diff options
Diffstat (limited to '77817-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 77817-0.txt | 1277 |
1 files changed, 1277 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/77817-0.txt b/77817-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1c30f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/77817-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1277 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77817 *** + + + + + ESCAPE + AND FANTASY + + + + + [Illustration] + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS + ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO + + MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED + LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA + MELBOURNE + + THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. + TORONTO + + + + + ESCAPE + AND FANTASY + + Poems + + BY + GEORGE ROSTREVOR + + New York + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + 1919 + _All rights reserved_ + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1919, + BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. + + Set up and printed from type. Published February, 1919. + + + Norwood Press + J.S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. + Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + + TO + MARION + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + THE CHANGE 9 + + ORPHEUS 11 + + THE RIVER 16 + + MOMENTS 17 + + THOUGHTS 19 + + TIDAL, KING OF NATIONS 20 + + THE VOICE (AN ECSTASY) 23 + + SPRING RAIN IN LONDON 35 + + LOTUS EATERS 36 + + THE GREY BIRD 37 + + ELYSIUM 40 + + ETERNITY 41 + + THE SEA-MAID 43 + + THE CELL 47 + + THE ASCETICS 48 + + CONSPIRACIES 50 + + A RHYME OF FAITH 52 + + THE SHINING POND 53 + + THE HAUNTED STREET 56 + + + + +THE CHANGE + + + All the daytime I belong + To the solemn-coated throng + Who with grave, stupendous looks + Study cash and ledger books, + Or who go, + Staid and slow, + On sad business to and fro. + + But when twilight comes, I range + Over topics new and strange, + Wasting all my leisure hours + On fay birds and phantom flowers, + Or I sing + Some mad fling + Through the impish evening. + + Yes, and when the moon goes by + Rocking in a foamy sky, + Then I swear I’m more akin + To the laughing Cherubin + Than to those grave men who go, + To and fro, to and fro, + On sad business to and fro. + + + + +ORPHEUS + + + Hush, thou noisy nightingale, + Let thy sorrowful song be mute. + Orpheus, with his lute, + Sings to the vale. + + Weather-smitten, travel-worn, + Fever-eyed and frail is he, + Orpheus, Orpheus, the forlorn + Of Eurydice. + + Trembling like a crazy shadow + When a gust is in the trees, + Phantom-like he flees + Over mere and meadow. + + Twinkle on the lute his fingers. + Hark! a ghostly music swings, + Echoes, falls, echoes, lingers, + Orpheus sings:-- + + To-day, to-morrow, + There is sorrow, + But when Night, + Holy Night, + Putteth on + Her sober gown, + Then is there delight. + + Take thy fill + Of rest, rest, + O separate will,-- + Wayward, wayward, wayward will + Of each wild creature, take thy rest + Lulled on the breast + Of the cool dark hill. + + Very deep, + O baffled will, + Be thy sleep + On the sombre hill. + But heart of the world, awake, awake, + For Orpheus’ sake! + + Hungry lion, do not howl! + Supple tiger tawny-barred, + Chattering monkey, chequered snake, + Privy wolf and spotted pard, + Creatures that do use to prowl + Through the forest, let you lie,-- + Not a sound, not a cry,-- + Soothèd by my lullaby. + + Cease, unquiet owl, to moan, + Folded keep thy stealthy wings; + Nightjar, stay thy monotone, + Listen, listen, Orpheus sings. + Shut you every wakeful eye + Soothèd by my lullaby. + + Very deep + Be thy sleep, + Cruel, cruel, cruel will, + Very deep + Be thy sleep + On the sombre hill. + + But, O heart, awake, awake, + Wake and leap for Orpheus’ sake! + Heart of all the world, awake + For Orpheus’ sake! + + Cloudy waters of the sky + Flow no longer; listening stars + Stop their silver-wheelèd cars, + Conquered by my lullaby. + Each one, smitten by my spell, + Holds him like a sentinel. + + Beauty on the brow of Night + So complete is that despair, + Gazing like a statue there, + Changes to a grave delight. + Never hath the swart Night been + So unparalleled a queen. + + Very deep + Is thy sleep, + Wayward, wayward, wayward will, + Very deep + Is thy sleep + On the sombre hill. + But the heart, the heart is awake, + Beating high for Orpheus’ sake, + Everywhere awake, awake, + For Orpheus’ sake. + + + + +THE RIVER + + + Why, O River, on thy breast, + Why do the trees so sweetly rest? + + Why so royal does the black barge sail + On thy water smooth and pale? + + Why does the rough-tongued river-man sing + Like a minstrel to a king? + + Why, O quiet River, do I + See in thee so clear a sky? + + + + +MOMENTS + + + I’ve seen the rich dark earth fling up + Cuckoo-flower and buttercup, + I’ve heard the meadows burst with song + Of thrush and blackbird all day long, + I’ve seen the burning sun go by + With a pomp of cloud in the roofless sky, + I’ve heard the wind whistle and shout + And toss the tallest oaks about, + I’ve seen, I’ve heard the flash and the call + Of the distant thundering waterfall ... + + My soul turns back to me again + At twilight. All the day like rain + It has scattered itself in drops and flashes + And moments of colour, and sudden splashes, + Has flown and mixed with the single notes + Quick-pouring from the song-birds’ throats, + Losing itself and multiplying, + Living a thousand lives and dying. + + My busy eyes at the fall of day + I close: I shut the world away. + Now no star may pierce the gloom + Of my fragile-curtained room, + But flowers more wonderful and trees more tall + Bloom in the dark there; sweet dews fall; + Silence cries with the ghost of sound; + Flashes of colour and tune are found + Linked in one. I hear, I hear + The voice of Spring cry out to me there, + And the voice of Spring is the voice of Love + Crying below, around, above, + While--in the dark of my body--his eyes + Burn more deep than star-flushed skies. + + + + +THOUGHTS + + + If in a giant brain + The thoughts of the world could lie, + How darkly would each cell be lit, + What phantoms pale would people it, + Flocking, flocking by: + Thoughts of things that jerk or leap, + Things that flit in the sky or creep + In the atomy dust, or swarm in the deep, + Leviathan or fly! + + Fugitive, feeble, vain-- + The giant would fall asleep, + And they in millions would be gone + For ever to oblivion, + Far down deep: + Thought of toad and thought of lark, + Crab and crocodile and shark, + Armadillo, aard-vark, + Terrapin and sheep. + + + + +TIDAL, KING OF NATIONS + + ... _and Tidal, king of nations_-- + + GENESIS xiv + + + Tidal, King of Nations, + Sent a proclamation forth + To the tribes of the South + And the clans of the North; + + His word flew and travelled + Quick as a gathering flame, + The far-off people shook + At the rumour of his name. + + Tidal, King of Nations, + Thy name is for thee, + Shadowy and vast, + An immortality. + + * * * * * + + Tidal, King of Nations-- + Lo, at the sound + Terrible armies leap + Crying from the ground. + + High in the midst, on + A white throne is He, + Set as a firm rock + In the surge of the sea. + + Clear as the moon his brow is, + But in his secret eyes + Shadow within shadow dark + The future lies. + + In his hand glitters + The phantom of a sword; + The warring peoples cry + And hail him for lord: + + But within his dark eyes + Where future time grows + Are gentleness, mercy, + Peace and repose. + + The nations bow and tremble, + They do not understand, + They only see the gleam + Of the wrath in his hand. + + * * * * * + + Tidal, King of Nations, + Thy name is for thee,-- + Oh, far-off brotherhood!-- + An immortality. + + + + +THE VOICE + +(AN ECSTASY) + + +I + +_The Prelude_ + + I saw the regal sun look down + And crown the earth with a golden crown: + I saw his bright embraces fill + The valley and assail the hill; + I saw him kiss the hill I knew + Where matted gorse and heather grew. + + I heard a child go whistling by + To school--I heard the ploughmen cry + To their horses--in the yard + A bantam-cock was crowing hard-- + A pensive and complacent hen + Began to drawl .. drawl ... drawl .... and then + A puppy yapping with delight + Chased and hustled her in flight. + + I took me to a tangled lane + Hoping for quietness--in vain; + I only in the world was mute. + The blackbird laughed upon his flute, + And starlings talked in wayward wise + On creaking boughs, and up the skies + The trembling, quick, delirious lark + Sang until my soul was dark. + + So morning, noon and all day long + The world was multiplied with song + And I, distracted, could not sing; + At length, toward the evening, + I climbed the little hill I knew + Where matted gorse and heather grew. + + Slowly, + Slowly, + Slowly at last the evening fell; + Slowly beneath her drowsy spell + The teeming brain of the world was quieted: + The noise of day was dead. + + Now might a single human thought + Flying out, keen-wrought, + Usurp dominion of the sky, and fill + The void of the world with a chant of love, and move it to one will. + + So from my ingathered soul + Softly sang I to my Love-- + Softly, yet I heard the whole + Shining world, beneath, above, + Echo me and ring and ring + Through the quiet evening. + + First I sang how she doth dwell + Carven so within my mind + That her tokens I do spell + And her vital beauty find + Paining me, oh everywhere + Phantom-bright upon the air. + + Morning winds with liquid tune + Her abounding joy express; + Azure-folded deeps of June + Tell me of her tenderness; + Laughingly the waterbrooks + Mirror her untainted looks. + + Trembling shadows wake in me + Sense of the outflowing tide + Of her hidden rarity, + Till I dream her at my side,-- + And her prayed-for kisses rain + Through and through me, sharp with pain. + + Hushed the melody I sang, + Earth around me rang and rang. + + +II + +_The Ecstasy_ + + Quick a current of delight + Through my body laughed and leapt, + Took the dazzle from my sight, + From the earth my senses swept; + Through the ringing air I sped, + Loosened as from bars of lead. + + And my singing soul became + Infinite; the sea, the sky, + Were my flesh, the mighty frame + Of the Universe was I; + Mystic voices in me stirred, + And I cried, and I heard. + + Crying how my Lady shone + Fairer than the dawn upon + Snowy-crested Himalay; + How she fed with golden fire + Red lamps of the Earth’s desire, + White lamps of the Milky Way. + + Crying how, if she must die, + Sudden from the naked sky + Star and sun must fade and fall, + And from every naked tree + Foliage drop, and her death be + Earth’s and Heaven’s funeral. + + So did I her glory sing + Through the quiet evening. + Every note and echo fell + Crystal as a chiming bell, + Strong and singular of beat, + Gay and simple, clear and sweet, + Gentle, yet with even sound + Calling to the southern bound + Of the world, and crying forth + Undiminished to the north. + + And in those harmonious skies + All tempestuous energies + To such equipoise were wrought + Never a jarring atom fought. + There was neither jolt nor strain, + Shock, nor weight, nor clash, nor pain, + But I saw great Saturn float + Buoyant as a wandering mote + On a sunbeam, or like down + Of thistle indolently blown. + + And I felt the deepening night + Saturated so with light + That the very darkness seemed + Light that more intensely dreamed; + And the light was filled with sense + Of Being and Omnipotence,-- + Gathered now at instant will + To a single point, until + I was conscious of each bird, + Beast or creeping thing that stirred + In a lane or covert. Then + Consciousness would flow again + Evenly, and life would be + From all separation free: + Only my Belovèd shone,-- + She and I, complete, alone. + + And looking down with happy eyes + From my kingdom of the skies, + I saw my lady stoop and give + Glorious life for the world to live. + + I saw how from the lullèd earth + Meeting her gaze the darkness fell + And light celestial sprang to birth, + And flowers changed the path of hell; + And to her lips she lifted up + Th’ essential world, created new, + And drank and drained the sacred cup + As sunfire drinks the morning dew. + + From meadows of the noble dead, + From fields where baffled and forlorn + The conqueror lays his uncrowned head, + The very life of peace was born: + And in my lady’s heart of love + So soft, so dim that peace was felt + As when dusk enters a deep grove + Where, all day long, shadows have dwelt. + + From lives of sick men, clean with pain, + She drew a virtue like the rare + Odour of windflowers washed with rain + Afloat upon the sensitive air; + And sick men felt in their hot room + The cooling garden-breezes blow, + And heaven pierce the fading gloom + With javelins of silver snow. + + I saw the sere ungarnished tree + A treasury of green unlock, + And pastures crown the foaming sea, + And flame enliven the dull rock; + And frozen rivers were unsealed, + And waters through the desert ran, + And like a meteor shone revealed + The mystic in the common man; + + Whose soul enchanted, winged with dream + And eyed with splendour, thrust her course + Rapid upon the darkling stream, + Sped by her own unconscious force,-- + Content at last, content to ride + Free from the well-loved daily bond + Of time and place, on the full tide + Of Oceans unexplored beyond. + + And there was song from every land, + In every tongue, in every key, + And every tiny lyric spanned + The chasms of infinity: + Yet I the Lover sang alone + To my Belovèd: all the throng + Of praising voices made but one + Hushed undercurrent of my song: + + “O thou Belovèd of the Lover, thou, + Health-giver, Purifier, Strengthener, + Fountain, and spring, and river of the Sun. + O thou Belovèd of the Lover, strong + As morning or the full inflowing tide, + Calm as the evening sky above a lake. + Thou who art one and changeless, O Belovèd, + O thou Belovèd who art calm and strong. + O calm Belovèd, where all passion lies + Too deep to stir, and strong, O thou Belovèd + In frailty that shatters force. O Love! + Belovèd of the Lover, everlasting, + Beyond all Death, all Change, O Love Belovèd, + Be with the Lover always, calm and strong.” + + +III + +_The Return_ + + So did I in Heaven sing, + And the lilac evening + Deeper, deeper, deeper shone. + Fairer yet and yet more fair + Burned my kingdom of the air. + + So I sang--or _did_ I sing? + I, who still was listening. + So I sang--yet _was_ it mine, + The Song, the Singing Voice divine? + + Sudden, in a fit of mirth, + I that was so mighty grown + Bent me low to see the Earth + And the little hill I knew + Where the gorse and heather grew. + + Then I cried and Heaven cried + Loud with laughter, for I spied + How my puny body lay + In a coat of sombre grey + Six foot long amid the heather + With its two arms locked together, + With its pinpoint eyes that burned + Motionless and solemn turned + In a brave unconscious stare + On the diamonded air. + + Still I looked, and in a while + Saw the growing of a smile + On the lips and then a yawn, + Then a difficult breath long-drawn-- + One deep breath, and then an arm + Stretched out, and, as if alarm + Seized it, the whole body shook. + + Then could I no longer look, + For I felt my limbs and knew + I was narrowed down again + To my body, and I grew + Quiet, fearing the disdain + Of the stars who looked on me + Fallen from their company. + + But I heard no sound of scorn, + Only a far echo borne + Of the Voice whose singing moves + And quickens every thing that loves. + + + + +SPRING RAIN IN LONDON + + + Hardly awake, I saw in the street + The shining raindrops pelt; + And lulled by their quick monotonous beat + I let my languid eyes half close. I felt + + The tinkle of a rivulet + Bubbling lazily down a hill, + Where the turf was a couch for dark violet + And flame-eyed tormentil. + + I saw the sun leaping through a cloud-- + Apollo shooting at the bladed corn-- + And the lark, a dizzy fanatic, hailing loud + The golden god reborn. + + + + +LOTUS EATERS + + + I grew so quiet as I walked along, + My mind so much a mirror to the wood, + So passively open to the colour and song + And the whole company of solitude + + That past time fell from me, and time to come + No longer drew me with its magnet power: + My whole self lazily to a bee’s low hum + Listened, and watched him fumble at a flower. + + The present held me. I was just aware + Of the ripple and stir of muscles where my hand + Lay slack against my side. I sucked live air, + And drew sweet moisture from the clayey sand. + + Now do I know how horses live, and cows, + Minute to minute of the shining day, + Solemn with gaze contented as they browse + Finding their lotus in the fields of May. + + + + +THE GREY BIRD + + + The wind blows + Heavy with spice. + Among macaws and birds of paradise + With plumage grey he goes. + + Silence hangs like a cloud; + Yet lives innumerable teem. + The wild eyes of the crowd + Of watching creatures with a sullen gleam + The forest haunt. + The birds flaunt + Their vivid hues, and scream, + Yet leave the smothering silence still supreme. + + And the bird with the grey wing + Unnoticed flies. No finery or glow + Has he to show, + Nor in this land unhallowed will he sing. + But in the tropic heat, + When March is ablaze, + Strange instincts beat + In his breast. + He is full of amaze, + He suffers a sweet unrest, + And though + Unheeded still he flutter to and fro, + Yet in foreknowledge of a gentle Spring + He turns and fondles oft in his warm throat + The pure, the lovely note + He soon shall sing-- + When, in a land of the West, + In England, over the foam, + After long voyage his tired wings come to rest + And his glad heart finds home. + + Then hark how he shall spill + His liquid miracle, + Hark to the thrill + Of the secret song, + The gay tune hid so long! + See on a twig scarce bent, + Mid leafage cool + Of oak or birch + Or willow-fringe about a reedy pool, + How he shall choose his perch + And make wild music out of souls content. + How he shall love! + How he shall sing! + How he shall rove + With a careless wing! + How in this Isle + Of Splendid Voice, + Home from exile + He shall rejoice! + How his golden song shall be spent + Forgetting the foul, fierce continent! + + + + +ELYSIUM + + + Hushed their feet fall + On the dewy grass: + In robe rhythmical + Shining they pass: + + Lovers who for bliss + Grave and rare and deep + Need no clasp, or kiss, + Or lovers’ sleep. + + + + +ETERNITY + + + Men who are wise in secret lore + Well argue and avow + That fugitive Time shall be no more-- + No change, no after, no before, + But one eternal Now. + + Yet I will dream Eternity + Only a nobler Time, + Where all the past shall gathered be + And hours all of memory + In each new hour chime: + + Triumphing easily over Death; + Showing the sign of power + Of one who goes with even breath, + Who hurrieth not nor lingereth, + Harmonious with his hour: + + A march, full-speed, from thought to thought, + A music more sublime + Than holy poet ever caught + From magic choirs, and tuned and wrought + In miracle of rhyme. + + + + +THE SEA-MAID + + + I heard an immortal, under the sea, + Singing the beauty of change and death. + Oh lovelier than light was she, + And Araby was in her breath. + + She lay in a hollow of stainless air + Roofed and walled with a crystal gleam; + No light wind stirred to quiver her hair + Or loose from her eyes the banded dream. + + Her voice was the piping voice of a child, + Shrill, pathetic. I do not know + Whether I wept or whether I smiled + To hear her chant of curious woe. + + The sea-maid sang, + “Never shall I die. + The evil eye, + The spine, the fang + + Have not any power,-- + No spell, no charm + May wither or harm + My beauty’s flower. + + For, I suppose, + I am fair, more fair + Than any rose + Or earth-bloom rare, + + Or maid of the earth, + Or, faint and far, + Heaven’s dark birth + Of a radiant star. + + And yet they are crowned + With a joy not mine, + With a light divine + Who have found, have found + + The secret of change,-- + They are born, they grow, + They are dark, they glow, + They are new, wild, strange. + + But I remain + Immortal, I + Who am fain, oh fain + To change or die. + + * * * * * + + Once was a time + I found the wreck + Of a ship sublime + With a masted deck: + + I peeped through the hull + And what should it hold + But shimmering gold + And a shining skull + + And broken glass + And twisted steel, + And a steering-wheel + Of oak and brass. + + I loved them and watched them day by day, + I watched their beautiful slow decay. + I watched them soften and break and rust, + And thicken with weeds and fall to dust. + + But when they were crumbled quite, there came + The fish that are centuries-through the same, + Their lifted lids that ought to be wise + Arching high over vacant eyes. + + With gaping mouth and sloping chin, + And face fixed hard in a solemn grin, + They softly murmured, _The passing hour + Over our beauty has no power_. + + I turned. I looked in my crystal glass. + My splendour was bright as ever it was. + And I wept, and I weep, that I should remain + Immortal, unchanging, without a stain.” + + + + +THE CELL + + + When from the hush of this cool wood + I go, Lord, to the noisy mart, + Give me among the multitude, + I pray, a lonely heart. + + Yea, build in me a secret cell + Where quietness shall be a song: + In that green solitude I’ll dwell. + And praise Thee all day long. + + + + +THE ASCETICS + + + Ages long the hills have stood + A solitary brotherhood, + Ages long with sinews bare + They have shouldered the keen air, + They have wrestled with the skies + Hiddenly for a dark prize. + + Merry Spring with her wanton train + Tiptoes, tiptoes by in vain; + Ye, O hills, never behold + Her brave dust of green and gold + Flashing by, the pride, the mirth, + The myriad fluttering of the earth. + + This wild magic ye have lost-- + Tell me, at so bitter cost, + What the guerdon ye have won? + “Speech with the moon, speech with the sun; + Valiancy to meet unbowed + The challenge of the thundercloud, + And, to quicken us for fresh wars, + Gay communion with the stars.” + + + + +CONSPIRACIES + + + The valley seemed a single throat + Singing when the blackbird sang, + So true complete and pure his note, + And through so clean an air it rang: + Trees in a golden rapture stood + Unshaken; their dark shadows fell + And lay locked by the river-flood + In level quiet: blackbird’s bell + And hollow-shining air and tree + And river made conspiracy + And cast on me a spell. + + Deep in my heart the holy stream, + The stream of quietude, was born, + Whose waters wandering clouds of dream + And marvellous idle shapes adorn; + My breath was like the breath of a child + Asleep,--yet rooted in repose, + Multitudinous swift and wild + My branching, flowering thoughts arose. + So heart, breath, mind, while I spoke no word, + Conspired. Suddenly I heard + My song with the blackbird’s close. + + + + +A RHYME OF FAITH + + + Say ye “Lo the heavens frown, + Soon the thundercloud shall burst, + Towering faith shall be flung down. + We--thank God--expect the worst.” + + Cowardly blasphemers, hark! + _Credo_ shall my motto be, + _Credo_--all the sky is dark-- + _Quia Impossibile_. + + + + +THE SHINING POND + + + Against the sky’s pale rim + The cottage and the trees stood dim. + But in the glow, + More tense, + Of the little shining pond that lay below, + The darkened outlines were drawn clear, + Sharp to my sense. + + And gazing there + My vision became + Empty and passive, no more than a frame + For the silver water that burned and burned .... + + At last, when I turned, + My soul was a mirror, on whose surface lay + Without a flaw + Each momentary thing I saw,-- + Then slipped away. + + And I heard + Each faint noise, + Hardly listening. + + I heard + The noise of the cockchafers around me,-- + Not only the sound + As they boomed in their flight, + Above, in the dim light, + But as they busily stirred + Loosening + Heavy body and horny wing, + Blundering free + Out of the thicket of the may-tree. + + I saw the flower look up pale-eyed + From the tangled grass, + And the pale moth climb up, half awake, with quivering wing, + And still to the side + Of the sedges cling,-- + Then like a ghost through the brown air pass. + + And nowhere, + Everywhere, + The fall, + Hollow and clear, + Of the cuckoo’s sounding call. + + And yet so quiet ... every tree + (But most the poplar tree, + Shooting up + Confidently + To the sky’s white cup) + Appeared eternal. + + Suddenly, out beyond + The dark, I heard a chime. + It told of eternity, not of time, + It told that the quiet hour was one + With the quiet ages gone, + With the quiet hours to be + Eternally. + + Shadow crept over the shining pond. + I fell into a deep + Trance, an illumined sleep. + + + + +THE HAUNTED STREET + + + Only the faint-echoing fall of my feet + Sounded in the empty street, + Where noisily an hour or so ago + The townpeople wandered--men, all sorts and types, + Swinging leisurely to and fro, + Laughing and lounging, pulling at their pipes; + Big-featured women; boys with caps aslant + To hint them men of the world; slim girls with scant + White summer dresses that in dubious light + Fluttered and gleamed to the sight + Like pallid moth-wings. + Now the populous street + Was empty: not a phantom lingered there, + Not a ghost of sound on the air + Save, as I passed, for my echoing feet. + + The moon was hidden; hardly a candle shone + At any upper window, and the stars + Were dim as candles: from the shops and bars + The glimmer of light was gone. + A few arc-lamps at intervals threw + Mock moonlight on the mimic waterway + Of the wheel-burnished road; + And the road lay + Cool and rejoicing, lightened of its load + Of travelling life--as a tired face may lie + Smooth of its furrows, the unquiet day + Forgotten, the importunity + Of thought and emotion folded away + And shuttered off by Sleep. + + Only my footsteps sounded in the road. + + Suddenly I stopped. For I felt a faint light creep + Up to me and touch me, and lo, behind a cloud-veil + The harvest Moon gradually climbing the ascent + To the open firmament! + The vapours like lit foam + Dripped and glittered, as I watched her battle against the tide, + Then huddled again more close and strove to hide + Her scattering silver with dull monochrome; + Yet with a final stroke did she prevail, + Unflinching out of the stormy water sail, + Astonish the dark night, and roam + Splendid in triumph on her ocean-home. + + And, as I watched, it seemed + My eyes were nothing but hollows filled to the brim with light, + And my body was unsubstantial, and the flood unearthly streamed + Through and through me, body and soul, immovable, absorbed in sight. + + Along the sombre rank + Of ordinary houses the lustre spread + Until their level surfaces showed blank + And staring-white, and dead. + No longer now as images of Sleep + Could I feel them, folding away + In recesses deep + The voices and the passing feet of day: + Rather I felt them solid, cold, intense, + Shining on the glass of my moonlit sense + Like naked tombstones. They seemed to me + The only reality: + My conscious being + Was from its centre all + Diverted to its outward wall, + From the thinking and willing soul to the touching, seeing, + Receptive surface. I lost + All sense of separation. I was one + With the tomblike stone. + The bar of my humanity I crossed, + Drawn outward as the houses drew more near, + Till they and I for body had only a gleaming wall, + For spirit a vague fear. + + The pulse of Time stopped. + + There was no sound + Anywhere, + No motion in the street around, + In my soul’s eclipse I could not stir. + + Yet some hidden impulse suddenly broke the spell, + For inward, inward, struggling through the barrier + Of my dumb sense I drove. I smote the silent bell + At the door of my heart angrily, bidding it answer me + With a semblance of actual sound. Driven by the tyranny + Of tangible outward horror into my soul I fought, + Striving to win the images that dwell + In the quiet inmost rooms of intricate-carven thought. + + There I conjured a vision of summer’s ripe content, + Gold corn in the valley, gold gorse on the hill, + The gold sun shining, the air full of scent, + The common turf paved with gold tormentil; + The air basking lazily, full of the sound of bees, + And a slow stream washing the boughs of trailing willow-trees. + + There I found a garden where tall hollyhocks + And double-flowered larkspurs towered side by side, + Groups of slender columbine and crimson-hearted phlox, + Old-fashioned lavender and pink and London pride: + And in that close and quiet garden did I find + The faces of my dearest friends, intimate and kind. + + But a hurry of other faces like a shadow-show, + Faces remote and strange, crowded unbidden before me, + Faces at first I did not know ... + Yet some of them bore me + Manifest hate or love,--gazing on me + As a familiar friend or enemy. + Gradually I felt the answering passions stir + And days forgotten from a buried past rise; + Gradually + Like objects with pale outlines whitening the gloom + Of a dark room, + Out of a misty blurr + The faces grew familiar to my eyes. + + And yet, as I dimly knew + With a dazed, half-conscious knowing, + These images coming and going,-- + These faces old and young + That grew + In a moment, unfolded + And faded,--out of a past that never was mine were sprung: + Not mine, although they so remoulded me + Under their strong control + That memory seemed to be slowly drawn up out of my soul + To join them and make them a part + Of my own years, + Linking them to the passions of my heart, + Old hopes and old fears. + + In a while shone out + Distinct among them all, beneath a rout + Of dusky hair, one face + Of quick eager impulsive grace; + And memory arose in me till I burned + With a full-kindled fire + Of worship and love, seeing no failure, no flaw + In her loveliness.... + then memory turned, + Memory and the strength of desire, + To hate, fierce hate, hate fiercer for a memory of shame, + Of a wrong that I had done to her. I saw + With different eyes her beauty and I hated it. + Darkness and agony were in me: I shook: I bit on my lip; there was dew + Of sweat on my hand, on my forehead; I knew + My soul no longer was mine but lit with the flame + Of alien passions, possessing me, driving me ... + + Emptily, + Emptily on either side the motionless line + Of tomblike houses gaped upon me-- + Their emptiness spoke, they gave me an answer, they told + That only the cold + Bodies of those who slept + Lay in their hold: + The hot unsleeping passions were abroad + Thronging the white road, + Pressing around me, into me. They had crept + Deep into me more subtle than sleep; + My soul was strangled: I could not shake them off: I struggled in vain ... + + But with a saving throb of pain + The power of motion came to me again, + And down the length of that echoing street of dread, + While the beautiful mockery of the white moon still looked down + On the sleeping town, + Quick in the stillness I fled. + + +Printed in the United States of America. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + +The Sea-Maid: quote marks in the poem have been left as-is. + +The use of ellipsis has been edited to match the original book. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77817 *** |