the pain - Of a strange dream had bidden them awaken - To frozen days and bitter nights again. - - - - -SONG - - - Why have you stolen my delight - In all the golden shows of Spring - When every cherry-tree is white - And in the limes the thrushes sing, - - O fickler than the April day, - O brighter than the golden broom, - O blyther than the thrushes' lay, - O whiter than the cherry-bloom, - - O sweeter than all things that blow ... - Why have you only left for me - The broom, the cherry's crown of snow, - And thrushes in the linden-tree? - - - - -ENGLAND--APRIL, 1918 - - - Last night the North flew at the throat of Spring - With spite to tear her greening banners down, - Tossing the elm-tree's tender tassels brown, - The virgin blossom of sloe burdening - With colder snow; beneath his frosty sting - Patient, the newly-wakened woods were bowed - By drowned fields where stormy waters flowed: - Yet, on the thorn, I heard a blackbird sing.... - 'Too late, too late,' he sang, 'this wintry spite; - For molten snow will feed the springing grass: - The tide of life, it floweth with the year.' - O England, England, thou that standest upright - Against the tide of death, the bad days pass: - Know, by this miracle, that summer is near. - - - - -SLENDER THEMES - - - When, by a happier race, these leaves are turned, - They'll wonder that such quiet themes engaged - A soldier's mind when noisy wars were waged, - And half the world in one red bonfire burned. - 'When that fierce age,' they'll say, 'went up in flame - He lived ... or died, seeing those bright deeds done - Whereby our sweet and settled peace was won, - Yet offereth slender dreams, not deeds, to Fame.' - Then say: 'Out of the heart the mouth speaketh, - And mine was as the hearts of other men - Whom those dark days impassioned; yet it seeketh - To paint the sombre woes that held us then, - No more than the cloud-rending levin's light - Seeks to illumine the sad skies of night.' - - - - -INVOCATION - - - Whither, O, my sweet mistress, must I follow thee? - For when I hear thy distant footfall nearing, - And wait on thy appearing, - Lo! my lips are silent: no words come to me. - - Once I waylaid thee in green forest covers, - Hoping that spring might free my lips with gentle fingers; - Alas! her presence lingers - No longer than on the plain the shadow of brown kestrel hovers. - - Through windless ways of the night my spirit followed after;-- - Cold and remote were they, and there, possessed - By a strange unworldly rest, - Awaiting thy still voice heard only starry laughter. - - The pillared halls of sleep echoed my ghostly tread. - Yet when their secret chambers I essayed - My spirit sank, dismayed, - Waking in fear to find the new-born vision fled. - - Once indeed--but then my spirit bloomed in leafy rapture-- - I loved; and once I looked death in the eyes: - So, suddenly made wise, - Spoke of such beauty as I may never recapture.... - - Whither, O, divine mistress, must I then follow thee? - Is it only in love ... say, is it only in death - That the spirit blossometh, - And words that may match my vision shall come to me? - - - - -THAMAR - - -(_To Thamar Karsavina_) - -Once in the sombre light of the throng'd courts of night, -In a dream-haunted land only inhabited -By the unhappy dead, came one who, anxious eyed, -Clung to my idle hand with clenched fingers weak -And gazed into my eyes as he had wrongs to speak. -Silent he stood and wan, more pallid than the leaves -Of an aspen blown under a wind that grieves. -Then I: 'O haggard one, say from what ghostly zone -Of thwarted destinies or torment hast thou come? -Tell me thy race and name!' And he, with veiled face: -'I have neither name nor race, but I have travelled far, -A timeless avatar of never-ending dooms, -Out of those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star -In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar... -Once in a lonely dawn my eager spirit fared -By ways that no men dared unto a desert land, -Where, on a sullen strand, a mouldering city, vast -As towered Babylon, stood in the dreamy sand-- -Older a million years: Babel was builded on -That broken city's tears; dust of her crumbled past -Rose from the rapid wheels of Babel's charioteers -In whorled clouds above those shining thoroughfares -Where Babel's millions tread on her unheeding dead. -Forth from an eastern gate where the lips of Asia wait -Parch'd with an ancient thirst that no aeons can abate, -Passed I, predestinate, to a thorn'd desert's drought, -Where the rivers of the south, flowing in a cloudy spate, -Spend at last their splendid strength in a sea of molten glass -Seething with the brazen might of a white sun dipped at length -Like a baked stone, burning hot, plunged in a hissing pot. -Out of that solemn portal over the tawny waste, -Without stay, without haste, nor the joy of any mortal -Glance of eye or clasp of hand, desolate, in a burning land, -Lonely days and nights I travelled and the changing seasons squandered -Friendless, endlessly, I wandered nor my woven fate unravelled; -Drawn to a hidden goal, sore, forlorn with waiting, -Seeking I knew not what, yet unhesitating -Struggled my hapless soul... - There, in a thousand springs, -Slow, beneath frozen snow, where the blind earth lay cringing, -Have I seen the steppe unfold uncounted blossomings, -Where salty pools shone fair in a quivering blue air -That shivered every fringing reed-bed with cool delight, -And fanned the mazy flight of slow-wing'd egrets white -Beating and wheeling bright against the sun astare; -But I could not hear their wings for they were ghostly things -Sent by the powers of night to mock my sufferings -And rain upon the bitter waterpools their drops aglitter. -Yet, when these lakes accursed tortured my aching thirst, -The green reeds fell to dust, the cool pools to a crust -Of frozen salt crystallised to taunt my broken lips, -To cheat my staring eyes, as a vision of great ships -With moving towers of sail, poops throng'd with grinning crowds -And a wind in their shrouds, bears down upon the pale -Wasted castaway afloat with the salt in his throat -And a feeble wild desire to be quenched of his fire -In the green gloom beneath. - So, again and again, -Hath a phantom city thrust to the visionary vault -Of inviolate cobalt, dome and dreaming minaret -Mosque and gleaming water-tower hazy in a fountain's jet -Or a market's rising dust; and my lips have cried aloud -To see them tremble there, though I knew within my heart -They were chiselled out of cloud or carven of thin air; -And my fingers clenched my hand, for I wondered if this land -Of my stony pilgrimage were a glimmering mirage, -And I myself no more than a phantom of the sand. - 'But beyond these fading slender cities, many leagues away, -Strange brooding mountains lay heaped, crowding range on range -In a changing cloudy splendour; and beyond, in lakes of light, -As eastward still I staggered, there swam into my sight, -More vast and hoar and haggard, shoulders of ice and snow -Bounding the heavens low of burnished brass, whereunder -The hot plains of Cathay perpetually slumber: -Where tawny millions breed in cities without number, -Whither, a hill-born thunder, rolling on Tartary -With torrents and barb'd lightning, swelleth the yellow river -To a tumult of whitening foam and confused might -That drowns in a single night many a mud-made city; -And cities of boats, and frail cities of lath and reed, -Are whirled away without pity or set afloat in a pale, -Swirling, shallow sea ... and their names seem lost for ever -Till a stranger nomad race drive their herds to the sad place -Where old sorrows lie forgotten, and raise upon the rotten -Level waste another brood to await another flood. - 'But I never might attain to this melancholy plain -For the mountains rose between; stark in my path they lay -Between me and Cathay, through moving mist half-seen. -And I knew that they were real, for their drooping folds of cloud -Enwrapped me in a shroud, and the air that fell at night -From their frozen summits white slid like an ice-blue steel -Into my living breast and stilled the heart within -As the chill of an old sin that robs a man of rest, -Killing all delight in the silence of the night -And brooding black above till the heart dare not move -But lieth cold and numb ... and the dawn will not come. - 'Yet to me a dawn came, new-kindled in cold flame, -Flinging the imminence of those inviolate snows -On the forest lawns below in a shadow more immense -Than their eternal vastness; and a new hope beyond reason, -Flamed in my heart's dark season, dazzled my pallid eyes, -Till, when the hot sun soared above the uttermost height, -A draught of keen delight into my body was poured, -For all that frozen fastness lay flowered with the spring: -Her starry blossoms broke beneath my bruised feet, -And their beauty was so sweet to me I kissed them where they lay; -Yea, I bent my weary hips and kissed them with dry lips, -Tenderly, only dreading lest their petals delicate -Should be broken by my treading, for I lived, I lived again, -And my heart would have been broken by a living creature's pain, -So I kissed them for a token of my joy in their new birth, -And I kissed the gentle earth. Slowly the shadows crept -To the bases of the crags, and I slept.... - 'Once, in another life, had I remembered sleep, -When tired children creep on to their mother's knees, -And there a dreamless peace more quietly descendeth -Than gentle evening endeth or ring-doves fold their wings, -Before the nightjar spins or the nightingale begins; -When the brooding hedgerow trees where they nest lie awake -And breathe so soft they shake not a single shuddering leaf -Lest the silence should break. - 'Other sleep have I known, -Deeper, beyond belief, when straining limbs relax -After hot human toil in yellow harvest fields -Where the panting earth yields a smell of baked soil, -And the dust of dry stubbles blows over the whitening -Shocks of lank grain and bundles of flax, -And men fling themselves down forgetting their troubles, -Unheedful of the song that the landrail weaves along -Misty woodlands, or lightning that the pale sky laves -Like phosphorescent waves washing summer seas: -And, more beautiful than these, that sleep of dazed wonder -When love has torn asunder the veils of the sky -And raptured lovers lie faint in each other's arms -Beneath a heaven strewn with myriad starry swarms, -Where planets float like lonely gold-flowered nenuphars -In pools of the sky; yet, when they wake, they turn -From those burning galaxies seeking heaven only -In each other's eyes, and sigh, and sleep again; -For while they sleep they seem to forget the world's pain, -And when they wake, they dream.... - 'But other sleep was mine -As I had drunk of wine with bitter hemlock steep'd, -Or soused with the heaped milky poppyheads -A drowsy Tartar treads where slow waters sweep -Over red river beds, and the air is heavy with sleep. -So, when I woke at last, the labouring earth had rolled -Eastward under the vast dominion of night, -Funereal, forlorn as that unlighted chamber -Wherein she first was born, bereft of all starlight, -Pale silver of the moon, or the low sun's amber. - 'Then to my queen I prayed, grave Ashtoreth, whose shade -Hallows the dim abyss of Heliopolis, -Where many an olive maid clashed kissing Syrian cymbals, -And silver-sounding timbrels shivered through the vale. -O lovely, and O white, under the holy night -Is their gleaming wonder, and their brows are pale -As the new risen moon, dancing till they swoon -In far forests under desolate Lebanon, -While the flame of Moloch's pyre reddens the sea-born cloud -That overshadows Tyre; so, when I cried aloud, -Behold, a torch of fire leapt on the mountain-side! - 'O bright, O beautiful! for never kindlier light -Fell on the darkened sight of mortal eyes and dull -Since that devoted one, whom gloomy Caucasus -In icy silence lonely bound to his cruel shoulders, -Brought to benighted men in a hollow fennel-stem -Sparks of the torrid vapour that burned behind the bars -Of evening, broke dawn's rose, or smouldered in the stars, -Or lit the glowworm's taper, or wavered over the fen, -Or tipped the javelin of the far-ravening levin, -Lash of the Lord of Heaven and bitter scourge of sin. -O beautiful, O bright! my tired sinews strained -To this torch that flared and waned as a watery planet gloweth -And waneth in the night when a calm sea floweth -Under a misty sky spread with the tattered veils -Of rapid cloud driven over the deeps of heaven -By winds that range too high to sweep the languid sails. -On through the frozen night, like a blind moth flying -With battered wing and bruised bloom into a light, -I dragged my ragged limbs, cared not if I were dying, -Knew not if I were dead, where cavernous crevasses, -And stony desperate passes snared, waylaid my tread: -In the roar of broken boulders split from rocky shoulders, -In the thunder of snow sliding, or under the appalling -Rending of glacier ice or hoarse cataracts falling: -And I knew not what could save me but the unholy guiding -That some demon gave me. Thrice I fell, and thrice -In torrents of blue ice-water slipp'd and was toss'd -Like a dead leaf, or a ghost -Harried by thin bufferings of wind -Downward to Tartarus at daybreak, -Downward to the regions of the lost.... -But the rushing waters ceased, and the bitter wind fell: -How I cannot tell, unless that I had come -To the hollow heart of the storm where the wind is dumb; -And there my gelid blood thawed, glowed, and grew warm, -While a black-hooded form caught at my arm, and stayed -And held me as I swayed, until, at last, I saw -In a strange unworldly awe, at the gate of light I stood: -And I entered, alone.... - 'Behold a cavern of stone carven, and in the midst -A brazier that hissed with tongued flames, leaping -Over whitened embers of gummy frankincense, -Into a fume of dense and fragrant vapour, creeping -Over the roof to spread a milky coverlet -Softer than the woof of webby spider's net. -But never spider yet spun a more delicate wonder -Than that which hung thereunder, drooping fold on fold, -Silks that glowed with fire of tawny Oxus gold, -Richer than ever flowed from the eager fancy of man -In his vain desire for beauty that endures: -And on the floor were spread by many a heaped daiwan -Carpets of Kurdistan, cured skins, and water-ewers -Encrusted with such gems as emperors of Hind -(Swart conquerors, long dead) sought for their diadems. - -No other light was there but one torch, flaring -Against a square of sky possess'd by the wind, -And never another sound but the tongued flames creeping. - 'At last, my eyes staring into the clouded gloom, -Saw that the caverned room with shadowy forms was strewn -In heavy sleep or swoon fallen, who did not move -But lay as mortals lie in the sweet release of love. -And stark between them stood huge eunuchs of ebony, -Mute, motionless, as they had been carven of black wood. -But these I scarcely saw, for, through the flame was seen -Another, a queen, with heavy closed eyes -White against the skies of that empurpled night -In her loveliness she lay, and leaned upon her hand: -And my blood leapt at the sight, so that I could not stand -But fell upon my knees, pleading, and cried aloud -For her white loveliness as Ixion for his cloud: -And my cry the silence broke, and the sleepers awoke -From their slumber, stirred, and rose every one,--save those -Mute eunuchs of ebony, those frowning caryatides. -Slowly she looked at me, and when I cried again -In yearning and in pain, she beckoned with her hand. -Then from my knees rose I, and greatly daring, -Through the hazy air, past the brazier flaring -And the hissing flame, crept, until I came -Unto the carven seat, and kissed her white feet; -And she smiled, but spake not. -When she smiled the sleepers wavered as the grass -Of a cornfield wavers when the ears are swept -By the breath of brown reapers singing as they pass, -Or grass of woody glades when a wind that has slept -Wakens, and invades their moonlit solitude, -When the hazels shiver and the birch is blown -To a billow of silver, but oaks in the wood -Stand firm nor quiver, stand firm as stone: -So, amid the sleepers, the black eunuchs stood. -When the sleepers stirred faintly in the heat -Of that painted room a silken sound I heard, -And a thin music, sweet as the brown nightingale -Sings in the jealous shade of a lonely spinney, -Stranger far than any music mortal made -Fell softer than the dew falleth when stars are pale. -Sweet it was, and clear as light, or as the tears -That sad Narcissus wears in the spring of the year -On barren mountain ranges where rain falls cool -And every lonely pool is sprayed with broken light: -So cool, so beautiful, and so divinely strange -I doubted if it came from any marshy reed -Or hollow fluting stem pluck'd by the hands of men, -Unless it were indeed that airy fugitive -Syrinx, who cried and ran before the laughing eyes -Of goat-footed Pan, and must for ever live -A shadowy green reed by an Arcadian river-- -But never music made of Ladon's reedy daughter -Or singing river-water more sweet than that which stole, -Slow as amber honey wells from the honeycomb, -Into my weary soul with solace and strange peace. -So, trembling as I lay in a dream more desolate -Than is the darkened day of the mid-winter north, -I heard the voice of one who sang in a strange tongue, -And I know not what he sang save that he sang of love, -The while they led me forth unheeding, till we came -Unto a chamber lit with one slow-burning flame -That yellow horn bedims, and laid me down, and there -They soothed my bruised limbs, and combed my tangled hair, -And salved my limbs with rarely-mingled unguents pressed -By hands of holy ones who dream beneath the suns -Of Araby the Blest, and so, when they had bathed -My burning eyes with milk of dreamy anodyne -And cool'd my throat with wine, -In robings of cool silk my broken body they swathed, -Sandals of gold they placed upon my feet, and round -My sad sun-blistered brows a silver fillet bound-- -Decking me with the pride of a bridegroom that goes -To the joy of his bride and is lovely in her eyes-- -And led me to her side. Then, as a conquering prince, -I, who long since had been battered and tost -Like a dead leaf or ghost buffeted by wild storms, -Came to her white arms, conquering, and was lost, -Yet dared not gaze upon the beauty that I dreamed. -So, in my trance, it seemed that a shadowy soft dance -Coiled slowly and unwound, swayed, beckoned, and recovered -As hooded cobra bound by hollow spells of sound -Unto the piper sways; so silently they hovered -I only heard the beat of their naked feet, -And then, another sound.... -A dull throb thrumming, a noise of faint drumming, -Threatening, coming nearer, piercing deeper -Than a dream lost in the heart of a sleeper -Into those deeps where the dark fire gloweth, -The secret flame that every man knoweth, -Embers that smoulder, fires that none can fan, -Terrible, older than the mind of man.... -Before he crawled from his swamp and spurned -The life of the beast that dark fire burned -In the hidden deeps where no dream can come: -Only the throbbing of a drum -Can wake it from its smouldering-- -Sightless, soundless, senseless, dumb-- -Dumb as those blind seeds that lie -Drown'd in mud, and shuddering, -I knew that I was man no more, -But a throbbing core of flesh, that knew -Nor beauty, nor truth, nor anything -But the black sky and the slimy earth: -Roots of trees, and fear, and pain, -The blank of death, the pangs of birth, -An inhuman thing possess'd -By the throbbing of a drum: -And my lips were strange and numb, -But they kissed her white breast.... -Then, being drunk with pride and splendour of love, I cried: -'"O spring of all delight, O mooned mystery, -O living marvel, white as the dead queen of night, -O flower, and O flame ... tell me at least thy name -That, from this desolate height, I may proclaim its wonder -To the lost lands hereunder before thy beauty dies -As fades the fire of dawn upon a peak of snow!"' -Then: "Look," she sighed, "into my eyes, and thou shalt know." -So, with her fingers frail, she pressed my brows, and so, -Slowly, at last, she raised my drooping eyelids pale, -And in her eyes I gazed. - 'Then fear, than love more blind, -Caught at my heart and fast in chains of horror bound-- -As one who in profound and midnight forest ways -Sees in the dark the burning eyes of a tiger barred -Or stealthy footed pard blaze in a solemn hate -And lust of human blood, yet cannot cry, nor turning -Flee from the huddled wood, but stands and sees his fate, -Or one who in a black night, groping for his track, -Clings to the dizzy verge of a cragged precipice, -Shrinks from the dim abyss, yet dare not venture back, -And no sound hears but the hiss of empty air -Swirling past his ears.... So, in a hideous -Abandonment of hope, I waited for her kiss. -Then the restless beat of the muttering drum -Rose to a frenzied heat; the naked dancers leapt -Insolent through the flame, laughing as they came -With parted lips; their cries deadened my ears, my eyes -Throbbed with the pattering of their rapid feet, -And the whirling dust of their dancing swept -Into my throat unslaked, dry-parched with love's drought, -Until my mouth was pressed upon her burning mouth -In a kiss most terrible.... Oh, was it pride, or shame -Unending, without name, or ecstasy, or pain -Or desperate desire? Alas! I cannot tell, -Save that it pierced my trembling soul and body with fire. -For, while her soft lips clove to mine in love, she drove -A flaming blade of steel into my breast, and I, -Rent with a bitter cry, slid from her side and fell -Clutching in dumb despair the dark unbraided hair -My passion had despoiled; while she, like serpent coiled, -Poised for another stroke, terribly, slowly, smiled, -Saying: "O stranger, red, red are my lips, and sweet -Unto those lips so red are the kisses of the dead: -Far hast thou wandered, far, for the kisses of Thamar." -Then a deep silence fell on the frenzy and the laughter; -The leaping dancers crept to the shadows where they had slept, -And the mute eunuchs stood forth, and hugely bent -Above my body, spent in its pool of blood, -And hove me with black arms, while the queen followed after -With stealthy steps, and eyes that burned into the night -Of my dying brain, till, with her hand, she bade -Them falter, and they stayed, while, eagerly, she propped -My listless head that dropped downward from my shoulders, -And slowly raised it up, raised it like a cup -Unto her lips again, -Then shuddered, trembled, shrunk, as though her mouth had drunk -A potion where the fell fire of poison smoulders. -And a darkness came, and I could see no more, -But in my ears the roar of lonely torrents swelled -And stilled my breath for ever, as though a wave appalling -Had broken in my brain, and deep to deep were calling: -And I felt my body falling down and down and down -Into a blank of death, where dumb waters roll -Endlessly, only knowing, that her dagger had stabbed my breast, -But her kiss had killed my soul. -And now I know no rest until again I stand -Where that lost city's towers rise from the dreamy sand, -Until I reach the gate where the lips of Asia wait, -Till I cross the desert's drought, and the rivers of the south, -And shiver through the night under those summits white -That soar above Cathay; until I see the light -Flame from those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star -In stormy darkness, looms the castle of Thamar.' - - - - -ENVOI - - - Now that the hour has come, and under the lonely - Darkness I stumble at the doors of death, - It is not hope, nor faith - That here my spirit sustaineth, but love only. - - In visions, in love: only there have I clutched at divinity: - But the vision fadeth; yet love fades not: and for this - I would have you know that your kiss - Was more to me than all my hopes of infinity. - - Therein you made me divine ... you, who were moon and sun for - me, - You, for whose beauty I would have forsaken the splendour of - the stars - And my shadowy avatars - Renounced: for there is nothing in the world you have not done - for me. - - So that when at length all sentient skill hath forsaken me, - And the bright world beats vainly on my consciousness, - Your beauty shineth no less: - And even if I were dead I think your shadow would awaken me. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40344 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. 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