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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..716c054 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66000 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66000) diff --git a/old/66000-0.txt b/old/66000-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 133f321..0000000 --- a/old/66000-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1909 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Selected Poems, by Aldous Huxley - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Selected Poems - -Author: Aldous Huxley - -Release Date: August 6, 2021 [eBook #66000] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS *** - - - - - _Selected Poems_ - - - - - _Selected Poems_ - - _Aldous Huxley_ - - - _D APPLETON AND COMPANY - NEW YORK MCMXXV_ - - - - - _Printed and made in Great Britain_ - - - - -CONTENTS. - -[Illustration] - - - Page - -Song of Poplars 7 - -The Reef 9 - -The Flowers 12 - -The Elms 13 - -Out of the Window 14 - -Summer Stillness 15 - -Inspiration 16 - -Anniversaries 17 - -Italy 20 - -The Alien 22 - -A Little Memory 23 - -Waking 24 - -By the Fire 26 - -Valedictory 28 - -Private Property 30 - -Revelation 31 - -Minoan Porcelain 32 - -In Uncertainty to a Lady 33 - -Crapulous Impression 34 - -Complaint of a Poet Manqué 35 - -Social Amenities 36 - -Topiary 36 - -On the Bus 37 - -Points and Lines 38 - -Panic 38 - -Stanzas 39 - -Poem 40 - -Scenes of the Mind 41 - -L’Après-Midi d’un Faune 44 - -Mole 49 - -Two Realities 52 - -Quotidian Vision 53 - -The Mirror 53 - -Variations on a Theme of Laforgue 54 - -Philosophy 55 - -Philoclea in the Forest 55 - -Books and Thoughts 59 - -The Higher Sensualism 60 - -Formal Verses 61 - -Perils of the Small Hours 62 - -Return to an Old Home 63 - - - - -SONG OF POPLARS. - - -Shepherd, to yon tall poplars tune your flute: -Let them pierce, keenly, subtly shrill, -The slow blue rumour of the hill; -Let the grass cry with an anguish of evening gold, -And the great sky be mute. - -Then hearken how the poplar trees unfold -Their buds, yet close and gummed and blind, -In airy leafage of the mind, -Rustling in silvery whispers the twin-hued scales -That fade not nor grow old. - -“Poplars and fountains and you cypress spires -Springing in dark and rusty flame, -Seek you aught that hath a name? -Or say, say: Are you all an upward agony -Of undefined desires? - -“Say, are you happy in the golden march -Of sunlight all across the day? -Or do you watch the uncertain way -That leads the withering moon on cloudy stairs -Over the heaven’s wide arch? - -“Is it towards sorrow or towards joy you lift -The sharpness of your trembling spears? -Or do you seek, through the grey tears -That blur the sky, in the heart of the triumphing blue, -A deeper, calmer rift?” - -So; I have tuned my music to the trees, -And there were voices dim below -Their shrillness, voices swelling slow -In the blue murmur of hills, and a golden cry -And then vast silences. - - - - -THE REEF. - - -My green aquarium of phantom fish, -Goggling in on me through the misty panes; -My rotting leaves and fields spongy with rains; -My few clear quiet autumn days--I wish - -I could leave all, clearness and mistiness; -Sodden or goldenly crystal, all too still. -Yes, and I too rot with the leaves that fill -The hollows in the woods; I am grown less - -Than human, listless, aimless as the green -Idiot fishes of my aquarium, -Who loiter down their dim tunnels and come -And look at me and drift away, nought seen - -Or understood, but only glazedly -Reflected. Upwards, upwards through the shadows, -Through the lush sponginess of deep-sea meadows -Where hare-lipped monsters batten, let me ply - -Winged fins, bursting this matrix dark to find -Jewels and movement, mintage of sunlight -Scattered largely by the profuse wind, -And gulfs of blue brightness, too deep for sight. - -Free, newly born, on roads of music and air -Speeding and singing, I shall seek the place -Where all the shining threads of water race, -Drawn in green ropes and foamy meshes. There, - -On the red fretted ramparts of a tower -Of coral rooted in the depths, shall break -An endless sequence of joy and speed and power: -Green shall shatter to foam; flake with white flake - -Shall create an instant’s shining constellation -Upon the blue; and all the air shall be -Full of a million wings that swift and free -Laugh in the sun, all power and strong elation. - -Yes, I shall seek that reef, which is beyond -All isles however magically sleeping -In tideless seas, uncharted and unconned -Save by blind eyes: beyond the laughter and weeping - -That brood like a cloud over the lands of men. -Movement, passion of colour and pure wings, -Curving to cut like knives--these are the things -I search for:--passion beyond the ken -Of our foiled violences, and, more swift -Than any blow which man aims against time, -The invulnerable, motion that shall rift -All dimness with the lightning of a rhyme, - -Or note, or colour. And the body shall be -Quick as the mind; and will shall find release -From bondage to brute things; and joyously -Soul, will and body, in the strength of triune peace, - -Shall live the perfect grace of power unwasted. -And love consummate, marvellously blending -Passion and reverence in a single spring -Of quickening force, till now never yet tasted, - -But ever ceaselessly thirsted for, shall crown -The new life with its ageless starry fire. -I go to seek that reef, far down, far down -Below the edge of everyday’s desire, - -Beyond the magical islands, where of old -I was content, dreaming, to give the lie -To misery. They were all strong and bold -That thither came; and shall I dare to try? - - - - -THE FLOWERS. - - -Day after day, -At spring’s return, -I watch my flowers, how they burn -Their lives away. - -The candle crocus -And daffodil gold -Drink fire of the sunshine-- -Quickly cold. - -And the proud tulip-- -How red he glows!-- -Is quenched ere summer -Can kindle the rose. - -Purple as the innermost -Core of a sinking flame, -Deep in the leaves the violets smoulder -To the dust whence they came. - -Day after day -At spring’s return, -I watch my flowers, how they burn -Their lives away, -Day after day.... - - - - -THE ELMS. - - -Fine as the dust of plumy fountains blowing -Across the lanterns of a revelling night, -The tiny leaves of April’s earliest growing -Powder the trees--so vaporously light, -They seem to float, billows of emerald foam -Blown by the South on its bright airy tide, -Seeming less trees than things beatified, -Come from the world of thought which was their home. - -For a while only. Rooted strong and fast, -Soon will they lift towards the summer sky -Their mountain-mass of clotted greenery. -Their immaterial season quickly past, -They grow opaque, and therefore needs must die, -Since every earth to earth returns at last. - - - - -OUT OF THE WINDOW. - - -In the middle of countries, far from hills and sea, -Are the little places one passes by in trains -And never stops at; where the skies extend -Uninterrupted, and the level plains -Stretch green and yellow and green without an end. -And behind the glass of their Grand Express -Folk yawn away a province through, -With nothing to think of, nothing to do, -Nothing even to look at--never a “view” -In this damned wilderness. -But I look out of the window and find -Much to satisfy the mind. -Mark how the furrows, formed and wheeled -In a motion orderly and staid, -Sweep, as we pass, across the field -Like a drilled army on parade. -And here’s a market-garden, barred -With stripe on stripe of varied greens.... -Bright potatoes, flower starred, -And the opacous colour of beans. -Each line deliberately swings -Towards me, till I see a straight -Green avenue to the heart of things, -The glimpse of a sudden opened gate -Piercing the adverse walls of fate.... -A moment only, and then, fast, fast, -The gate swings to, the avenue closes; -Fate laughs, and once more interposes -Its barriers. - The train has passed. - - - - -SUMMER STILLNESS. - - -The stars are golden instants in the deep -Flawless expanse of night: the moon is set: -The river sleeps, entranced, a smooth cool sleep -Seeming so motionless that I forget -The hollow booming bridges, where it slides, -Dark with the sad looks that it bears along, -Towards a sea whose unreturning tides -Ravish the sighted ships and the sailors’ song. - - - - -INSPIRATION. - - -Noonday upon the Alpine meadows -Pours its avalanche of Light -And blazing flowers: the very shadows -Translucent are and bright. -It seems a glory that nought surpasses-- -Passion of angels in form and hue-- -When, lo! from the jewelled heaven of the grasses -Leaps a lightning of sudden blue. -Dimming the sun-drunk petals, -Bright even unto pain, -The grasshopper flashes, settles, -And then is quenched again. - - - - -ANNIVERSARIES. - - -Once more the windless days are here, -Quiet of autumn, when the year -Halts and looks backward and draws breath -Before it plunges into death. -Silver of mist and gossamers, -Through-shine of noonday’s glassy gold, -Pale blue of skies, where nothing stirs -Save one blanched leaf, weary and old, -That over and over slowly falls -From the mute elm-trees, hanging on air -Like tattered flags along the walls -Of chapels deep in sunlit prayer. -Once more.... Within its flawless glass -To-day reflects that other day, -When, under the bracken, on the grass, -We who were lovers happily lay -And hardly spoke, or framed a thought -That was not one with the calm hills -And crystal sky. Ourselves were nought, -Our gusty passions, our burning wills -Dissolved in boundlessness, and we -Were almost bodiless, almost free. -The wind has shattered silver and gold; -Night after night of sparkling cold, -Orion lifts his tangled feet -From where the tossing branches beat -In a fine surf against the sky. -So the trance ended, and we grew -Restless, we knew not how or why; -And there were sudden gusts that blew -Our dreaming banners into storm; -We wore the uncertain crumbling form -Of a brown swirl of windy leaves, -A phantom shape that stirs and heaves -Shuddering from earth, to fall again -With a dry whisper of withered rain. - -Last, from the dead and shrunken days -We conjured spring, lighting the blaze -Of burnished tulips in the dark; -And from black frost we struck a spark -Of blue delight and fragrance new, -A little world of flowers and dew. -Winter for us was over and done: -The drought of fluttering leaves had grown -Emerald shining in the sun, -As light as glass, as firm as stone. -Real once more: for we had passed -Through passion into thought again; -Shaped our desires and made that fast -Which was before a cloudy pain; -Moulded the dimness, fixed, defined -In a fair statue, strong and free, -Twin bodies flaming into mind, -Poised on the brink of ecstasy. - - - - -ITALY. - - -There is a country in my mind, -Lovelier than a poet blind -Could dream of, who had never known -This world of drought and dust and stone -In all its ugliness: a place -Full of an all but human grace; -Whose dells retain the printed form -Of heavenly sleep, and seem yet warm -From some pure body newly risen; -Where matter is no more a prison, -But freedom for the soul to know -Its native beauty. For things glow -There with an inward truth and are -All fire and colour like a star. -And in that land are domes and towers -That hang as light and bright as flowers -Upon the sky, and seem a birth -Rather of air than solid earth. - -Sometimes I dream that walking there -In the green shade, all unaware -At a new turn of the golden glade, -I shall see her, and as though afraid -Shall halt a moment and almost fall -For passing faintness, like a man -Who feels the sudden spirit of Pan -Brimming his narrow soul with all -The illimitable world. And she, -Turning her head, will let me see -The first sharp dawn of her surprise -Turning to welcome in her eyes. -And I shall come and take my lover -And looking on her re-discover -All her beauty:--her dark hair -And the little ears beneath it, where -Roses of lucid shadow sleep; -Her brooding mouth, and in the deep -Wells of her eyes reflected stars. - -Oh, the imperishable things -That hands and lips as well as words -Shall speak! Oh movement of white wings, -Oh wheeling galaxies of birds! - - - - -THE ALIEN. - - -A petal drifted loose -From a great magnolia bloom, -Your face hung in the gloom, -Floating, white and close. - -We seemed alone: but another -Bent o’er you with lips of flame, -Unknown, without a name, -Hated, and yet my brother. - -Your one short moan of pain -Was an exorcising spell: -The devil flew back to hell; -We were alone again. - - - - -A LITTLE MEMORY. - - -White in the moonlight, -Wet with dew, -We have known the languor -Of being two. - -We have been weary -As children are, -When over them, radiant, -A stooping star, - -Bends their Good-Night, -Kissed and smiled:-- -Each was mother, -Each was child. - -Child, from your forehead -I kissed the hair, -Gently, ah, gently: -And you were - -Mistress and mother -When on your breast -I lay so safely -And could rest. - - - - -WAKING. - - -Darkness had stretched its colour, -Deep blue across the pane: -No cloud to make night duller, -No moon with its tarnish stain; -But only here and there a star, -One sharp point of frosty fire, -Hanging infinitely far -In mockery of our life and death -And all our small desire. - -Now in this hour of waking -From under brows of stone, -A new pale day is breaking -And the deep night is gone. -Sordid now, and mean and small -The daylight world is seen again, -With only the veils of mist that fall -Deaf and muffling over all -To hide its ugliness and pain. - -But to-day this dawn of meanness -Shines in my eyes, as when -The new world’s brightness and cleanness -Broke on the first of men. -For the light that shows the huddled things -Of this close-pressing earth, -Shines also on your face and brings -All its dear beauty back to me -In a new miracle of birth. - -I see you asleep and unpassioned, -White-faced in the dusk of your hair-- -Your beauty so fleetingly fashioned -That it filled me once with despair -To look on its exquisite transience -And think that our love and thought and laughter -Puff out with the death of our flickering sense, -While we pass ever on and away -Towards some blank hereafter. - -But now I am happy, knowing -That swift time is our friend, -And that our love’s passionate glowing, -Though it turn ash in the end, -Is a rose of fire that must blossom its way -Through temporal stuff, nor else could be -More than a nothing. Into day -The boundless spaces of night contract -And in your opening eyes I see -Night born in day, in time eternity. - - - - -BY THE FIRE. - - -We who are lovers sit by the fire, -Cradled warm ’twixt thought and will, -Sit and drowse like sleeping dogs -In the equipoise of all desire, -Sit and listen to the still -Small hiss and whisper of green logs -That burn away, that burn away -With the sound of a far-off falling stream -Of threaded water blown to steam, -Grey ghost in the mountain world of grey. -Vapours blue as distance rise -Between the hissing logs that show -A glimpse of rosy heat below; -And candles watch with tireless eyes -While we sit drowsing here. I know, -Dimly, that there exists a world, -That there is time perhaps, and space -Other and wider than this place, -Where at the fireside drowsily curled -We hear the whisper and watch the flame -Burn blinkless and inscrutable. -And then I know those other names -That through my brain from cell to cell -Echo--reverberated shout -Of waiters mournful along corridors: -But nobody carries the orders out, -And the names (dear friends, your name and yours) -Evoke no sign. But here I sit -On the wide hearth, and there are you: -That is enough and only true. -The world and the friends that lived in it -Are shadows: you alone remain -Real in this drowsing room, -Full of the whispers of distant rain -And candles staring into the gloom. - - - - -VALEDICTORY. - - -I had remarked--how sharply one observes -When life is disappearing round the curves -Of yet another corner, out of sight!-- -I had remarked when it was “good luck” and “good night” -And “a good journey to you,” on her face -Certain enigmas penned in the hieroglyphs -Of that half frown and queer fixed smile and trace -Of clouded thought in those brown eyes, -Always so happily clear of hows and ifs-- -My poor bleared mind!--and haunting whys. - -There I stood, holding her farewell hand, -(Pressing my life and soul and all -The world to one good-bye, till, small -And smaller pressed, why there I’d stand -Dead when they vanished with the sight of her). -And I saw that she had grown aware, -Queer puzzled face! of other things -Beyond the present and her own young speed, -Of yesterday and what new days might breed -Monstrously when the future brings -A charger with your late-lamented head: -Aware of other people’s lives and will, -Aware, perhaps, aware even of me.... -The joyous hope of it! But still -I pitied her; for it was sad to see -A goddess shorn of her divinity. -In the midst of her speed she had made pause, -And doubts with all their threat of claws, -Outstripped till now by her unconsciousness, -Had seized on her; she was proved mortal now. -“Live, only live? For you were meant -Never to know a thought’s distress, -But a long glad astonishment -At the world’s beauty and your own. -The pity of you, goddess, grown -Perplexed and mortal!” - Yet ... yet ... can it be -That she is aware, perhaps, even of me? - -And life recedes, recedes; the curve is bare, -My handkerchief flutters blankly in the air; -And the question rumbles in the void: -Was she aware, was she after all aware? - - - - -PRIVATE PROPERTY. - - -All fly--yet who is misanthrope?-- -The actual men and things that pass -Jostling, to wither as the grass -So soon: and (be it heaven’s hope, -Or poetry’s kaleidoscope, -Or love or wine, at feast, at mass) -Each owns a paradise of glass -Where never a yearning heliotrope -Pursues the sun’s ascent or slope; -For the sun dreams there, and no time is or was. - -Like fauns embossed in our domain, -We look abroad, and our calm eyes -Mark how the goatish gods of pain -Revel; and if by grim surprise -They break into our paradise, -Patient we build its beauty up again. - - - - -REVELATION. - - -At your mouth, white and milk-warm sphinx, -I taste a strange apocalypse: -Your subtle taper finger-tips -Weave me new heavens, yet, methinks, -I know the wiles and each iynx -That brought me passionate to your lips: -I know you bare as laughter strips -Your charnel beauty; yet my spirit drinks - -Pure knowledge from this tainted well, -And now hears voices yet unheard -Within it, and without it sees -That world of which the poets tell -Their vision in the stammered word -Of those that wake from piercing ecstasies. - - - - -MINOAN PORCELAIN. - - -Her eyes of bright unwinking glaze -All imperturbable do not -Even make pretences to regard -The jutting absence of her stays, -Where many a Tyrian gallipot -Excites desire with spilth of nard. -The bistred rims above the fard -Of cheeks as red as bergamot -Attest that no shamefaced delays -Will clog fulfilment, nor retard -Full payment of the Cyprian’s praise -Down to the last remorseful jot. -Hail priestess of we know not what -Strange cult of Mycenean days! - - - - -IN UNCERTAINTY TO A LADY. - - -I am not one of those who sip, -Like a quotidian bock, -Cheap idylls from a languid lip -Prepared to yawn or mock. - -I wait the indubitable word, -The great Unconscious Cue. -Has it been spoken and unheard? -Spoken, perhaps, by you? - - - - -CRAPULOUS IMPRESSION. - - -Still life, still life ... the high-lights shine -Hard and sharp on the bottles: the wine -Stands firmly solid in the glasses, -Smooth yellow ice, through which there passes -The lamp’s bright pencil of down-struck light. -The fruits metallically gleam, -Globey in their heaped-up bowl, -And there are faces against the night -Of the outer room--faces that seem -Part of this still, still life ... they’ve lost their soul. - -And amongst these frozen faces you smiled, -Surprised, surprisingly, like a child: -And out of the frozen welter of sound -Your voice came quietly, quietly. -“What about God?” you said. “I have found -Much to be said for Totality. -All, I take it, is God: God’s all-- -This bottle, for instance....” I recall, -Dimly, that you took God by the neck-- -God-in-the-bottle--and pushed Him across: -But I, without a moment’s loss -Moved God-in-the-salt in front and shouted: “Check!” - - - - -COMPLAINT OF A POET MANQUÉ. - - -We judge by appearance merely: -If I can’t think strangely, I can at least look queerly. -So I grew the hair so long on my head -That my mother wouldn’t know me, -Till a woman in a night-club said, -As I was passing by, -“Hullo, here comes Salome.” - -I looked in the dirty gilt-edged glass, -And, oh Salome! there I was-- -Positively jewelled, half a vampire, -With the soul in my eyes hanging dizzily -Like the gatherer of proverbial samphire -Over the brink of the crag of sense, -Looking down from perilous eminence -Into a gulf of windy night. -And there’s straw in my tempestuous hair, -And I’m not a poet: but never despair! -I’ll madly live the poems I shall never write. - - - - -SOCIAL AMENITIES. - - -I am getting on well with this anecdote, -When suddenly I recall -The many times I have told it of old, -And all the worked-up phrases, and the dying fall -Of voice, well timed in the crisis, the note -Of mock-heroic ingeniously struck-- -The whole thing sticks in my throat, -And my face all tingles and pricks with shame -For myself and my hearers. -These are the social pleasures, my God! -But I finish the story triumphantly all the same. - - - - -TOPIARY. - - -Failing sometimes to understand -Why there are folk whose flesh should seem -Like carrion puffed with noisome steam, -Fly-blown to the eye that looks on it, -Fly-blown to the touch of a hand; -Why there are men without any legs, -Whizzing along on little trollies -With long long arms like apes’: -Failing to see why God the Topiarist -Should train and carve and twist -Men’s bodies into such fantastic shapes: -Yes, failing to see the point of it all, I sometimes wish -That I were a fabulous thing in a fool’s mind, -Or, at the ocean bottom, in a world that is deaf and blind, -Very remote and happy, a great goggling fish. - - - - -ON THE ’BUS. - - -Sitting on the top of the ’bus, -I bite my pipe and look at the sky. -Over my shoulder the smoke streams out -And my life with it. -“Conservation of energy,” you say. -But I burn, I tell you, I burn; -And the smoke of me streams out -In a vanishing skein of grey. -Crash and bump ... my poor bruised body! -I am a harp of twittering strings, -An elegant instrument, but infinitely second-hand, -And if I have not got phthisis it is only an accident. -Droll phenomena! - - - - -POINTS AND LINES. - - -Instants in the quiet, small sharp stars, -Pierce my spirit with a thrust whose speed -Baffles even the grasp of time. -Oh that I might reflect them -As swiftly, as keenly as they shine. -But I am a pool of waters, summer-still, -And the stars are mirrored across me; -Those stabbing points of the sky -Turned to a thread of shaken silver, -A long fine thread. - - - - -PANIC. - - -The eyes of the portraits on the wall -Look at me, follow me, -Stare incessantly: -I take it their glance means nothing at all? ---Clearly, oh clearly! Nothing at all.... - -Out in the gardens by the lake -The sleeping peacocks suddenly wake; -Out in the gardens, moonlit and forlorn, -Each of them sounds his mournful horn: -Shrill peals that waver and crack and break. -What can have made the peacocks wake? - - - - -STANZAS. - - -Thought is an unseen net wherein our mind -Is taken and vainly struggles to be free: -Words, that should loose our spirit, do but bind -New fetters on our hoped-for liberty: -And action bears us onward like a stream -Past fabulous shores, scarce seen in our swift course; -Glorious--and yet its headlong currents seem -But backwaters of some diviner force. - -There are slow curves, more subtle far than thought, -That stoop to carry the grace of a girl’s breast; -And hanging flowers, so exquisitely wrought -In airy metal, that they seem possessed -Of souls; and there are distant hills that lift -The shoulder of a god towards the light; -And arrowy trees, sudden and sharp and swift, -Piercing the spirit deeply with delight. - -Would I might make these miracles my own! -Like a pure angel, thinking colour and form; -Hardening to rage in a flame of chiselled stone; -Spilling my love like sunlight, golden and warm -On noonday flowers; speaking the song of birds -Among the branches; whispering the fall of rain; -Beyond all thought, past action and past words, -I would live in beauty, free from self and pain. - - - - -POEM. - - -Books and a coloured skein of thoughts were mine; -And magic words lay ripening in my soul -Till their much-whispered music turned a wine -Whose subtlest power was all in my control. - -These things were mine, and they were real for me -As lips and darling eyes and a warm breast: -For I could love a phrase, a melody, -Like a fair woman, worshipped and possessed. - -I scorned all fire that outward of the eyes -Could kindle passion; scorned, yet was afraid; -Feared, and yet envied those more deeply wise -Who saw the bright earth beckon and obeyed. - -But a time came when, turning full of hate -And weariness from my remembered themes, -I wished my poet’s pipe could modulate -Beauty more palpable than words and dreams. - -All loveliness with which an act informs -The dim uncertain chaos of desire -Is mine to day; it touches me, it warms -Body and spirit with its outward fire. - -I am mine no more: I have become a part -Of that great earth that draws a breath and stirs -To meet the spring. But I could wish my heart -Were still a winter of frosty gossamers. - - - - -SCENES OF THE MIND. - - -I have run where festival was loud -With drum and brass among the crowd -Of panic revellers, whose cries -Affront the quiet of the skies; -Whose dancing lights contract the deep -Infinity of night and sleep -To a narrow turmoil of troubled fire. -And I have found my heart’s desire -In beechen caverns that autumn fills -With the blue shadowiness of distant hills; -Whose luminous grey pillars bear -The stooping sky: calm is the air, -Nor any sound is heard to mar -That crystal silence--as from far, -Far off a man may see -The busy world all utterly -Hushed as an old memorial scene. -Long evenings I have sat and been -Strangely content, while in my hands -I held a wealth of coloured strands, -Shimmering plaits of silk and skeins -Of soft bright wool. Each colour drains -New life at the lamp’s round pool of gold; -Each sinks again when I withhold -The quickening radiance, to a wan -And shadowy oblivion -Of what it was. And in my mind -Beauty or sudden love has shined -And wakened colour in what was dead -And turned to gold the sullen lead -Of mean desires and everyday’s -Poor thoughts and customary ways. -Sometimes in lands where mountains throw -Their silent spell on all below, -Drawing a magic circle wide -About their feet on every side, -Robbed of all speech and thought and act, -I have seen God in the cataract. -In falling water and in flame, -Never at rest, yet still the same, -God shows himself. And I have known -The swift fire frozen into stone, -And water frozen changelessly -Into the death of gems. And I -Long sitting by the thunderous mill -Have seen the headlong wheel made still, -And in the silence that ensued -Have known the endless solitude -Of being dead and utterly nought. -Inhabitant of mine own thought, -I look abroad, and all I see -Is my creation, made for me: -Along my thread of life are pearled -The moments that make up the world. - - - - -L’APRÈS-MIDI D’UN FAUNE. - -(From the French of Stéphane Mallarmé.) - - -I would immortalize these nymphs; so bright -Their sunlit colouring, so airy light, -It floats like drowsy down. Loved I a dream? -My doubts, born of oblivious darkness, seem -A subtle tracery of branches grown -The tree’s true self--proving that I have known, -Thinking it love, the blushing of a rose. -But think. These nymphs, their loveliness ... suppose -They bodied forth your senses’ fabulous thirst? -Illusion! which the blue eyes of the first, -As cold and chaste as is the weeping spring, -Beget: the other, sighing, passioning, -Is she the wind, warm in your fleece at noon? -No; through this quiet, when a weary swoon -Crushes and chokes the latest faint essay -Of morning, cool against the encroaching day, -There is no murmuring water, save the gush -Of my clear fluted notes; and in the hush -Blows never a wind, save that which through my reed -Puffs out before the rain of notes can speed -Upon the air, with that calm breath of art -That mounts the unwrinkled zenith visibly, -Where inspiration seeks its native sky. -You fringes of a calm Sicilian lake, -The sun’s own mirror which I love to take, -Silent beneath your starry flowers, tell -_How here I cut the hollow rushes, well_ -_Tamed by my skill, when on the glaucous gold_ -_Of distant lawns about their fountain cold_ -_A living whiteness stirs like a lazy wave;_ -_And at the first slow notes my panpipes gave_ -_These flocking swans, these naiads, rather, fly_ -_Or dive_. Noon burns inert and tawny dry, -Nor marks how clean that Hymen slipped away -From me who seek in song the real A. -Wake, then, to the first ardour and the sight, -O lonely faun, of the old fierce white light, -With, lilies, one of you for innocence. -Other than their lips’ delicate pretence, -The light caress that quiets treacherous lovers, -My breast, I know not how to tell, discovers -The bitten print of some immortal’s kiss. -But hush! a mystery so great as this -I dare not tell, save to my double reed, -Which, sharer of my every joy and need, -Dreams down its cadenced monologues that we -Falsely confuse the beauties that we see -With the bright palpable shapes our song creates: -My flute, as loud as passion modulates, -Purges the common dream of flank and breast, -Seen through closed eyes and inwardly caressed, -Of every empty and monotonous line. - -Bloom then, O Syrinx, in thy flight malign, -A reed once more beside our trysting-lake. -Proud of my music, let me often make -A song of goddesses and see their rape -Profanely done on many a painted shape. -So when the grape’s transparent juice I drain, -I quell regret for pleasures past and feign -A new real grape. For holding towards the sky -The empty skin, I blow it tight and lie -Dream-drunk till evening, eyeing it. - Tell o’er -Remembered joys and plump the grape once more. -_Between the reeds I saw their bodies gleam_ -_Who cool no mortal fever in the stream_ -_Crying to the woods the rage of their desire:_ -_And their bright hair went down in jewelled fire_ -_Where crystal broke and dazzled shudderingly._ -_I check my swift pursuit: for see where lie,_ -_Bruised, being twins in love, by languor sweet,_ -_Two sleeping girls, clasped at my very feet._ -_I seize and run with them, nor part the pair,_ -_Breaking this covert of frail petals, where_ -_Roses drink scent of the sun and our light play_ -_’Mid tumbled flowers shall match the death of day._ -I love that virginal fury--ah, the wild -Thrill when a maiden body shrinks, defiled, -Shuddering like arctic light, from lips that sear -Its nakedness ... the flesh in secret fear! -Contagiously through my linked pair it flies -Where innocence in either, struggling, dies, -Wet with fond tears or some less piteous dew. -_Gay in the conquest of these fears, I grew_ -_So rash that I must needs the sheaf divide_ -_Of ruffled kisses heaven itself had tied._ -_For as I leaned to stifle in the hair_ -_Of one my passionate laughter (taking care_ -_With a stretched finger, that her innocence_ -_Might stain with her companion’s kindling sense_ -_To touch the younger little one, who lay_ -_Child-like unblushing) my ungrateful prey_ -_Slips from me, freed by passion’s sudden death_ -_Nor heeds the frenzy of my sobbing breath._ - -Let it pass! others of their hair shall twist -A rope to drag me to those joys I missed. -See how the ripe pomegranates bursting red -To quench the thirst of the mumbling bees have bled; -So too our blood, kindled by some chance fire, -Flows for the swarming legions of desire. -At evening, when the woodland green turns gold -And ashen grey, ’mid the quenched leaves, behold! -Red Etna glows, by Venus visited, -Walking the lava with her snowy tread -Whene’er the flames in thunderous slumber die. -I hold the goddess! - Ah, sure penalty! - -But the unthinking soul and body swoon -At last beneath the heavy hush of noon. -Forgetful let me lie where summer’s drouth -Sifts fine the sand and then with gaping mouth -Dream planet-struck by the grape’s round wine-red star. - -Nymphs, I shall see the shade that now you are. - - - - -MOLE. - - -Tunnelled in solid blackness creeps -The old mole-soul, and wakes or sleeps, -He knows not which, but tunnels on -Through ages of oblivion; -Until at last the long constraint -Of each hand-wall is lost, and faint -Comes daylight creeping from afar, -And mole-work grows crepuscular. -Tunnel meets air and bursts; mole sees -Men as strange as walking trees? -And far horizons smoking blue, -And chasing clouds for ever new; -Green hills, like lighted lamps aglow -Or quenched beneath the cloud-shadow; -Quenching and blazing turn by turn, -Spring’s great green signals fitfully burn. -Mole travels on, but finds the steering -A harder task of pioneering -Than when he thridded through the strait -Blind catacombs that ancient fate -Had carved for him. Stupid and dumb -And blind and touchless he had come -A way without a turn; but here, -Under the sky, the passenger -Chooses his own best way; and mole -Distracted wanders, yet his hole -Regrets not much wherein he crept, -But runs, a joyous nympholept, -This way and that, by all made mad-- -River nymph and oread, -Ocean’s daughters and Lorelei, -Combing the silken mystery, -The glaucous gold of her rivery tresses-- -Each haunts the traveller, each possesses -The drunken wavering soul awhile; -Then with a phantom’s cock-crow smile -Mocks craving with sheer vanishment. - Mole-eyes grow hawk’s: knowledge is lent -In grudging driblets that pay high -Unconscionable usury. -To unrelenting life. Mole learns -To travel more secure; the turns -Of his long way less puzzling seem, -And all those magic forms that gleam -In airy invitation cheat -Less often than they did of old. - The earth slopes upward, fold by fold -Of quiet hills that meet the gold -Serenity of western skies. -Over the world’s edge with clear eyes -Our mole transcendent sees his way -Tunnelled in light: he must obey -Necessity again and thrid -Close catacombs as erst he did, -Fate’s tunnellings, himself must bore -Through the sunset’s inmost core. -The guiding walls to each-hand shine -Luminous and crystalline; -And mole shall tunnel on and on, -Till night let fall oblivion. - - - - -TWO REALITIES. - - -A waggon passed with scarlet wheels - And a yellow body, shining new. -“Splendid!” said I. “How fine it feels -To be alive, when beauty peels - The grimy husk from life.” And you - -Said, “Splendid!” and I thought you’d seen - That waggon blazing down the street; -But I looked and saw that your gaze had been -On a child that was kicking an obscene - Brown ordure with his feet. - -Our souls are elephants, thought I, - Remote behind a prisoning grill, -With trunks thrust out to peer and pry -And pounce upon reality; - And each at his own sweet will - -Seizes the bun that he likes best -And passes over all the rest. - - - - -QUOTIDIAN VISION. - - -There is a sadness in the street, -And sullenly the folk I meet -Droop their heads as they walk along, -Without a smile, without a song. -A mist of cold and muffling grey -Falls, fold by fold, on another day -That dies unwept. But suddenly, -Under a tunnelled arch I see -On flank and haunch the chestnut gleam -Of horses in a lamplit steam; -And the dead world moves for me once more -With beauty for its living core. - - - - -THE MIRROR. - - -Slow-moving moonlight once did pass -Across the dreaming looking-glass, -Where, sunk inviolably deep, -Old secrets unforgotten sleep -Of beauties unforgettable. -But dusty cobwebs are woven now -Across that mirror, which of old -Saw fingers drawing back the gold -From an untroubled brow; -And the depths are blinded to the moon, -And their secrets forgotten, for ever untold. - - - - -VARIATIONS ON A THEME OF -LAFORGUE. - - -Youth as it opens out discloses -The sinister metempsychosis -Of lilies dead and turned to roses -Red as an angry dawn. -But lilies, remember, are grave-side flowers, - While slow bright rose-leaves sail -Adrift on the music of happiest hours; - And those lilies, cold and pale, -Hide fiery roses beneath the lawn - Of the young bride’s parting veil. - - - - -PHILOSOPHY. - - -“God needs no christening,” - Pantheist mutters, - “Love opens shutters -On heaven’s glistening, -Flesh, key-hole listening, - Hear what God utters”.... - Yes, but God stutters. - - - - -PHILOCLEA IN THE FOREST. - - -I. - -’Twas I that leaned to Amoret -With: “What if the briars have tangled Time, -Till, lost in the wood-ways, he quite forget -How plaintive in cities at midnight sounds the chime -Of bells slow-dying from discord to the hush whence they rose and met? - -“And in the forest we shall live free, -Free from the bondage that Time has made -To hedge our soul from its liberty; -We shall not fear what is mighty, and unafraid -Shall look wide-eyed at beauty, nor shrink from its majesty.” - -But Amoret answered me again: -“We are lost in the forest, you and I; -Lost, lost, not free, though no bonds restrain; -For no spire rises for comfort, no landmark in the sky, -And the long glades as they curve from sight are dark with a nameless pain. - -And Time creates what he devours,-- -Music that sweetly dreams itself away, -Frail-swung leaves of autumn and the scent of flowers, -And the beauty of that poised moment, when the day -Hangs ’twixt the quiet of darkness and the mirth of the sunlit hours.” - - -II. - -Mottled and grey and brown they pass, -The wood-moths, wheeling, fluttering; -And we chase and they vanish; and in the grass -Are starry flowers, and the birds sing -Faint broken songs of the dying spring. - And on the beech-hole, smooth and grey, - Some lover of an older day -Has carved in time-blurred lettering - One world only:--“Alas.” - - -III. - -Lutes, I forbid you! You must never play, - When shimmeringly, glimpse by glimpse -Seen through the leaves, the silken figures sway -In measured dance. Never at shut of day, - When Time perversely loitering limps - Through endless twilights, should your strings - Whisper of light remembered things -That happened long ago and far away: -Lutes, I forbid you! You must never play.... - -And you, pale marble statues, far descried - Where vistas open suddenly, -I bid you shew yourselves no more, but hide -Your loveliness, lest too much glorified - By western radiance slantingly - Shot down the glade, you turn from stone - To living gods, immortal grown, -And, ageless, mock my beauty’s fleeting pride, -You pale, relentless statues, far descried.... - - - - -BOOKS AND THOUGHTS. - - -Old ghosts that death forgot to ferry -Across the Lethe of the years-- -These are my friends, and at their tears -I weep and with their mirth am merry. -On a high tower, whose battlements -Give me all heaven at a glance, -I lie long summer nights in trance, -Drowsed by the murmurs and the scents -That rise from earth, while the sky above me -Merges its peace with my soul’s peace, -Deep meeting deep. No stir can move me, -Nought break the quiet of my release: - In vain the windy sunlight raves - At the hush and gloom of polar caves. - - - - -THE HIGHER SENSUALISM. - - -There’s a church by a lake in Italy -Stands white on a hill against the sky; -And a path of immemorial cobbles -Leads up and up, where the pilgrim hobbles -Past a score or so of neat reposories, -Where you stop and breathe and tell your rosaries -To the shrined terra-cotta mannikins, -That expound with the liveliest quirks and grins -Known texts of Scripture. But no long stay -Should the pilgrim make upon his way; -But as means to the end these shrines stand here -To guide to something holier, -The church on the hill top. - - Your heaven’s so -With a path leading up to it past a row -Of votary Priapulids; -At each you pause and tell your beads -Along the quintuple strings of sense: -Then on, to face Heaven’s eminence, -New stimulated, new inspired. - - - - -FORMAL VERSES. - - -I. - -Mother of all my future memories, - Mistress of my new life, which but to-day -Began, when I beheld, deep in your eyes, -My own love mirrored and the warm surprise - Of the first kiss swept both our souls away, - -Your love has freed me; for I was oppressed - By my own devil, whose unwholesome breath -Tarnished my youth, leaving to me at best -Age lacking comfort of a soul at rest - And weariness beyond the hope of death. - - -II. - -Ah, those were days of silent happiness! - I never spoke, and had no need to speak, - While on the windy down-land, cheek by cheek, -The slow-driven sun beheld us. Each caress -Had oratory for its own defence; -And when I kissed or felt her fingers press, - I envied not Demosthenes his Greek, -Nor Tully for his Latin eloquence. - - - - -PERILS OF THE SMALL HOURS. - - -When life burns low as the fire in the grate -And all the evening’s books are read, -I sit alone, save for the dead -And the lovers I have grown to hate. - -But all at once the narrow gloom -Of hatred and despair expands -In tenderness: thought stretches hands -To welcome to the midnight room - -Another presence:--a memory -Of how last year in the sunlit field, -Laughing, you suddenly revealed -Beauty in immortality. - -For so it is; a gesture strips -Life bare of all its make-believe. -All unprepared we may receive -Our casual apocalypse. - -Sheer beauty, then you seemed to stir -Unbodied soul; soul sleeps to night, -And love comes, dimming spirit’s sight, -When body plays interpreter. - - - - -RETURN TO AN OLD HOME. - - -In this wood--how the hazels have grown!-- -I left a treasure all my own -Of childish kisses and laughter and pain; -Left, till I might come back again -To take from the familiar earth -My hoarded secret and count its worth. -And all the spider-work of the years, -All the time-spun gossamers, -Dewed with each succeeding spring; -And the piled up leaves the Autumns fling -To the sweet corruption of death on death.... -At the sudden stir of my spirit’s breath -All scattered. New and fair and bright -As ever it was, before my sight -The treasure lay, and nothing missed. -So having handled all and kissed, -I put them back, adding one new -And precious memory of you. - - -_Printed at The Vincent Works, Oxford._ - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Selected Poems</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Aldous Huxley</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 6, 2021 [eBook #66000]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="c"> -<a href="images/cover.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="500" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">{1}</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">{2}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="c"><i>Selected Poems</i></p> - -<h1> -<i>Selected Poems</i></h1> - -<p class="c"><i>Aldous Huxley</i><br /> -<br /><br /> -<br /> -<i>D APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> -NEW YORK MCMXXV</i><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="c"><i>Printed and made in Great Britain</i></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/leaf.png" -width="30" -alt="" -/></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary="deprecated"> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>Page</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#SONG_OF_POPLARS">Song of Poplars</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_7">7</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#THE_REEF">The Reef</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_9">9</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#THE_FLOWERS">The Flowers</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_12">12</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#THE_ELMS">The Elms</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_13">13</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#OUT_OF_THE_WINDOW">Out of the Window</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_14">14</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#SUMMER_STILLNESS">Summer Stillness</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_15">15</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#INSPIRATION">Inspiration</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_16">16</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ANNIVERSARIES">Anniversaries</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_17">17</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ITALY">Italy</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_20">20</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#THE_ALIEN">The Alien</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_22">22</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#A_LITTLE_MEMORY">A Little Memory</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_23">23</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#WAKING">Waking</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_24">24</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#BY_THE_FIRE">By the Fire</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_26">26</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#VALEDICTORY">Valedictory</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_28">28</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#PRIVATE_PROPERTY">Private Property</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#REVELATION">Revelation</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#MINOAN_PORCELAIN">Minoan Porcelain</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#IN_UNCERTAINTY_TO_A_LADY">In Uncertainty to a Lady</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#CRAPULOUS_IMPRESSION">Crapulous Impression</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#COMPLAINT_OF_A_POET_MANQUE">Complaint of a Poet Manqué</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_35">35</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#SOCIAL_AMENITIES">Social Amenities</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#TOPIARY">Topiary</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ON_THE_BUS">On the Bus</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_37">37</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#POINTS_AND_LINES">Points and Lines</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#PANIC">Panic</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#STANZAS">Stanzas</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_39">39</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#POEM">Poem</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_40">40</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#SCENES_OF_THE_MIND">Scenes of the Mind</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#LAPRES-MIDI_DUN_FAUNE">L’Après-Midi d’un Faune</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#MOLE">Mole</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_49">49</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#TWO_REALITIES">Two Realities</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_52">52</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#QUOTIDIAN_VISION">Quotidian Vision</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_53">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#THE_MIRROR">The Mirror</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_53">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#VARIATIONS_ON_A_THEME_OF_LAFORGUE">Variations on a Theme of Laforgue</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_54">54</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#PHILOSOPHY">Philosophy</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_55">55</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#PHILOCLEA_IN_THE_FOREST">Philoclea in the Forest</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_55">55</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#BOOKS_AND_THOUGHTS">Books and Thoughts</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#THE_HIGHER_SENSUALISM">The Higher Sensualism</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_60">60</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#FORMAL_VERSES">Formal Verses</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_61">61</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#PERILS_OF_THE_SMALL_HOURS">Perils of the Small Hours</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_62">62</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#RETURN_TO_AN_OLD_HOME">Return to an Old Home</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_63">63</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="SONG_OF_POPLARS" id="SONG_OF_POPLARS"></a>SONG OF POPLARS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>HEPHERD, to yon tall poplars tune your flute:<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Let them pierce, keenly, subtly shrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slow blue rumour of the hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the grass cry with an anguish of evening gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the great sky be mute.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then hearken how the poplar trees unfold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their buds, yet close and gummed and blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In airy leafage of the mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rustling in silvery whispers the twin-hued scales<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fade not nor grow old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Poplars and fountains and you cypress spires<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Springing in dark and rusty flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seek you aught that hath a name?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or say, say: Are you all an upward agony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of undefined desires?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Say, are you happy in the golden march<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sunlight all across the day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or do you watch the uncertain way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That leads the withering moon on cloudy stairs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the heaven’s wide arch?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Is it towards sorrow or towards joy you lift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sharpness of your trembling spears?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or do you seek, through the grey tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That blur the sky, in the heart of the triumphing blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A deeper, calmer rift?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So; I have tuned my music to the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there were voices dim below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their shrillness, voices swelling slow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the blue murmur of hills, and a golden cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then vast silences.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_REEF" id="THE_REEF"></a>THE REEF.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">M</span>Y green aquarium of phantom fish,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Goggling in on me through the misty panes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My rotting leaves and fields spongy with rains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My few clear quiet autumn days—I wish<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I could leave all, clearness and mistiness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sodden or goldenly crystal, all too still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, and I too rot with the leaves that fill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hollows in the woods; I am grown less<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Than human, listless, aimless as the green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Idiot fishes of my aquarium,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who loiter down their dim tunnels and come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look at me and drift away, nought seen<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or understood, but only glazedly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reflected. Upwards, upwards through the shadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the lush sponginess of deep-sea meadows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where hare-lipped monsters batten, let me ply<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Winged fins, bursting this matrix dark to find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jewels and movement, mintage of sunlight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scattered largely by the profuse wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gulfs of blue brightness, too deep for sight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Free, newly born, on roads of music and air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speeding and singing, I shall seek the place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all the shining threads of water race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drawn in green ropes and foamy meshes. There,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the red fretted ramparts of a tower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of coral rooted in the depths, shall break<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An endless sequence of joy and speed and power:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green shall shatter to foam; flake with white flake<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall create an instant’s shining constellation<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the blue; and all the air shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full of a million wings that swift and free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laugh in the sun, all power and strong elation.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, I shall seek that reef, which is beyond<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All isles however magically sleeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tideless seas, uncharted and unconned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save by blind eyes: beyond the laughter and weeping<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That brood like a cloud over the lands of men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Movement, passion of colour and pure wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Curving to cut like knives—these are the things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I search for:—passion beyond the ken<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of our foiled violences, and, more swift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than any blow which man aims against time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The invulnerable, motion that shall rift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All dimness with the lightning of a rhyme,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or note, or colour. And the body shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quick as the mind; and will shall find release<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From bondage to brute things; and joyously<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soul, will and body, in the strength of triune peace,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall live the perfect grace of power unwasted.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love consummate, marvellously blending<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passion and reverence in a single spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of quickening force, till now never yet tasted,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ever ceaselessly thirsted for, shall crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The new life with its ageless starry fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I go to seek that reef, far down, far down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the edge of everyday’s desire,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond the magical islands, where of old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I was content, dreaming, to give the lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To misery. They were all strong and bold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thither came; and shall I dare to try?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_FLOWERS" id="THE_FLOWERS"></a>THE FLOWERS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">D</span>AY after day,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">At spring’s return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch my flowers, how they burn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their lives away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The candle crocus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And daffodil gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink fire of the sunshine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quickly cold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the proud tulip—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How red he glows!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is quenched ere summer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can kindle the rose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Purple as the innermost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Core of a sinking flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in the leaves the violets smoulder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the dust whence they came.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Day after day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At spring’s return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch my flowers, how they burn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their lives away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Day after day....<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_ELMS" id="THE_ELMS"></a>THE ELMS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">F</span>INE as the dust of plumy fountains blowing<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Across the lanterns of a revelling night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tiny leaves of April’s earliest growing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Powder the trees—so vaporously light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They seem to float, billows of emerald foam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blown by the South on its bright airy tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeming less trees than things beatified,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come from the world of thought which was their home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For a while only. Rooted strong and fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soon will they lift towards the summer sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their mountain-mass of clotted greenery.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their immaterial season quickly past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They grow opaque, and therefore needs must die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since every earth to earth returns at last.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OUT_OF_THE_WINDOW" id="OUT_OF_THE_WINDOW"></a>OUT OF THE WINDOW.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span>N the middle of countries, far from hills and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Are the little places one passes by in trains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never stops at; where the skies extend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uninterrupted, and the level plains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stretch green and yellow and green without an end.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And behind the glass of their Grand Express<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Folk yawn away a province through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With nothing to think of, nothing to do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing even to look at—never a “view”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this damned wilderness.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I look out of the window and find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much to satisfy the mind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mark how the furrows, formed and wheeled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a motion orderly and staid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweep, as we pass, across the field<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a drilled army on parade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And here’s a market-garden, barred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With stripe on stripe of varied greens....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright potatoes, flower starred,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the opacous colour of beans.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each line deliberately swings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towards me, till I see a straight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green avenue to the heart of things,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glimpse of a sudden opened gate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Piercing the adverse walls of fate....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A moment only, and then, fast, fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gate swings to, the avenue closes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fate laughs, and once more interposes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its barriers.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The train has passed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SUMMER_STILLNESS" id="SUMMER_STILLNESS"></a>SUMMER STILLNESS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE stars are golden instants in the deep<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Flawless expanse of night: the moon is set:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The river sleeps, entranced, a smooth cool sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeming so motionless that I forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hollow booming bridges, where it slides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark with the sad looks that it bears along,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towards a sea whose unreturning tides<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ravish the sighted ships and the sailors’ song.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="INSPIRATION" id="INSPIRATION"></a>INSPIRATION.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">N</span>OONDAY upon the Alpine meadows<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Pours its avalanche of Light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blazing flowers: the very shadows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Translucent are and bright.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seems a glory that nought surpasses—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passion of angels in form and hue—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, lo! from the jewelled heaven of the grasses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaps a lightning of sudden blue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dimming the sun-drunk petals,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright even unto pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grasshopper flashes, settles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then is quenched again.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ANNIVERSARIES" id="ANNIVERSARIES"></a>ANNIVERSARIES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>NCE more the windless days are here,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Quiet of autumn, when the year<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Halts and looks backward and draws breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before it plunges into death.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silver of mist and gossamers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through-shine of noonday’s glassy gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale blue of skies, where nothing stirs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save one blanched leaf, weary and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That over and over slowly falls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the mute elm-trees, hanging on air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like tattered flags along the walls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of chapels deep in sunlit prayer.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once more.... Within its flawless glass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day reflects that other day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, under the bracken, on the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We who were lovers happily lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hardly spoke, or framed a thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That was not one with the calm hills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crystal sky. Ourselves were nought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our gusty passions, our burning wills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dissolved in boundlessness, and we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were almost bodiless, almost free.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind has shattered silver and gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night after night of sparkling cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Orion lifts his tangled feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From where the tossing branches beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a fine surf against the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So the trance ended, and we grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Restless, we knew not how or why;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there were sudden gusts that blew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our dreaming banners into storm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We wore the uncertain crumbling form<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a brown swirl of windy leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A phantom shape that stirs and heaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shuddering from earth, to fall again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a dry whisper of withered rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last, from the dead and shrunken days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We conjured spring, lighting the blaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of burnished tulips in the dark;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from black frost we struck a spark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of blue delight and fragrance new,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little world of flowers and dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winter for us was over and done:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The drought of fluttering leaves had grown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Emerald shining in the sun,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As light as glass, as firm as stone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Real once more: for we had passed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through passion into thought again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shaped our desires and made that fast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which was before a cloudy pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moulded the dimness, fixed, defined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a fair statue, strong and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twin bodies flaming into mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poised on the brink of ecstasy.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ITALY" id="ITALY"></a>ITALY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is a country in my mind,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Lovelier than a poet blind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could dream of, who had never known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This world of drought and dust and stone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all its ugliness: a place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full of an all but human grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose dells retain the printed form<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heavenly sleep, and seem yet warm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From some pure body newly risen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where matter is no more a prison,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But freedom for the soul to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its native beauty. For things glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There with an inward truth and are<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All fire and colour like a star.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in that land are domes and towers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hang as light and bright as flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the sky, and seem a birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rather of air than solid earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes I dream that walking there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the green shade, all unaware<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At a new turn of the golden glade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall see her, and as though afraid<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall halt a moment and almost fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For passing faintness, like a man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who feels the sudden spirit of Pan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brimming his narrow soul with all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The illimitable world. And she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turning her head, will let me see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first sharp dawn of her surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turning to welcome in her eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I shall come and take my lover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And looking on her re-discover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All her beauty:—her dark hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the little ears beneath it, where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roses of lucid shadow sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her brooding mouth, and in the deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wells of her eyes reflected stars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, the imperishable things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hands and lips as well as words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall speak! Oh movement of white wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh wheeling galaxies of birds!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_ALIEN" id="THE_ALIEN"></a>THE ALIEN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> PETAL drifted loose<br /></span> -<span class="ih">From a great magnolia bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your face hung in the gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Floating, white and close.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We seemed alone: but another<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bent o’er you with lips of flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unknown, without a name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hated, and yet my brother.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your one short moan of pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was an exorcising spell:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The devil flew back to hell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We were alone again.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_LITTLE_MEMORY" id="A_LITTLE_MEMORY"></a>A LITTLE MEMORY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HITE in the moonlight,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Wet with dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We have known the languor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of being two.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We have been weary<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As children are,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When over them, radiant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A stooping star,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bends their Good-Night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kissed and smiled:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each was mother,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each was child.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Child, from your forehead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I kissed the hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gently, ah, gently:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you were<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mistress and mother<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When on your breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lay so safely<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And could rest.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WAKING" id="WAKING"></a>WAKING.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">D</span>ARKNESS had stretched its colour,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Deep blue across the pane:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No cloud to make night duller,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No moon with its tarnish stain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But only here and there a star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One sharp point of frosty fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hanging infinitely far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In mockery of our life and death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all our small desire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now in this hour of waking<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From under brows of stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A new pale day is breaking<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the deep night is gone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sordid now, and mean and small<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The daylight world is seen again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With only the veils of mist that fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deaf and muffling over all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hide its ugliness and pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But to-day this dawn of meanness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shines in my eyes, as when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The new world’s brightness and cleanness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broke on the first of men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the light that shows the huddled things<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of this close-pressing earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shines also on your face and brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All its dear beauty back to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a new miracle of birth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see you asleep and unpassioned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White-faced in the dusk of your hair—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your beauty so fleetingly fashioned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That it filled me once with despair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To look on its exquisite transience<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think that our love and thought and laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Puff out with the death of our flickering sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While we pass ever on and away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towards some blank hereafter.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now I am happy, knowing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That swift time is our friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that our love’s passionate glowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though it turn ash in the end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is a rose of fire that must blossom its way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through temporal stuff, nor else could be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than a nothing. Into day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boundless spaces of night contract<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in your opening eyes I see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night born in day, in time eternity.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BY_THE_FIRE" id="BY_THE_FIRE"></a>BY THE FIRE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>E who are lovers sit by the fire,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Cradled warm ’twixt thought and will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit and drowse like sleeping dogs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the equipoise of all desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit and listen to the still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Small hiss and whisper of green logs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That burn away, that burn away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the sound of a far-off falling stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of threaded water blown to steam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grey ghost in the mountain world of grey.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vapours blue as distance rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the hissing logs that show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A glimpse of rosy heat below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And candles watch with tireless eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While we sit drowsing here. I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dimly, that there exists a world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That there is time perhaps, and space<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Other and wider than this place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where at the fireside drowsily curled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We hear the whisper and watch the flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burn blinkless and inscrutable.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then I know those other names<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That through my brain from cell to cell<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Echo—reverberated shout<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of waiters mournful along corridors:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But nobody carries the orders out,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the names (dear friends, your name and yours)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Evoke no sign. But here I sit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the wide hearth, and there are you:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is enough and only true.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world and the friends that lived in it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are shadows: you alone remain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Real in this drowsing room,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full of the whispers of distant rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And candles staring into the gloom.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VALEDICTORY" id="VALEDICTORY"></a>VALEDICTORY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> HAD remarked—how sharply one observes<br /></span> -<span class="ih">When life is disappearing round the curves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of yet another corner, out of sight!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I had remarked when it was “good luck” and “good night”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And “a good journey to you,” on her face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Certain enigmas penned in the hieroglyphs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that half frown and queer fixed smile and trace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of clouded thought in those brown eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Always so happily clear of hows and ifs—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My poor bleared mind!—and haunting whys.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There I stood, holding her farewell hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Pressing my life and soul and all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world to one good-bye, till, small<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And smaller pressed, why there I’d stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dead when they vanished with the sight of her).<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I saw that she had grown aware,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Queer puzzled face! of other things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the present and her own young speed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of yesterday and what new days might breed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Monstrously when the future brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A charger with your late-lamented head:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aware of other people’s lives and will,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aware, perhaps, aware even of me....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The joyous hope of it! But still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I pitied her; for it was sad to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A goddess shorn of her divinity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the midst of her speed she had made pause,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And doubts with all their threat of claws,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outstripped till now by her unconsciousness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had seized on her; she was proved mortal now.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Live, only live? For you were meant<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never to know a thought’s distress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a long glad astonishment<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the world’s beauty and your own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pity of you, goddess, grown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perplexed and mortal!”<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Yet ... yet ... can it be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she is aware, perhaps, even of me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And life recedes, recedes; the curve is bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My handkerchief flutters blankly in the air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the question rumbles in the void:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was she aware, was she after all aware?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PRIVATE_PROPERTY" id="PRIVATE_PROPERTY"></a>PRIVATE PROPERTY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>LL fly—yet who is misanthrope?—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The actual men and things that pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jostling, to wither as the grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So soon: and (be it heaven’s hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or poetry’s kaleidoscope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or love or wine, at feast, at mass)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each owns a paradise of glass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where never a yearning heliotrope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pursues the sun’s ascent or slope;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the sun dreams there, and no time is or was.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like fauns embossed in our domain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We look abroad, and our calm eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mark how the goatish gods of pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Revel; and if by grim surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They break into our paradise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Patient we build its beauty up again.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="REVELATION" id="REVELATION"></a>REVELATION.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>T your mouth, white and milk-warm sphinx,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I taste a strange apocalypse:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your subtle taper finger-tips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weave me new heavens, yet, methinks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know the wiles and each iynx<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That brought me passionate to your lips:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know you bare as laughter strips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your charnel beauty; yet my spirit drinks<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pure knowledge from this tainted well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now hears voices yet unheard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within it, and without it sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That world of which the poets tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their vision in the stammered word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those that wake from piercing ecstasies.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MINOAN_PORCELAIN" id="MINOAN_PORCELAIN"></a>MINOAN PORCELAIN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>ER eyes of bright unwinking glaze<br /></span> -<span class="ih">All imperturbable do not<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even make pretences to regard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The jutting absence of her stays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where many a Tyrian gallipot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Excites desire with spilth of nard.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bistred rims above the fard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of cheeks as red as bergamot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Attest that no shamefaced delays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will clog fulfilment, nor retard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full payment of the Cyprian’s praise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down to the last remorseful jot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail priestess of we know not what<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strange cult of Mycenean days!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_UNCERTAINTY_TO_A_LADY" id="IN_UNCERTAINTY_TO_A_LADY"></a>IN UNCERTAINTY TO A LADY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> AM not one of those who sip,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Like a quotidian bock,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cheap idylls from a languid lip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prepared to yawn or mock.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wait the indubitable word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The great Unconscious Cue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has it been spoken and unheard?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spoken, perhaps, by you?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CRAPULOUS_IMPRESSION" id="CRAPULOUS_IMPRESSION"></a>CRAPULOUS IMPRESSION.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>TILL life, still life ... the high-lights shine<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Hard and sharp on the bottles: the wine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stands firmly solid in the glasses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smooth yellow ice, through which there passes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lamp’s bright pencil of down-struck light.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fruits metallically gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Globey in their heaped-up bowl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there are faces against the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the outer room—faces that seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Part of this still, still life ... they’ve lost their soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And amongst these frozen faces you smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surprised, surprisingly, like a child:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And out of the frozen welter of sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your voice came quietly, quietly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“What about God?” you said. “I have found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much to be said for Totality.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All, I take it, is God: God’s all—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This bottle, for instance....” I recall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dimly, that you took God by the neck—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God-in-the-bottle—and pushed Him across:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I, without a moment’s loss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moved God-in-the-salt in front and shouted: “Check!”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="COMPLAINT_OF_A_POET_MANQUE" id="COMPLAINT_OF_A_POET_MANQUE"></a>COMPLAINT OF A POET MANQUÉ.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>E judge by appearance merely:<br /></span> -<span class="ih">If I can’t think strangely, I can at least look queerly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I grew the hair so long on my head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That my mother wouldn’t know me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till a woman in a night-club said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I was passing by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Hullo, here comes Salome.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I looked in the dirty gilt-edged glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, oh Salome! there I was—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Positively jewelled, half a vampire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the soul in my eyes hanging dizzily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the gatherer of proverbial samphire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the brink of the crag of sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looking down from perilous eminence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into a gulf of windy night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there’s straw in my tempestuous hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’m not a poet: but never despair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll madly live the poems I shall never write.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SOCIAL_AMENITIES" id="SOCIAL_AMENITIES"></a>SOCIAL AMENITIES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> AM getting on well with this anecdote,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">When suddenly I recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The many times I have told it of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the worked-up phrases, and the dying fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of voice, well timed in the crisis, the note<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mock-heroic ingeniously struck—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whole thing sticks in my throat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my face all tingles and pricks with shame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For myself and my hearers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These are the social pleasures, my God!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I finish the story triumphantly all the same.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TOPIARY" id="TOPIARY"></a>TOPIARY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">F</span>AILING sometimes to understand<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Why there are folk whose flesh should seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like carrion puffed with noisome steam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fly-blown to the eye that looks on it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fly-blown to the touch of a hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why there are men without any legs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whizzing along on little trollies<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With long long arms like apes’:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Failing to see why God the Topiarist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should train and carve and twist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men’s bodies into such fantastic shapes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, failing to see the point of it all, I sometimes wish<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I were a fabulous thing in a fool’s mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, at the ocean bottom, in a world that is deaf and blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Very remote and happy, a great goggling fish.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ON_THE_BUS" id="ON_THE_BUS"></a>ON THE ’BUS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>ITTING on the top of the ’bus,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I bite my pipe and look at the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over my shoulder the smoke streams out<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my life with it.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Conservation of energy,” you say.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I burn, I tell you, I burn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the smoke of me streams out<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a vanishing skein of grey.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crash and bump ... my poor bruised body!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am a harp of twittering strings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An elegant instrument, but infinitely second-hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if I have not got phthisis it is only an accident.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Droll phenomena!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="POINTS_AND_LINES" id="POINTS_AND_LINES"></a>POINTS AND LINES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span>NSTANTS in the quiet, small sharp stars,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Pierce my spirit with a thrust whose speed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Baffles even the grasp of time.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh that I might reflect them<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As swiftly, as keenly as they shine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I am a pool of waters, summer-still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the stars are mirrored across me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those stabbing points of the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turned to a thread of shaken silver,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A long fine thread.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PANIC" id="PANIC"></a>PANIC.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE eyes of the portraits on the wall<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Look at me, follow me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stare incessantly:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I take it their glance means nothing at all?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Clearly, oh clearly! Nothing at all....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out in the gardens by the lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sleeping peacocks suddenly wake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out in the gardens, moonlit and forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each of them sounds his mournful horn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrill peals that waver and crack and break.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What can have made the peacocks wake?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="STANZAS" id="STANZAS"></a>STANZAS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HOUGHT is an unseen net wherein our mind<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Is taken and vainly struggles to be free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words, that should loose our spirit, do but bind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New fetters on our hoped-for liberty:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And action bears us onward like a stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past fabulous shores, scarce seen in our swift course;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glorious—and yet its headlong currents seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But backwaters of some diviner force.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are slow curves, more subtle far than thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That stoop to carry the grace of a girl’s breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hanging flowers, so exquisitely wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In airy metal, that they seem possessed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of souls; and there are distant hills that lift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shoulder of a god towards the light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And arrowy trees, sudden and sharp and swift,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Piercing the spirit deeply with delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would I might make these miracles my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a pure angel, thinking colour and form;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hardening to rage in a flame of chiselled stone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spilling my love like sunlight, golden and warm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On noonday flowers; speaking the song of birds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the branches; whispering the fall of rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond all thought, past action and past words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would live in beauty, free from self and pain.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="POEM" id="POEM"></a>POEM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">B</span>OOKS and a coloured skein of thoughts were mine;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And magic words lay ripening in my soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till their much-whispered music turned a wine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose subtlest power was all in my control.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These things were mine, and they were real for me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As lips and darling eyes and a warm breast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I could love a phrase, a melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a fair woman, worshipped and possessed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I scorned all fire that outward of the eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could kindle passion; scorned, yet was afraid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Feared, and yet envied those more deeply wise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who saw the bright earth beckon and obeyed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But a time came when, turning full of hate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weariness from my remembered themes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wished my poet’s pipe could modulate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty more palpable than words and dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All loveliness with which an act informs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dim uncertain chaos of desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is mine to day; it touches me, it warms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Body and spirit with its outward fire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am mine no more: I have become a part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that great earth that draws a breath and stirs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To meet the spring. But I could wish my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were still a winter of frosty gossamers.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SCENES_OF_THE_MIND" id="SCENES_OF_THE_MIND"></a>SCENES OF THE MIND.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> HAVE run where festival was loud<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With drum and brass among the crowd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of panic revellers, whose cries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Affront the quiet of the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose dancing lights contract the deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Infinity of night and sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a narrow turmoil of troubled fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I have found my heart’s desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In beechen caverns that autumn fills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the blue shadowiness of distant hills;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose luminous grey pillars bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stooping sky: calm is the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any sound is heard to mar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That crystal silence—as from far,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far off a man may see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The busy world all utterly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hushed as an old memorial scene.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long evenings I have sat and been<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strangely content, while in my hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I held a wealth of coloured strands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shimmering plaits of silk and skeins<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of soft bright wool. Each colour drains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New life at the lamp’s round pool of gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each sinks again when I withhold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The quickening radiance, to a wan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shadowy oblivion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what it was. And in my mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty or sudden love has shined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wakened colour in what was dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turned to gold the sullen lead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mean desires and everyday’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor thoughts and customary ways.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes in lands where mountains throw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their silent spell on all below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drawing a magic circle wide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About their feet on every side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Robbed of all speech and thought and act,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have seen God in the cataract.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In falling water and in flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never at rest, yet still the same,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God shows himself. And I have known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swift fire frozen into stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And water frozen changelessly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the death of gems. And I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long sitting by the thunderous mill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have seen the headlong wheel made still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the silence that ensued<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have known the endless solitude<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of being dead and utterly nought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inhabitant of mine own thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I look abroad, and all I see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is my creation, made for me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along my thread of life are pearled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moments that make up the world.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LAPRES-MIDI_DUN_FAUNE" id="LAPRES-MIDI_DUN_FAUNE"></a>L’APRÈS-MIDI D’UN FAUNE.<br /><br /> -<small>(From the French of Stéphane Mallarmé.)</small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> WOULD immortalize these nymphs; so bright<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Their sunlit colouring, so airy light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It floats like drowsy down. Loved I a dream?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My doubts, born of oblivious darkness, seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A subtle tracery of branches grown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tree’s true self—proving that I have known,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinking it love, the blushing of a rose.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But think. These nymphs, their loveliness ... suppose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They bodied forth your senses’ fabulous thirst?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Illusion! which the blue eyes of the first,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As cold and chaste as is the weeping spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beget: the other, sighing, passioning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is she the wind, warm in your fleece at noon?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No; through this quiet, when a weary swoon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crushes and chokes the latest faint essay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of morning, cool against the encroaching day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no murmuring water, save the gush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of my clear fluted notes; and in the hush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blows never a wind, save that which through my reed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Puffs out before the rain of notes can speed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the air, with that calm breath of art<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That mounts the unwrinkled zenith visibly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where inspiration seeks its native sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You fringes of a calm Sicilian lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun’s own mirror which I love to take,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silent beneath your starry flowers, tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>How here I cut the hollow rushes, well</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Tamed by my skill, when on the glaucous gold</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of distant lawns about their fountain cold</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>A living whiteness stirs like a lazy wave;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And at the first slow notes my panpipes gave</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>These flocking swans, these naiads, rather, fly</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Or dive</i>. Noon burns inert and tawny dry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor marks how clean that Hymen slipped away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From me who seek in song the real A.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wake, then, to the first ardour and the sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O lonely faun, of the old fierce white light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With, lilies, one of you for innocence.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Other than their lips’ delicate pretence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light caress that quiets treacherous lovers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My breast, I know not how to tell, discovers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bitten print of some immortal’s kiss.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hush! a mystery so great as this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dare not tell, save to my double reed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, sharer of my every joy and need,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreams down its cadenced monologues that we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Falsely confuse the beauties that we see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the bright palpable shapes our song creates:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My flute, as loud as passion modulates,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Purges the common dream of flank and breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seen through closed eyes and inwardly caressed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of every empty and monotonous line.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bloom then, O Syrinx, in thy flight malign,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A reed once more beside our trysting-lake.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proud of my music, let me often make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song of goddesses and see their rape<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Profanely done on many a painted shape.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So when the grape’s transparent juice I drain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I quell regret for pleasures past and feign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A new real grape. For holding towards the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The empty skin, I blow it tight and lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dream-drunk till evening, eyeing it.<br /></span> -<span class="i15">Tell o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remembered joys and plump the grape once more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Between the reeds I saw their bodies gleam</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Who cool no mortal fever in the stream</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Crying to the woods the rage of their desire:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And their bright hair went down in jewelled fire</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Where crystal broke and dazzled shudderingly.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I check my swift pursuit: for see where lie,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Bruised, being twins in love, by languor sweet,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Two sleeping girls, clasped at my very feet.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I seize and run with them, nor part the pair,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Breaking this covert of frail petals, where</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Roses drink scent of the sun and our light play</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>’Mid tumbled flowers shall match the death of day.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love that virginal fury—ah, the wild<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrill when a maiden body shrinks, defiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shuddering like arctic light, from lips that sear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its nakedness ... the flesh in secret fear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Contagiously through my linked pair it flies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where innocence in either, struggling, dies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wet with fond tears or some less piteous dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Gay in the conquest of these fears, I grew</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>So rash that I must needs the sheaf divide</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of ruffled kisses heaven itself had tied.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For as I leaned to stifle in the hair</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of one my passionate laughter (taking care</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With a stretched finger, that her innocence</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Might stain with her companion’s kindling sense</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To touch the younger little one, who lay</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Child-like unblushing) my ungrateful prey</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Slips from me, freed by passion’s sudden death</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nor heeds the frenzy of my sobbing breath.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let it pass! others of their hair shall twist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rope to drag me to those joys I missed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See how the ripe pomegranates bursting red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To quench the thirst of the mumbling bees have bled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So too our blood, kindled by some chance fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flows for the swarming legions of desire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At evening, when the woodland green turns gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ashen grey, ’mid the quenched leaves, behold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red Etna glows, by Venus visited,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walking the lava with her snowy tread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whene’er the flames in thunderous slumber die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hold the goddess!<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Ah, sure penalty!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the unthinking soul and body swoon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last beneath the heavy hush of noon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgetful let me lie where summer’s drouth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sifts fine the sand and then with gaping mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dream planet-struck by the grape’s round wine-red star.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nymphs, I shall see the shade that now you are.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MOLE" id="MOLE"></a>MOLE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>UNNELLED in solid blackness creeps<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The old mole-soul, and wakes or sleeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He knows not which, but tunnels on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through ages of oblivion;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until at last the long constraint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of each hand-wall is lost, and faint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes daylight creeping from afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mole-work grows crepuscular.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tunnel meets air and bursts; mole sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men as strange as walking trees?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And far horizons smoking blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chasing clouds for ever new;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green hills, like lighted lamps aglow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or quenched beneath the cloud-shadow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quenching and blazing turn by turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring’s great green signals fitfully burn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mole travels on, but finds the steering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A harder task of pioneering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than when he thridded through the strait<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind catacombs that ancient fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had carved for him. Stupid and dumb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blind and touchless he had come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A way without a turn; but here,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the sky, the passenger<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chooses his own best way; and mole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Distracted wanders, yet his hole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Regrets not much wherein he crept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But runs, a joyous nympholept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This way and that, by all made mad—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">River nymph and oread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ocean’s daughters and Lorelei,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Combing the silken mystery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glaucous gold of her rivery tresses—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each haunts the traveller, each possesses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The drunken wavering soul awhile;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then with a phantom’s cock-crow smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mocks craving with sheer vanishment.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mole-eyes grow hawk’s: knowledge is lent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In grudging driblets that pay high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unconscionable usury.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To unrelenting life. Mole learns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To travel more secure; the turns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of his long way less puzzling seem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all those magic forms that gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In airy invitation cheat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Less often than they did of old.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The earth slopes upward, fold by fold<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of quiet hills that meet the gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Serenity of western skies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the world’s edge with clear eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our mole transcendent sees his way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tunnelled in light: he must obey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Necessity again and thrid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close catacombs as erst he did,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fate’s tunnellings, himself must bore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the sunset’s inmost core.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The guiding walls to each-hand shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Luminous and crystalline;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mole shall tunnel on and on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till night let fall oblivion.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TWO_REALITIES" id="TWO_REALITIES"></a>TWO REALITIES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> WAGGON passed with scarlet wheels<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And a yellow body, shining new.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Splendid!” said I. “How fine it feels<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be alive, when beauty peels<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The grimy husk from life.” And you<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Said, “Splendid!” and I thought you’d seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That waggon blazing down the street;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I looked and saw that your gaze had been<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a child that was kicking an obscene<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brown ordure with his feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our souls are elephants, thought I,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remote behind a prisoning grill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With trunks thrust out to peer and pry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pounce upon reality;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And each at his own sweet will<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Seizes the bun that he likes best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And passes over all the rest.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="QUOTIDIAN_VISION" id="QUOTIDIAN_VISION"></a>QUOTIDIAN VISION.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is a sadness in the street,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And sullenly the folk I meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Droop their heads as they walk along,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without a smile, without a song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mist of cold and muffling grey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Falls, fold by fold, on another day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dies unwept. But suddenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under a tunnelled arch I see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On flank and haunch the chestnut gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of horses in a lamplit steam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dead world moves for me once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With beauty for its living core.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_MIRROR" id="THE_MIRROR"></a>THE MIRROR.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>LOW-moving moonlight once did pass<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Across the dreaming looking-glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, sunk inviolably deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old secrets unforgotten sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of beauties unforgettable.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But dusty cobwebs are woven now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across that mirror, which of old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw fingers drawing back the gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From an untroubled brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the depths are blinded to the moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their secrets forgotten, for ever untold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VARIATIONS_ON_A_THEME_OF_LAFORGUE" id="VARIATIONS_ON_A_THEME_OF_LAFORGUE"></a>VARIATIONS ON A THEME OF LAFORGUE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">Y</span>OUTH as it opens out discloses<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The sinister metempsychosis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of lilies dead and turned to roses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red as an angry dawn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lilies, remember, are grave-side flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While slow bright rose-leaves sail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adrift on the music of happiest hours;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And those lilies, cold and pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hide fiery roses beneath the lawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the young bride’s parting veil.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PHILOSOPHY" id="PHILOSOPHY"></a>PHILOSOPHY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">“G</span>OD needs no christening,”<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Pantheist mutters,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Love opens shutters<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On heaven’s glistening,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flesh, key-hole listening,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hear what God utters”....<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yes, but God stutters.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PHILOCLEA_IN_THE_FOREST" id="PHILOCLEA_IN_THE_FOREST"></a>PHILOCLEA IN THE FOREST.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">’T</span>WAS I that leaned to Amoret<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With: “What if the briars have tangled Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, lost in the wood-ways, he quite forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How plaintive in cities at midnight sounds the chime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of bells slow-dying from discord to the hush whence they rose and met?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“And in the forest we shall live free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Free from the bondage that Time has made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hedge our soul from its liberty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shall not fear what is mighty, and unafraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall look wide-eyed at beauty, nor shrink from its majesty.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Amoret answered me again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“We are lost in the forest, you and I;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lost, lost, not free, though no bonds restrain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For no spire rises for comfort, no landmark in the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the long glades as they curve from sight are dark with a nameless pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Time creates what he devours,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music that sweetly dreams itself away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frail-swung leaves of autumn and the scent of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the beauty of that poised moment, when the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hangs ’twixt the quiet of darkness and the mirth of the sunlit hours.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">M</span>OTTLED and grey and brown they pass,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The wood-moths, wheeling, fluttering;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we chase and they vanish; and in the grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are starry flowers, and the birds sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faint broken songs of the dying spring.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And on the beech-hole, smooth and grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some lover of an older day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has carved in time-blurred lettering<br /></span> -<span class="i4">One world only:—“Alas.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">L</span>UTES, I forbid you! You must never play,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">When shimmeringly, glimpse by glimpse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seen through the leaves, the silken figures sway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In measured dance. Never at shut of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Time perversely loitering limps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through endless twilights, should your strings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whisper of light remembered things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That happened long ago and far away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lutes, I forbid you! You must never play....<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And you, pale marble statues, far descried<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where vistas open suddenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bid you shew yourselves no more, but hide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your loveliness, lest too much glorified<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By western radiance slantingly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shot down the glade, you turn from stone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To living gods, immortal grown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, ageless, mock my beauty’s fleeting pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You pale, relentless statues, far descried....<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BOOKS_AND_THOUGHTS" id="BOOKS_AND_THOUGHTS"></a>BOOKS AND THOUGHTS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>LD ghosts that death forgot to ferry<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Across the Lethe of the years—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These are my friends, and at their tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I weep and with their mirth am merry.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a high tower, whose battlements<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me all heaven at a glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lie long summer nights in trance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drowsed by the murmurs and the scents<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rise from earth, while the sky above me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Merges its peace with my soul’s peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep meeting deep. No stir can move me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nought break the quiet of my release:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In vain the windy sunlight raves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the hush and gloom of polar caves.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_HIGHER_SENSUALISM" id="THE_HIGHER_SENSUALISM"></a>THE HIGHER SENSUALISM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE’S a church by a lake in Italy<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Stands white on a hill against the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a path of immemorial cobbles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leads up and up, where the pilgrim hobbles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past a score or so of neat reposories,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where you stop and breathe and tell your rosaries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the shrined terra-cotta mannikins,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That expound with the liveliest quirks and grins<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Known texts of Scripture. But no long stay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should the pilgrim make upon his way;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as means to the end these shrines stand here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To guide to something holier,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The church on the hill top.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Your heaven’s so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a path leading up to it past a row<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of votary Priapulids;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At each you pause and tell your beads<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the quintuple strings of sense:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then on, to face Heaven’s eminence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New stimulated, new inspired.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FORMAL_VERSES" id="FORMAL_VERSES"></a>FORMAL VERSES.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">M</span>OTHER of all my future memories,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Mistress of my new life, which but to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Began, when I beheld, deep in your eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own love mirrored and the warm surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the first kiss swept both our souls away,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your love has freed me; for I was oppressed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By my own devil, whose unwholesome breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tarnished my youth, leaving to me at best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age lacking comfort of a soul at rest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And weariness beyond the hope of death.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>H, those were days of silent happiness!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I never spoke, and had no need to speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While on the windy down-land, cheek by cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slow-driven sun beheld us. Each caress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had oratory for its own defence;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I kissed or felt her fingers press,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I envied not Demosthenes his Greek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor Tully for his Latin eloquence.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PERILS_OF_THE_SMALL_HOURS" id="PERILS_OF_THE_SMALL_HOURS"></a>PERILS OF THE SMALL HOURS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN life burns low as the fire in the grate<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And all the evening’s books are read,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sit alone, save for the dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lovers I have grown to hate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But all at once the narrow gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hatred and despair expands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tenderness: thought stretches hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To welcome to the midnight room<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Another presence:—a memory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of how last year in the sunlit field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughing, you suddenly revealed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty in immortality.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For so it is; a gesture strips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life bare of all its make-believe.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All unprepared we may receive<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our casual apocalypse.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sheer beauty, then you seemed to stir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unbodied soul; soul sleeps to night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love comes, dimming spirit’s sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When body plays interpreter.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RETURN_TO_AN_OLD_HOME" id="RETURN_TO_AN_OLD_HOME"></a>RETURN TO AN OLD HOME.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span>N this wood—how the hazels have grown!—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I left a treasure all my own<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of childish kisses and laughter and pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left, till I might come back again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To take from the familiar earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hoarded secret and count its worth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the spider-work of the years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the time-spun gossamers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dewed with each succeeding spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the piled up leaves the Autumns fling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the sweet corruption of death on death....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the sudden stir of my spirit’s breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All scattered. New and fair and bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As ever it was, before my sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The treasure lay, and nothing missed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So having handled all and kissed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I put them back, adding one new<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And precious memory of you.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fint"><i>Printed at The Vincent Works, Oxford.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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