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Title: A Sheaf of Verses: Poems

Author: Radclyffe Hall

Release date: June 29, 2015 [eBook #49321]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHEAF OF VERSES: POEMS ***

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PRESS NOTICES

"'TWIXT EARTH AND STARS"

"Miss Radclyffe-Hall is a poet. She has a gift of expression always felicitous, not infrequently spontaneous, and her rhythms are really musical. Moreover, the level of her book is uniformly high. In writing of nature her intuition and sympathy are remarkable. Nearly every poem contains something which clings to your memory and sets you thinking.... The main note is vigorous, joyous youth, thankful for the right to exist in such a lovely world.

"If Miss Radclyffe-Hall acquires a higher finish she may confidently look forward to taking her place among the poetesses of this country. It is not often one can so honestly recommend the public to buy a volume of poetry."—The Queen, 4th July, 1906.

"The author of ''Twixt Earth and Stars' has a real talent for versification, and the subjects chosen are all poetical, added to which she has real feeling and the power to express it. I am so charmed with this little book of poems that I cannot help recommending it to you, that you also may enjoy it."—The Lady, 5th July, 1906.

"A little book of short poems, most of which are very pleasant, being marked by sincerity and sweetness."—Evening Standard, 21st July, 1906.

"''Twixt Earth and Stars' is a dainty little volume of verse, some of which is of considerable merit."—Publisher and Bookseller, 28th July, 1906.

A SHEAF OF VERSES

POEMS

MARGUERITE RADCLYFFE-HALL

AUTHOR OF "'TWIXT EARTH AND STARS"

JOHN AND EDWARD BUMPUS LTD.
350 OXFORD STREET, LONDON, W.

MCMVIII

DEDICATED TO SAD DAYS AND GLAD DAYS

	PAGE
Kinship	1
The Moon's Message	2
On a Battle Field	4
To ——	6
The All-Mother's Awakening	7
A Summer Thought	10
Moth to the Flame	11
A Twilight Fancy	12
The Two Angels	13
In the Hardt Wald	15
The Quest of the White Heather	18
One Night	21
A Welcome	22
White Butterflies	23
Thoughts	26
The Cloud and the Mountain	27
An August Night	29
Spring Hopes	30
My Choice	31
In Couples	32
House Hunting	33
Re-incarnation	35
Ode to Sappho	36
Incompatible	39
Confidence	41
Found Wanting	43
In Darkness	44
Brother Filippo	45
An Autumn Ride	52
Before Dawn	56
My Castle	57
Malvern	58
To my little Cousin	60
Trepidation	61
At Meissen	62
Winter on the Zuyder Zee	64
Ardour	67
A Complaint	68
The Laying of Ghosts	69
To a Baby	72
O Lady Mine	73
Butterfly	74
To ——	75
A Windy June	76
Hollyhocks	78
The Truth	79
A Mountain Path	80
A Pearl Necklace	81
To Roses	82
On the Sea-shore	83
My Valley	84
To ——	85
Finis	86
Old Verses	91
On the Road to Tennaley Town	92
A little Dirge	93
The Poet	94
A Night in Italy	95
Hands and Lips	96
We Two	97
To ——	98
North and South	99
On the Hill Top	101
The Moon	102
Speculation	103
The Meeting	104
To Some One!	105
Out at Sea	106
Faith	107
The Scar	108
Comparison	109
An Interlude	110

A SHEAF OF VERSES

KINSHIP

Sunlight and shade,

Moorland and glade,

Evening and day,

Winter and May,

Troubadour breeze,

Amorous trees,

Pondering Hills,

Gold daffodils

Born of the Spring,

Thrushes that sing

Passionate notes

From downy throats,

Be unto me

Each one of ye

Sister or brother;

And Earth be my mother!

THE MOON'S MESSAGE

The Moon looked in at the window,

And smiled as I wrote to you,

She lay like a frail white maiden,

In shadowy folds of blue.

Her bosom was bare and tender,

And slight, for she still was young,

And down from her dainty shoulders

A mantle of starlight hung.

She wooed with a wanton ardour

The winds till they lulled to sighs,

And night was transformed with beauty,

For love of her limpid eyes.

The soul of the cloudy darkness

Awakened beneath her beams,

The sky swooned away with longing,

The Earth stirred in tender dreams.

Alas! for the moon was cruel,

Far colder than snow was she,

Her heart was a burnt-out Planet,

Her light but a fallacy:

And she looked at my open letter,

And called from her couch on high,

"Pray give my love to my Sister

Who is even more cold than I."

ON A BATTLE FIELD

Once o'er this hill whereon we stand,

Just you and I, hand clasp'd in hand

Amid the silence, and the space,

A mighty battle rent the air,

With dying curse and choking prayer;

'Mid shot and shell death stalked apace.

Is it conceivable to you—

So much at peace—because we two

Are close together, or to me?

The silent beauty of the noon

Seems like a Heaven-granted boon,

Aglow with tender ecstasy.

A little mist of hazy blue

Is slowly hiding from our view

The city's domes and slender spires,

As thro' a bridal veil the sun

Subdued and shy lights one by one

The virgin clouds with blushing fires.

The wind has fallen; very low

We hear his wings brush past, and know

He creeps away to dream and rest;

How sweet to be alone, to feel

You breathe one longing sigh, and steal

A little closer to my breast.

Is anything worth while but this?

We may not perish for a kiss,

Yet thus it were not hard to die!

War strews the earth with countless dead,

And after all is done and said,

The end is love, and you and I!

TO ——

The world that thro' its vale of tears

Looks out upon Eternity

Has yet one smile for us, and we

Still youthful in the count of years,

May add our smiles, and kiss the lips

Of life, for whosoever sips

The wine within that ruddy bowl

Has quaffed defiance to the spheres.

Beloved, see, I drink thereto!

And pass the goblet on to you.

THE ALL-MOTHER'S AWAKENING

To-day the still, deep mind of the Earth

Has steeped in longing her wistful eyes,

A sense of wonder and glad surprise

Thrills thro' her heart with a thought of birth.

The grave All-Mother looks up and smiles,

Her breath comes balmy from sunlit mouth,

Her bosom bare to the ardent south

Is fanned by perfume from fruitful miles.

All winter long has the dear Earth slept

In drifts of snow, 'neath the bane of frost,

Her children sought for the Mother lost,

Yet found her not, and in anguish wept.

All winter long have my senses cried

For warmth of sun, and the blue of sky,

The hard north answered to mock my sigh,

And all the glory of life denied.

The cold mists drifting on land and sea,

Like ghosts of passions burnt out and chill,

Smote heart and soul with the fear of ill,

That cast its awfulness over me.

The dank gray sails, and the dank gray shore,

They melted each in the other's face,

With clammy kiss, in a wan embrace

That left them colder than e'en before.

And thro' the boughs of the moss-grown trees

The sap flowed sluggish, or not at all,

While here and there would a dead leaf fall,

Like thought of harrowing memories.

Then from the heart of the Universe

There rose a wail of unending woe,

An anguished prayer from the deeps below:

"Oh! Mother, lift from our souls the curse!"

"Oh! Mother, quicken thy sacred womb,

With fire that throbs in the veins of Spring,

Behold the numbness of everything,

And only thou can avert the doom."

"Oh! Mother, hear us!" But silent still

The Earth slept on, as it were in death.

Her ice-bound bosom stirred not with breath,

So fast she lay 'neath the winter's will.

I joined my prayer to the wind and trees,

I joined my cry to the striving soil,

I said, "Oh! Mother, our endless toil

Has made us sicken with miseries.

"Rise up! and help us again to live,

Rise up! uncover thy fruitful breast,

We faint in winter's unrestful rest,

We burn with longings to love and give."

And as I spoke came a voice more strong

Than all creation's, o'er land and sea

It called our Mother to ecstasy,

And lo! she stirred, who had slept so long.

She stirred, she opened her drowsy eyes,

And bending down from the dome above,

Beheld the form of embodied Love,

As Spring stepped Earthward from Paradise.

A SUMMER THOUGHT

I often think that all those vast desires

For purer joys, that thrill the human heart,

Vague yearnings such as solitude inspires,

That nameless something silence can impart,

Could after all be quenched by simple things,

Whose spirits dwell within the wide-eyed flowers,

Or haunt deep glades, where scent of primrose clings

About the garments of the passing hours.

MOTH TO THE FLAME

Moth to the flame!

Fool that you be,

Life's but a game,

Love is the same,

Better go free!

Moth to the fire!

Madness your fate;

Burnt of desire,

If you expire,

Joy comes too late.

Moth to the kiss

Bringing you death!

"Gladly for this

Agonized bliss,

With my last breath

Will I adore

As ne'er before!"

Foolish Moth saith.

A TWILIGHT FANCY

Dear, give me the tips of your fingers

To hold in this scented gloom,

'Mid the sighs of the dying roses,

That steal through the breeze-swept room;

I would have you but lightly touch me,

A phantom might stir the dress,

In its passing, of some lost lover

With just such a faint caress;

Or a butterfly wan with summer

Brush thus with his down-flecked wings

The bells of the altar lilies

He touches, and lightly rings.

So give me the tips of your fingers,

Not your hand, lest I break the spell

Of the moment with too much passion,

And lose what I love so well.

A Sheaf of Verses: Poems

About This Book

The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Sheaf of Verses: Poems

A SHEAF OF VERSES

CONTENTS

A SHEAF OF VERSES

KINSHIP

THE MOON'S MESSAGE

ON A BATTLE FIELD

TO ——

THE ALL-MOTHER'S AWAKENING

A SUMMER THOUGHT

MOTH TO THE FLAME

A TWILIGHT FANCY