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diff --git a/old/50240-0.txt b/old/50240-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4494ba2..0000000 --- a/old/50240-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1290 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Sunken Garden and other poems, by Walter De la Mare - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Sunken Garden and other poems - -Author: Walter De la Mare - -Release Date: October 18, 2015 [EBook #50240] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUNKEN GARDEN AND OTHER POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - THE SUNKEN GARDEN - - This is the second book issued by the Beaumont Press 20 copies have been - printed on Japanese vellum signed by the author and numbered 1 to 20 and - 250 copies on hand-made paper numbered 21 to 270. This is No. 200. - - - - - THE SUNKEN - GARDEN - - AND OTHER POEMS BY - WALTER DE LA MARE - - - - - CONTENTS - - - Page - -THE LITTLE SALAMANDER -When I go free, 9 - -THE SUNKEN GARDEN -Speak not--whisper not; 10 - -THE RIDDLERS -‘Thou Solitary!’ the Blackbird cried, 11 - -MRS. GRUNDY -‘Step very softly, sweet Quiet-foot, 13 - -THE DARK HOUSE -See this house, how dark it is 15 - -MISTRESS FELL -‘Whom seek you here, sweet Mistress Fell?’ 16 - -THE STRANGER -In the woods as I did walk, 18 - -THE FLIGHT -How do the days press on, and lay 19 - -THE REMONSTRANCE -I was at peace until you came 20 - -THE EXILE -I am that Adam who, with Snake for guest, 21 - -EYES -O Strange Devices that alone divide 22 - -THE TRYST -Why in my heart, O grief, 23 - -THE OLD MEN -Old and alone, sit we, 25 - -THE FOOL’S SONG -Never, no, never, listen too long, 26 - -THE DREAMER -O Thou who giving helm and sword, 27 - -MOTLEY -Come, Death, I’d have a word with thee; 28 - -TO E. T.: 1917. -You sleep too well--too far away, 31 - -ALEXANDER -It was the great Alexander, 32 - -FOR ALL THE GRIEF -For all the grief I have given with words 34 - -FAREWELL -When I lie where shades of darkness 35 - -CLEAR EYES -Clear eyes do dim at last, 36 - -MUSIC -When Music sounds, gone is the earth I know, 37 - -IN A CHURCHYARD -As children bidden to go to bed 38 - -TWO HOUSES -In the strange city of life 39 - -COLOPHON 40 - - - - - THE LITTLE SALAMANDER: TO MARGOT - - - When I go free, - I think ’twill be - A night of stars and snow, - And the wild fires of frost shall light - My footsteps as I go; - Nobody--nobody will be there - With groping touch, or sight, - To see me in my bush of hair - Dance burning through the night. - - - - - THE SUNKEN GARDEN - - - Speak not--whisper not; - Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; - Softly on the evening hour, - Secret herbs their spices shower, - Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh, - Lean-stalked, purple lavender; - Hides within her bosom, too, - All her sorrows, bitter rue. - - Breathe not--trespass not; - Of this green and darkling spot, - Latticed from the moon’s beams, - Perchance a distant dreamer dreams; - Perchance upon its darkening air, - The unseen ghosts of children fare, - Faintly swinging, sway and sweep, - Like lovely sea-flowers in its deep; - While, unmoved, to watch and ward, - ’Mid its gloom’d and daisied sward, - Stands with bowed and dewy head - That one little leaden Lad. - - - - - THE RIDDLERS - - - ‘Thou solitary!’ the Blackbird cried, - ‘I, from the happy Wren, - Linnet and Blackcap, Woodlark, Thrush, - Perched all upon a sweetbrier bush, - Have come at cold of midnight-tide - To ask thee, Why and when - Grief smote thy heart so thou dost sing - In solemn hush of evening, - So sorrowfully, lovelorn Thing-- - Nay, nay, not sing, but rave, but wail, - Most melancholic Nightingale? - Do not the dews of darkness steep - All pinings of the day in sleep? - Why, then, when rocked in starry nest - We mutely couch, secure, at rest, - Doth thy lone heart delight to make - Music for sorrow’s sake?’ - - A Moon was there. So still her beam, - It seemed the whole world lay a-dream, - Lulled by the watery sea. - And from her leafy night-hung nook - Upon this stranger soft did look - The Nightingale: sighed he:-- - - ‘’Tis strange, my friend; the Kingfisher - But yestermorn conjured me here - Out of his green and gold to say - Why thou, in splendour of the noon - Wearest of colour but golden shoon. - And else dost thee array - In a most sombre suit of black? - “Surely,” he sighed, “some load of grief, - Past all our thinking--and belief-- - Must weigh upon his back!” - Do, then, in turn, tell me,--If joy - Thy heart as well as voice employ, - Why dost thou now, most Sable, shine - In plumage woefuller far than mine? - Thy silence is a sadder thing - Than any dirge I sing!’ - - Thus then these two small birds, perched there, - Breathed a strange riddle both did share - Yet neither could expound. - And we--who sing but as we can, - In the small knowledge of a man-- - Have we an answer found? - Nay, some are happy whose delight - Is hid even from themselves from sight; - And some win peace who spend - The skill of words to sweeten despair - Of finding consolation where - Life has but one dark end; - Who, in rapt solitude, tell o’er - A tale as lovely as forlore - Into the midnight air. - - - - - MRS. GRUNDY - - - ‘Step very softly, sweet Quiet-foot, - Stumble not, whisper not, smile not: - By this dark ivy stoop cheek and brow. - Still even thy heart! What seest thou?’ - - ‘High coifed, broad-browed, aged, suave yet grim, - A large flat face, eyes keenly dim, - Staring at nothing--that’s me!--and yet, - With a hate one could never, no, never forget....’ - - ‘This is my world, my garden, my home, - Hither my father bade mother to come - And bear me out of the dark into light, - And happy I was in her tender sight. - - ‘And then, thou frail flower, she died and went, - Forgetting my pitiless banishment, - And that Old Woman--an Aunt--she said, - Came hither, lodged, fattened, and made her bed. - - ‘Oh yes, thou most blessed, from Monday to Sunday - Has lived on me, preyed on me, Mrs. Grundy: - Called me, “dear Nephew”; on each of those chairs - Has gloated in righteousness, heard my prayers. - - ‘Why didst thou dare the thorns of the grove, - Timidest trespasser, huntress of love? - Now thou has peeped, and now dost know - What kind of creature is thine for foe. - - ‘Not that she’ll tear out thy innocent eyes, - Poison thy mouth with deviltries. - Watch thou, wait thou: soon will begin - The guile of a voice: hark!... “Come in, Come in!”’ - - - - - THE DARK HOUSE - - - See this house, how dark it is - Beneath its vast-boughed trees! - Not one trembling leaflet cries - To that Watcher in the skies-- - ‘Remove, remove thy searching gaze, - Innocent, of Heaven’s ways, - Brood not, Moon, so wildly bright, - On secrets hidden from sight.’ - - ‘Secrets,’ sighs the night-wind, - ‘Vacancy is all I find; - Every keyhole I have made - Wail a summons, faint and sad, - No voice ever answers me, - Only vacancy.’ - ‘Once, once ...’ the cricket shrills, - And far and near the quiet fills - With its tiny voice, and then - Hush falls again. - - Mute shadows creeping slow - Mark how the hours go, - Every stone is mouldering slow, - And the least winds that blow - Some minutest atom shake, - Some fretting ruin make - In roof and walls. How black it is - Beneath these thick-boughed trees! - - - - - MISTRESS FELL - - - ‘Whom seek you here, sweet Mistress Fell?’ - ‘One who loved me passing well. - Dark his eye, wild his face-- - Stranger, if in this lonely place - Bide such an one, then, prythee, say - _I_ am come here to-day.’ - - ‘Many his like, Mistress Fell?’ - ‘I did not look, so cannot tell. - Only this I surely know, - When his voice called me, I must go; - Touched me his fingers, and my heart - Leapt at the sweet pain’s smart.’ - - ‘Why did he leave you, Mistress Fell?’ - ‘Magic laid its dreary spell.-- - Stranger, he was fast asleep; - Into his dream I tried to creep; - Called his name, soft was my cry: - He answered--not one sigh. - - ‘The flower and the thorn are here; - Falleth the night-dew, cold and clear; - Out of her bower the bird replies, - Mocking the dark with ecstasies: - See how the earth’s green grass doth grow, - Praising what sleeps below! - - ‘Thus have they told me. And I come, - As flies the wounded wild-bird home. - Not tears I give; but all that he - Clasped in his arms sweet charity; - All that he loved--to him I bring - For a close whispering.’ - - - - - THE STRANGER - - - In the woods as I did walk, - Dappled with the moon’s beam, - I did with a Stranger talk, - And his name was Dream. - - Spurred his heel, dark his cloak, - Shady-wide his bonnet’s brim; - His horse beneath a silvery oak - Grazed as I talked with him. - - Softly his breast-brooch burned and shone; - Hill and deep were in his eyes; - One of his hands held mine, and one - The fruit that makes men wise. - - Wonderly strange was earth to see, - Flowers white as milk did gleam; - Spread to Heaven the Assyrian Tree - Over my head with Dream. - - Dews were still betwixt us twain; - Stars a trembling beauty shed; - Yet--not a whisper comes again - Of the words he said. - - - - - THE FLIGHT - - - How do the days press on, and lay - Their fallen locks at evening down, - Whileas the stars in darkness play - And moonbeams weave a crown-- - - A crown of flower-like light in heaven, - Where in the hollow arch of space - Morn’s mistress dreams, and the Pleiads seven - Stand watch about her place. - - Stand watch--O days no number keep - Of hours when this dark clay is blind. - When the world’s clocks are dumb in sleep - ’Tis then I seek my kind. - - - - - THE REMONSTRANCE - - - I was at peace until you came - And set a careless mind aflame; - I lived in quiet; cold, content; - All longing in safe banishment, - Until your ghostly lips and eyes - Made wisdom unwise. - - Naught was in me to tempt your feet - To seek a lodging. Quite forgot - Lay the sweet solitude we two - In childhood used to wander through; - Time’s cold had closed my heart about; - And shut you out. - - Well, and what then?... O vision grave, - Take all the little all I have! - Strip me of what in voiceless thought - Life’s kept of life, unhoped, unsought!-- - Reverie and dream that memory must - Hide deep in dust! - - This only I say,--Though cold and bare - The haunted house you have chosen to share, - Still ’neath its walls the moonbeam goes - And trembles on the untended rose; - Still o’er its broken roof-tree rise - The starry arches of the skies; - And ’neath your lightest word shall be - The thunder of an ebbing sea. - - - - - THE EXILE - - - I am that Adam who, with Snake for guest, - Hid anguished eyes upon Eve’s piteous breast. - I am that Adam who, with broken wings, - Fled from the Seraph’s brazen trumpetings. - Betrayed and fugitive, I still must roam - A world where sin--and beauty--whisper of home. - - Oh, from wide circuit, shall at length I see - Pure daybreak lighten again on Eden’s tree? - Loosed from remorse and hope and love’s distress, - Enrobe me again in my lost nakedness? - No more with wordless grief a loved one grieve, - But to heaven’s nothingness re-welcome Eve? - - - - - EYES - - - O strange devices that alone divide - The seër from the seen-- - The very highway of earth’s pomp and pride - That lies between - The traveller and the cheating, sweet delight - Of where he longs to be, - But which, bound hand and foot, he, close on night, - Can only see. - - - - - THE TRYST - - - Why in my heart, o grief, - Dost thou in beauty bide? - Dead is my well-content, - And buried deep my pride. - Cold are their stones, beloved, - To hand and side. - - The shadows of even are gone, - Shut are the day’s clear flowers, - Now have her birds left mute - Their singing bowers, - Lone shall we be, we twain, - In the night hours. - - Thou with thy cheek on mine, - And dark hair loosed, shalt see - Take the far stars for fruit - The cypress tree, - And in the yew’s black - Shall the moon be. - - We will tell no old tales, - Nor heed if in wandering air - Die a lost song of love - Or the once fair; - Still as well-water be - The thoughts we share! - - And, while the ghosts keep - Tryst from chill sepulchres, - Dreamless our gaze shall sleep, - And sealed our ears; - Heart unto heart will speak, - Without tears. - - O, thy veiled, lovely face-- - Joy’s strange disguise-- - Shall be the last to fade - From these rapt eyes, - Ere the first dart of daybreak - Pierce the skies. - - - - - THE OLD MEN - - - Old and alone, sit we, - Caged, riddle-rid men; - Lost to earth’s ‘Listen!’ and ‘See!’ - Thought’s ‘Wherefore?’ and ‘When?’ - - Only far memories stray - Of a past once lovely, but now - Wasted and faded away, - Like green leaves from the bough. - - Vast broods the silence of night, - The ruinous moon - Lifts on our faces her light, - Whence all dreaming is gone. - - We speak not; trembles each head; - In their sockets our eyes are still; - Desire as cold as the dead; - Without wonder or will. - - And One, with a lanthorn, draws near, - At clash with the moon in our eyes: - ‘Where art thou?’ he asks: ‘I am here,’ - One by one we arise. - - And none lifts a hand to withhold - A friend from the touch of that foe: - Heart cries unto heart, ‘Thou art old!’ - Yet reluctant, we go. - - - - - THE FOOL’S SONG - - - Never, no, never, listen too long, - To the chattering wind in the willows, the night bird’s song. - - ’Tis sad in sooth to lie under the grass, - But none too gladsome to wake and grow cold where life’s shadows pass. - - Dumb the old Toll-Woman squats, - And, for every green copper battered and worn, doles out Nevers and Nots. - - I know a Blind Man, too, - Who with a sharp ear listens and listens the whole world through. - - Oh, sit we snug to our feast, - With platter and finger and spoon--and good victuals at least. - - - - - THE DREAMER - - - O thou who giving helm and sword, - Gav’st, too, the rusting rain, - And starry dark’s all tender dews - To blunt and stain: - - Out of the battle I am sped, - Unharmed, yet stricken sore; - A living shape ’mid whispering shades - On Lethe’s shore. - - No trophy in my hands I bring, - To this sad, sighing stream, - The neighings and the trumps and cries - Were but a dream--a dream. - - Traitor to life, of life betrayed-- - O, of thy mercy deep, - A dream my all, the all I ask - Is sleep. - - - - - MOTLEY - - - Come, Death, I’d have a word with thee; - And thou, poor Innocency; - And Love--a lad with broken wing; - And Pity, too: - The Fool shall sing to you, - As Fools will sing. - - Ay, music hath small sense, - And a tune’s soon told, - And Earth is old, - And my poor wits are dense; - Yet have I secrets,--dark, my dear, - To breathe you all: Come near. - And lest some hideous listener tells, - I’ll ring my bells. - - They’re all at war!-- - Yes, yes, their bodies go - ’Neath burning sun and icy star - To chaunted songs of woe, - Dragging cold cannon through a mire - Of rain and blood and spouting fire, - The new moon glinting hard on eyes - Wide with insanities! - - Hush!... I use words - I hardly know the meaning of; - And the mute birds - Are glancing at Love - From out their shade of leaf and flower, - Trembling at treacheries - Which even in noonday cower. - Heed, heed not what I said - Of frenzied hosts of men, - More fools than I, - On envy, hatred fed, - Who kill, and die-- - Spake I not plainly, then? - Yet Pity whispered, ‘Why?’ - - Thou silly thing, off to thy daisies go. - Mine was not news for child to know, - And Death--no ears hath. He hath supped where creep - Eyeless worms in hush of sleep; - Yet, when he smiles, the hand he draws - Athwart his grinning jaws-- - Faintly the thin bones rattle, and--There, there; - Hearken how my bells in the air - Drive away care!... - - Nay, but a dream I had - Of a world all mad. - Not simple happy mad like me, - Who am mad like an empty scene - Of water and willow tree, - Where the wind hath been; - But that foul Satan-mad, - Who rots in his own head, - And counts the dead, - Not honest one--and two-- - But for the ghosts they were, - Brave, faithful, true, - When head in air, - In Earth’s clear green and blue - Heaven they did share - With Beauty who bade them there.... - - There, now! Death goes-- - Mayhap I’ve wearied him. - Ay, and the light doth dim, - And asleep ’s the rose, - And tired Innocence - In dreams is hence.... - Come, Love, my lad, - Nodding that drowsy head, - ’Tis time thy prayers were said! - - - - - TO E. T.: 1917 - - - You sleep too well--too far away, - For sorrowing word to soothe or wound; - Your very quiet seems to say - How longed-for a peace you have found. - - Else, had not death so lured you on, - You would have grieved--’twixt joy and fear-- - To know how my small loving son - Had wept for you, my dear. - - - - - ALEXANDER - - - It was the great Alexander, - Capped with a golden helm, - Sate in the ages, in his floating ship, - In a dead calm. - - Voices of sea-maids singing - Wandered across the deep: - The sailors labouring on their oars - Rowed, as in sleep. - - All the high pomp of Asia, - Charmed by that siren lay, - Out of their weary and dreaming minds, - Faded away. - - Like a bold boy sate their Captain, - His glamour withered and gone, - In the souls of his brooding mariners, - While the song pined on. - - Time like a falling dew, - Life like the scene of a dream - Laid between slumber and slumber, - Only did seem.... - - O Alexander, then, - In all us mortals too, - Wax thou not bold--too bold - On the wave dark-blue! - - Come the calm, infinite night, - Who then will hear - Aught save the singing - Of the sea-maids clear? - - - - - FOR ALL THE GRIEF - - - For all the grief I have given with words - May now a few clear flowers blow, - In the dust, and the heat, and the silence of birds, - Where the lonely go. - - For the thing unsaid that heart asked of me - Be a dark, cool water calling--calling - To the footsore, benighted, solitary, - When the shadows are falling. - - O, be beauty for all my blindness, - A moon in the air where the weary wend, - And dews burdened with loving-kindness - In the dark of the end. - - - - - FAREWELL - - - When I lie where shades of darkness - Shall no more assail mine eyes, - Nor the rain make lamentation - When the wind sighs; - How will fare the world whose wonder - Was the very proof of me? - Memory fades, must the remembered - Perishing be? - - Oh, when this my dust surrenders - Hand, foot, lip, to dust again, - May these loved and loving faces - Please other men! - May the rusting harvest hedgerow - Still the Traveller’s Joy entwine, - And as happy children gather - Posies once mine. - - Look thy last on all things lovely, - Every hour. Let no night - Seal thy sense in deathly slumber - Till to delight - Thou have paid thy utmost blessing; - Since that all things thou wouldst praise - Beauty took from those who loved them - In other days. - - - - - CLEAR EYES - - - Clear eyes do dim at last, - And cheeks outlive their rose. - Time, heedless of the past, - No loving-kindness knows; - Chill unto mortal lip - Still Lethe flows. - - Griefs, too, but brief while stay, - And sorrow, being o’er, - Its salt tears shed away, - Woundeth the heart no more. - Stealthily lave those waters - That solemn shore. - - Ah, then, sweet face burn on, - While yet quick memory lives! - And Sorrow, ere thou art gone, - Know that my heart forgives-- - Ere yet, grown cold in peace, - It loves not, nor grieves. - - - - - MUSIC - - - When music sounds, gone is the earth I know, - And all her lovely things even lovelier grow; - Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees, - Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies. - - When music sounds, out of the water rise - Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes, - Rapt in strange dream burns each enchanted face, - With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place. - - When music sounds, all that I was I am - Ere to this haunt of brooding dust I came; - While from Time’s woods break into distant song - The swift-winged hours, as I hasten along. - - - - - IN A CHURCHYARD - - - As children bidden to go to bed - Puff out their candle’s light, - Since that the natural dark is best - For them to take their flight - - Into the realm of sleep: so we - God’s bidding did obey; - Not without fear our tired eyes shut, - And wait--and wait--the day. - - - - - TWO HOUSES - - - In the strange city of life - Two houses I know well: - One wherein Silence a garden hath, - And one where Dark doth dwell. - - Roof unto roof they stand, - Shadowing the dizzied street, - Where Vanity flaunts her gilded booths - In the noontide glare and heat. - - Green-graped upon their walls - The ancient, hoary vine - Hath clustered their carven lichenous stones - With tendril serpentine. - - And ever and anon, - Dazed in that clamorous throng, - I thirst for the soundless fount that stills - Those orchards mute of song. - - Knock, knock! nor knock in vain. - Heart, all thy secrets tell - Where Silence a fast-sealed garden hath - Where Dark doth dwell. - - - HERE ENDS THE SUNKEN GARDEN AND - Other Poems by Walter De La Mare the Typography - and Binding arranged by Cyril William Beaumont - Printed on his Press in London and Published - by him at 75 Charing Cross Road in the - City of Westminster Completed - on the first day of December - MDCCCCXVII - - [Illustration] - - The Binding has been - executed by F. Sangorski and G. Sutcliffe - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sunken Garden and other poems, by -Walter De la Mare - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUNKEN GARDEN AND OTHER POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 50240-0.txt or 50240-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/2/4/50240/ - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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