I would sing thy face
Sitting here in the firelight;
Mid the senseless noise of guns
Comes it as a flower between the flames.
Sitting here in the firelight;
Mid the senseless noise of guns
Comes it as a flower between the flames.
Sea-blue thine eyes, and bright as hawk’s are,
Yet frail thy face as an image in clear water
As a pearl lying there, hidden or plain, when light
Wavers upon it: mobile as thy moods are
Or faint as a star in the mist’s milk:
And frail thine hands,
Delicate,
Hovering in infinite slow gesture, nigh speech
Hesitating, poised,
Fragile: they would not mar
Gray bloom on a ripe plum.
Yet frail thy face as an image in clear water
As a pearl lying there, hidden or plain, when light
Wavers upon it: mobile as thy moods are
Or faint as a star in the mist’s milk:
And frail thine hands,
Delicate,
Hovering in infinite slow gesture, nigh speech
Hesitating, poised,
Fragile: they would not mar
Gray bloom on a ripe plum.
BLUE AND GOLD
Blue and gold are April days,
All the wealth of spring unrolled
Down the wet, bird-haunted ways
Blue and gold.
In their rapture uncontrolled,
From the trees the blackbirds raise
Songs of triumph, clear and bold:
And the distance is blue haze,
Where the hills the fields enfold,
Like still seas in sheltered bays
Blue and gold.
All the wealth of spring unrolled
Down the wet, bird-haunted ways
Blue and gold.
In their rapture uncontrolled,
From the trees the blackbirds raise
Songs of triumph, clear and bold:
And the distance is blue haze,
Where the hills the fields enfold,
Like still seas in sheltered bays
Blue and gold.
GANHARDINE’S SONG
When my lady climbs the stair,
From the wet, surf-beaten sands,
Loosening her cloak of hair,
With her slender, foam-white hands,
All my soul cries out in me:
What fair things God maketh be!
From the wet, surf-beaten sands,
Loosening her cloak of hair,
With her slender, foam-white hands,
All my soul cries out in me:
What fair things God maketh be!
Praise her white, and red, and gold;
Praise her lips made sweet with mirth,
Her grave eyes, that dreaming hold
Tears, which tremble ere their birth!
Yet what song shall snare the feet
Of white dawn upon the wheat?
Praise her lips made sweet with mirth,
Her grave eyes, that dreaming hold
Tears, which tremble ere their birth!
Yet what song shall snare the feet
Of white dawn upon the wheat?
Surely earth’s swift-changing grace,
Starry waters, starry skies
Fallen in some flower-loved place,
Speak such peace as speak her eyes;
There earth’s sudden wonders are
Glassed, as waters glass a star.
Starry waters, starry skies
Fallen in some flower-loved place,
Speak such peace as speak her eyes;
There earth’s sudden wonders are
Glassed, as waters glass a star.
THE SOUL’S ANSWER
My soul said unto me: Yea, God is wise
With wisdom far too bright for our weak eyes.
I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is wise!
With wisdom far too bright for our weak eyes.
I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is wise!
My soul said unto me: Yea, God is good
And maketh love to be our daily food.
I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is good!
And maketh love to be our daily food.
I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is good!
I sent my soul from me that it might tell
The damned and make a Heaven where was Hell,
It smiled and said: Nay, fear not, all is well!
The damned and make a Heaven where was Hell,
It smiled and said: Nay, fear not, all is well!
WINTER
To U. A. T.
Bare are the boughs where Love took cover,
Once in the spring:
Nor bird to bird, nor lover to lover,
Whisper or sing.
Once in the spring:
Nor bird to bird, nor lover to lover,
Whisper or sing.
A low moon floodeth the level meadows
With frosty light:
Sheep come softly through mist as shadows,
Grey in the night.
With frosty light:
Sheep come softly through mist as shadows,
Grey in the night.
And over pasture and plough and fallow
My dreams go,
For thy mouth to kiss and thine hands to hallow,
Thine heart to know.
My dreams go,
For thy mouth to kiss and thine hands to hallow,
Thine heart to know.
THE FAUN
Kore, O Kore, where art thou fled,
Now that the spring blows white in the land?
Shake out the honeyed locks o’ thine head;
Plunder the lilies that lie to thine hand,
Glistering saffron loved of the bees
Murmuring in them, till shadows grow long
With dew-dropping silence under the trees,
Ere break the voluptuous thrillings of song
From the brown-throated sweet harbourers there
Raptured and grieving under the stars....
Now that the spring blows white in the land?
Shake out the honeyed locks o’ thine head;
Plunder the lilies that lie to thine hand,
Glistering saffron loved of the bees
Murmuring in them, till shadows grow long
With dew-dropping silence under the trees,
Ere break the voluptuous thrillings of song
From the brown-throated sweet harbourers there
Raptured and grieving under the stars....
THE CUP
Ye mock me, wantons, that I come among you
Drunken, bedecked with garlands
Like a white sacrificial bull.
Laugh then!
So Cypris laughing shakes one petal down
From her rose-braided hair,
Honeyed with kisses, to perfume
The glowing purple that brims up this gold.
Laugh then, and mock, but kiss me! For what man
Would come among you sober? Wise, I come
Borne on Silenus’ ass to praise Eros.
Drunken, bedecked with garlands
Like a white sacrificial bull.
Laugh then!
So Cypris laughing shakes one petal down
From her rose-braided hair,
Honeyed with kisses, to perfume
The glowing purple that brims up this gold.
Laugh then, and mock, but kiss me! For what man
Would come among you sober? Wise, I come
Borne on Silenus’ ass to praise Eros.
PAROLES SANS MUSIQUE
For Jelly d’Arànyi
Ah, the night! The eyes!
You are white beneath the plum-blossoms,
As an oread beneath the shadow
Of flowering branches: immobile,
Among things fugitive and frail.
For God hath filled you with the memory
Of things forgotten by man; and your eyelids
Close upon lost splendours.
Yea! They are heavy with the secrets of time;
Troubled by the strangeness of beauty.
But mine heart knoweth the secret
Of your subtile lips and eyes: the silence
Wherein throng presently, with maddening cymbals,
With bright-tressed torches, the maenads,
Their cool flesh wreathed with dark vines.
You are white beneath the plum-blossoms,
As an oread beneath the shadow
Of flowering branches: immobile,
Among things fugitive and frail.
For God hath filled you with the memory
Of things forgotten by man; and your eyelids
Close upon lost splendours.
Yea! They are heavy with the secrets of time;
Troubled by the strangeness of beauty.
But mine heart knoweth the secret
Of your subtile lips and eyes: the silence
Wherein throng presently, with maddening cymbals,
With bright-tressed torches, the maenads,
Their cool flesh wreathed with dark vines.
Ah, the night! The eyes!
Honey pale are you, pallid as ivory:
An amber grape, whose sweetness will be wine
On some king’s lip!
Here ’mid these golds and purples,
These dusked magnificences,
Amid strange faces
Only your face against the plum-blossom
Know I: remembering
Bright spear heads in the moonlight
By the still tents, the red embers,
The strings and flutes of pain....
And again the weariness of desiring.
Honey pale are you, pallid as ivory:
An amber grape, whose sweetness will be wine
On some king’s lip!
Here ’mid these golds and purples,
These dusked magnificences,
Amid strange faces
Only your face against the plum-blossom
Know I: remembering
Bright spear heads in the moonlight
By the still tents, the red embers,
The strings and flutes of pain....
And again the weariness of desiring.
Ah, the night! The eyes!
DANAE
Thou, whom the gray seas bare more fierce than they.
O bitter Love! Have pity on his weeping,
Smite me with pain; lo, I am all thy prey!
Sleep thou, my son, as all the world is sleeping;
Sleep thou, my babe; and sleep, thou bitter sea;
And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me.
O bitter Love! Have pity on his weeping,
Smite me with pain; lo, I am all thy prey!
Sleep thou, my son, as all the world is sleeping;
Sleep thou, my babe; and sleep, thou bitter sea;
And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me.
Ashen thy fruit, O Love, thy crown is pain!
Sweet were thy words to me, thy soft caresses.
Child of my heart, O gain beyond all gain.
Sleep, while I shelter thee with arms and tresses!
Sleep thou, my babe, and sleep, thou bitter sea;
And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me.
Sweet were thy words to me, thy soft caresses.
Child of my heart, O gain beyond all gain.
Sleep, while I shelter thee with arms and tresses!
Sleep thou, my babe, and sleep, thou bitter sea;
And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me.
WORSHIP
Earth, sea, and skies,
For me are in thine eyes,
Yea, thou for me
Holdest within thyself eternity.
For me are in thine eyes,
Yea, thou for me
Holdest within thyself eternity.
As the dew’s sphere
Encloses all the clear
Fires hung in the night,
The thin moon and the shaken seas delight.
Encloses all the clear
Fires hung in the night,
The thin moon and the shaken seas delight.
And there the rose
Where seraphs throne them, glows
Quiring God’s name,
With music that is sound of joy made flame.
Where seraphs throne them, glows
Quiring God’s name,
With music that is sound of joy made flame.
God’s very grace
Is perfect in thy face,
Mirrored such wise
That I mine own soul there imparadise.
Is perfect in thy face,
Mirrored such wise
That I mine own soul there imparadise.
TO A GIRL
(Miss E. F.)
Thy face, which love renews ever with loveliness,
Is known and strange as earth, from night each dawn is new:
Stirred with such restless beauty
As water that wind shadoweth.
Is known and strange as earth, from night each dawn is new:
Stirred with such restless beauty
As water that wind shadoweth.
How may love snare thy soul, or know the ways thereof?
Subtile as flame it is, and secret as the dews:
Even thus closely folded
Love hath thee not, but followeth.
Subtile as flame it is, and secret as the dews:
Even thus closely folded
Love hath thee not, but followeth.
From change to change, nor surfeiteth his ecstasy
That from so brief a joy desireth new delight,
As tho’ the sweet life in thee
Were fugitive and bodiless.
That from so brief a joy desireth new delight,
As tho’ the sweet life in thee
Were fugitive and bodiless.
Nay, love, in thee all change immortal is; nor dies,
Being the soul of thee that pastures on brief joy:
And this earth’s shows mere seeming
In thy clear love’s eternity.
Being the soul of thee that pastures on brief joy:
And this earth’s shows mere seeming
In thy clear love’s eternity.
EROS ATHANATOS
As a rose bends in rain
Your face is bowed into mine arms,
Spilling its golden drops there:
And the fragrance of wet roses
Is in my nostrils,
And the long bright tendrils of your hair
Upon me.
Your face is bowed into mine arms,
Spilling its golden drops there:
And the fragrance of wet roses
Is in my nostrils,
And the long bright tendrils of your hair
Upon me.
Under my hand you tremble as a reed
When wind ruffles the water;
Such great joy floweth beneath my fingers,
And the rain passes, and the wind strews
The ripples with crimson petals
Bright as blood upon their polished silver.
When wind ruffles the water;
Such great joy floweth beneath my fingers,
And the rain passes, and the wind strews
The ripples with crimson petals
Bright as blood upon their polished silver.
But my delight of you
Fragrant and humid in mine arms,
Of a white body convulsive, shaken
With the soul’s passion; lips fierce, eager,
Passes not, but as a song, as a breath passes,
To hide it in a silence, a sleep,
Among cherishing dews, being music:
Nor the mere lute, nor the singer,
But the shaped passion of a god
Embodied in us,
Beyond us, eternal, exultant.
Fragrant and humid in mine arms,
Of a white body convulsive, shaken
With the soul’s passion; lips fierce, eager,
Passes not, but as a song, as a breath passes,
To hide it in a silence, a sleep,
Among cherishing dews, being music:
Nor the mere lute, nor the singer,
But the shaped passion of a god
Embodied in us,
Beyond us, eternal, exultant.
DEMETER MOURNING
I have seen her in sorrow, as one blind
With grief, across the furrows on soiled feet
Pass, as the cold gray dawn came with cold wind,
Gray as fine steel and keen with bitter sleet,
Beneath the white moon waning in the skies:
And I grew holy gazing in her eyes.
With grief, across the furrows on soiled feet
Pass, as the cold gray dawn came with cold wind,
Gray as fine steel and keen with bitter sleet,
Beneath the white moon waning in the skies:
And I grew holy gazing in her eyes.
Then her voice came: Ah! but thou wert too fair
To seek among the dim realms of the dead
Love: and what hands will tremble in thine hair
Or lips faint on thy lips? The clear stars shed
All night their dews on me: and the wind’s breath
Pierced; and my heart grew hungry too for death.
To seek among the dim realms of the dead
Love: and what hands will tremble in thine hair
Or lips faint on thy lips? The clear stars shed
All night their dews on me: and the wind’s breath
Pierced; and my heart grew hungry too for death.
O flower! O clear pool mirroring the trees,
Whose sight was all my soul! O golden one,
Whose hair was like the corn, and rippling seas
Of new-sprung grasses where the light winds run!
O thou, whose breath was music, and whose mirth
Ran like bright water o’er the thirsting earth.
Whose sight was all my soul! O golden one,
Whose hair was like the corn, and rippling seas
Of new-sprung grasses where the light winds run!
O thou, whose breath was music, and whose mirth
Ran like bright water o’er the thirsting earth.
Surely now where the frail, dim shadows dwell
Thou hast sown all the marvel of Earth’s flowers
And lit with wonder all the ways of Hell
And winged the feet of their slow-footed hours,
While I sit lonely by the water-springs
On the bare earth where not one linnet sings!
Thou hast sown all the marvel of Earth’s flowers
And lit with wonder all the ways of Hell
And winged the feet of their slow-footed hours,
While I sit lonely by the water-springs
On the bare earth where not one linnet sings!
THE LOST ANGEL
Thy love is as clear rivers to a thirsty land,
Even as the rivers of earth bringing the wonder of boughs,
The rivers of thy love have filled up the channels of time.
Earth is a lure unto mine eyes. Lo! now I love
The fragile fleeting days, warm lips of women.
Delights that slip away as fish through water.
O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.
Even as the rivers of earth bringing the wonder of boughs,
The rivers of thy love have filled up the channels of time.
Earth is a lure unto mine eyes. Lo! now I love
The fragile fleeting days, warm lips of women.
Delights that slip away as fish through water.
O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.
Soiled am I now with dust, and frustrate glories
Wane, and are tarnished on my darkened brows;
Yea, all my love is for the joys that perish.
How may mine eyes behold my naked soul
No more arrayed in wings of my desire?
The cold rains smite me, and the winds of sorrow
Have driven me down the bitter ways of time.
O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.
Wane, and are tarnished on my darkened brows;
Yea, all my love is for the joys that perish.
How may mine eyes behold my naked soul
No more arrayed in wings of my desire?
The cold rains smite me, and the winds of sorrow
Have driven me down the bitter ways of time.
O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.
How shall I come again into my peace,
So heavy is the darkness on eyes and feet?
One sayeth: Lo, now, God’s lost angel crowned
With broken hopes, and clothed with grief, and mute,
Sitting with his despair through the long starless night,
I, God’s lost angel. Even thus I grow
Starry amid the solitudes, yea, crowned
With my despair, throned even in my fall,
O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.
So heavy is the darkness on eyes and feet?
One sayeth: Lo, now, God’s lost angel crowned
With broken hopes, and clothed with grief, and mute,
Sitting with his despair through the long starless night,
I, God’s lost angel. Even thus I grow
Starry amid the solitudes, yea, crowned
With my despair, throned even in my fall,
O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.
THE MOCKING SONG
Surely now in the spring-time shall I waken my singing
And song shall blossom out of my lips,
Glowing, as gloweth the golden crocus of Zeus.
And song shall blossom out of my lips,
Glowing, as gloweth the golden crocus of Zeus.
For the soft white flakes of the winter have covered me over
With a deep stillness not to be told,
And my heart hath gathered honey of many dreams.
With a deep stillness not to be told,
And my heart hath gathered honey of many dreams.
Now may they blossom as flames, tawny and eager,
Shaking out their bright hair on the wind.
The soft wind that streameth through the long green, rippling grasses.
Shaking out their bright hair on the wind.
The soft wind that streameth through the long green, rippling grasses.
Yea, like a bee, my heart hath fed on the honey of flowers
And is made drunken, and full of strength,
Full of the blood-red wine that is fierce and exultant.
And is made drunken, and full of strength,
Full of the blood-red wine that is fierce and exultant.
But ye have turned your faces from song and from dreaming,
Ye stirred in the winter and wakened,
Your grain was garnered and threshed, yet a hunger filled you.
Ye stirred in the winter and wakened,
Your grain was garnered and threshed, yet a hunger filled you.
But the breasts of Earth had filled me, mine eyes had garnered
Many-coloured may, and sweet, red apples,
Through every sense had I drunk up her strength, and was sated.
Many-coloured may, and sweet, red apples,
Through every sense had I drunk up her strength, and was sated.
What have ye, O wise ones? The corn ye reaped ye shall sow,
Ye shall watch for rains and tempests;
Only I hearing the hail on the roofs shall be gladdened.
Ye shall watch for rains and tempests;
Only I hearing the hail on the roofs shall be gladdened.
Ye, being mockers, said: What profiteth him his singing?
Ye stored not the sweetness in your hearts,
Ye are bent double with the burden of the past, fearful of Time.
Ye stored not the sweetness in your hearts,
Ye are bent double with the burden of the past, fearful of Time.
Ye go forth into the furrows, but who shall come to the reaping?
Lo, now the golden grain falleth to earth!
Though ye be rich in this wise, yet are ye desolate.
Lo, now the golden grain falleth to earth!
Though ye be rich in this wise, yet are ye desolate.
I have gleaned in the hedgerows and wild glades of the forest,
And that sweetness sufficeth to me:
For sweet it is to feel the rain upon face and hair.
And that sweetness sufficeth to me:
For sweet it is to feel the rain upon face and hair.
Surely ye have this day: but the wise sweetness in my heart
Is the honey of all days which ye have not.
So shall my soul mock you, when dying, lo! ye are empty.
Is the honey of all days which ye have not.
So shall my soul mock you, when dying, lo! ye are empty.
THE MOTHER
She hath such quiet eyes,
That feed on all earth’s wonders! She will sit
Here in the orchard, and the bewildering beauty
Of blossoming boughs lulls her as day grows late
And level sunlight streameth through the tree-stems
Lying as pale gold on the green fallows, and gilding the fleeces
Of the slow-feeding sheep in the pastures.
While in her there stirs,
A dream, a delight, a wonder her being knew not,
Yet now remembers, wistfully, as a thing long lost,
Sunken in dim, green, lucid sea-caves;
And her desire goeth out from her, toward God, through the twilight,
Lost, too, in the waters of unfathomable silence.
That feed on all earth’s wonders! She will sit
Here in the orchard, and the bewildering beauty
Of blossoming boughs lulls her as day grows late
And level sunlight streameth through the tree-stems
Lying as pale gold on the green fallows, and gilding the fleeces
Of the slow-feeding sheep in the pastures.
While in her there stirs,
A dream, a delight, a wonder her being knew not,
Yet now remembers, wistfully, as a thing long lost,
Sunken in dim, green, lucid sea-caves;
And her desire goeth out from her, toward God, through the twilight,
Lost, too, in the waters of unfathomable silence.
But the child, gazing upward,
Sees the glory of the apple-blossom suddenly scattered,
As a bird flies through the branches;
And he reaches toward the soft, white fluttering petals
That light upon his face, and laughs; and she
Stoops over him quickly with sudden, hot, passionate kisses,
Smiling for all her tears.
Sees the glory of the apple-blossom suddenly scattered,
As a bird flies through the branches;
And he reaches toward the soft, white fluttering petals
That light upon his face, and laughs; and she
Stoops over him quickly with sudden, hot, passionate kisses,
Smiling for all her tears.
MEDITATION
Even tho’ I descend into the darkness of deep valleys,
Yet have mine eyes beheld the light,
And my heart treasureth it.
Yet have mine eyes beheld the light,
And my heart treasureth it.
One, seeing thy face, loseth it not in dreams.
It shall abide with him through all the days;
And his heart treasureth it.
It shall abide with him through all the days;
And his heart treasureth it.
Earth dieth in the darkness, but when dawn cometh
Slowly the trees and hills grow into the light....
The heart of darkness cherisheth the dawn.
Slowly the trees and hills grow into the light....
The heart of darkness cherisheth the dawn.
Who shall forget thee having seen thy face?
I have dreamed in my sleep of thee, as a man dreameth of a maiden.
Yea! the silence and darkness held thee as a dream.
Lo! I have seen thee. How shall I forget?
I have dreamed in my sleep of thee, as a man dreameth of a maiden.
Yea! the silence and darkness held thee as a dream.
Lo! I have seen thee. How shall I forget?
Thy beauty is treasured up in my heart.
THE HONEY GATHERER
I would drink of the honeyed wine that is heavy with poppies
Until my trembling eyelids close, and only the murmur
Of Life I should know: as the murmur of seas to one sleeping.
Glide now the soft, slim feet
Of white dreams that are lovely and fugitive
To whom thy sorrow is alien, my beloved!
Sweetly their feet stir the young grasses, they lie coiled
In clear dark waters, or couched in the thickets,
Their whiteness dappled with shadow,
So might I forget again the sword of thy beauty
And the desire that looked out from thine eyes, until mine heart leapt
Forth to meet it, and was seared in the flame.
Life was as a net about me, and mine hands might not rend it,
But I lay in fear among the toils, and afar
Mine ears strained to catch the footsteps of the hunter.
Until my trembling eyelids close, and only the murmur
Of Life I should know: as the murmur of seas to one sleeping.
Glide now the soft, slim feet
Of white dreams that are lovely and fugitive
To whom thy sorrow is alien, my beloved!
Sweetly their feet stir the young grasses, they lie coiled
In clear dark waters, or couched in the thickets,
Their whiteness dappled with shadow,
So might I forget again the sword of thy beauty
And the desire that looked out from thine eyes, until mine heart leapt
Forth to meet it, and was seared in the flame.
Life was as a net about me, and mine hands might not rend it,
But I lay in fear among the toils, and afar
Mine ears strained to catch the footsteps of the hunter.
Honey and poppies!
Until desire is drowned within me, until sleep
Hath builded a world that is gateless,
A world of beautiful luminous waters
Through which the white dreams slip and swim,
Pearled with fine spray, their bright hair floating,
To whom love and desire and sorrow are foolishness
And thy beauty a shadow, that the wind breaketh.
And thy body but dust for the wind’s pasture
And thy sorrow but a murmur of waters....
There are they, the exultant, the swan-throated;
Through the night cometh the sound of their trumpets,
Until mine heart is drunken with their wine.
Until desire is drowned within me, until sleep
Hath builded a world that is gateless,
A world of beautiful luminous waters
Through which the white dreams slip and swim,
Pearled with fine spray, their bright hair floating,
To whom love and desire and sorrow are foolishness
And thy beauty a shadow, that the wind breaketh.
And thy body but dust for the wind’s pasture
And thy sorrow but a murmur of waters....
There are they, the exultant, the swan-throated;
Through the night cometh the sound of their trumpets,
Until mine heart is drunken with their wine.
Honey and poppies!
Until sleep is heavy upon me as a garment,
Until the winged joys come.
But even then, O my beloved! is desire and a grieving;
Even in the deep waters my soul remembereth
How it hath been troubled by thy hands.
Until sleep is heavy upon me as a garment,
Until the winged joys come.
But even then, O my beloved! is desire and a grieving;
Even in the deep waters my soul remembereth
How it hath been troubled by thy hands.
CROCUS SONG
For M. C.
The first flame, the first spear of the spring,
A thing perfected of the dews and fire,
Saffron in hoar-frost, brightened as with wine:
Thou blossoming in the heart of me!
Ah, golden
Is she whose love hath led me through the world
A thing of dews and fire, of wine and saffron!
Gray willows veiling my beloved
Bend above her,
As though you would love her,
Now clear water shadoweth her whiteness.
A thing perfected of the dews and fire,
Saffron in hoar-frost, brightened as with wine:
Thou blossoming in the heart of me!
Ah, golden
Is she whose love hath led me through the world
A thing of dews and fire, of wine and saffron!
Gray willows veiling my beloved
Bend above her,
As though you would love her,
Now clear water shadoweth her whiteness.
Ere brown bees go abroad murmuring,
One saffron crocus hath made glad desire,
To follow on swift feet slim feet of thine;
Love wakening for joy of thee,
Beholden
As golden petals of one flower unfurled,
Brimmed up with dews and fire, with wine and saffron.
Clear waters shadowing her whiteness
Flow beside her,
As tho’ you would hide her,
Jealous that mine eyes have my beloved.
One saffron crocus hath made glad desire,
To follow on swift feet slim feet of thine;
Love wakening for joy of thee,
Beholden
As golden petals of one flower unfurled,
Brimmed up with dews and fire, with wine and saffron.
Clear waters shadowing her whiteness
Flow beside her,
As tho’ you would hide her,
Jealous that mine eyes have my beloved.
THE IMAGE SELLER
I would bring them again unto you,
The gods with broad and placid brows;
And for you have I wrought their images
Of carven ivory and gold;
That your lips may be shaped to praise them,
And your praises be laughter and all delights of the body,
Dancing and exultation, a dance of torches
In scarlet sandals, with burnished targes:
A dance of boys by the wine-press
Naked, with must-stained purple thighs:
Of young girls by the river in saffron vesture
Dancing to smitten strings and reed flutes.
Praise then mine images: Helios; Artemis,
With a leash of straining hounds: and the Foam-born.
The gods with broad and placid brows;
And for you have I wrought their images
Of carven ivory and gold;
That your lips may be shaped to praise them,
And your praises be laughter and all delights of the body,
Dancing and exultation, a dance of torches
In scarlet sandals, with burnished targes:
A dance of boys by the wine-press
Naked, with must-stained purple thighs:
Of young girls by the river in saffron vesture
Dancing to smitten strings and reed flutes.
Praise then mine images: Helios; Artemis,
With a leash of straining hounds: and the Foam-born.
Turning from love to sleep, drowsy and smiling,
With the fluttering of doves and dreams about her
And, softer than silk, Hephaistos’ golden net.
Lo, Bacchus and his painted beasts!
Praise ye mine images!
A dryad whom clinging ivy holds while laughs
The swarthy centaur pursuing; and a troop
Of small Pans delicate and deformed.
Yet your lips praise not,
Crying: We too would be deathless as these are,
We, the hunted! But dance and adore them,
Praise my sweet grave gods of the blue, and the earth-born!
Praise their strong grace and swiftness!
For in these gods mine hands have wrought,
In these alone are ye deathless.
With the fluttering of doves and dreams about her
And, softer than silk, Hephaistos’ golden net.
Lo, Bacchus and his painted beasts!
Praise ye mine images!
A dryad whom clinging ivy holds while laughs
The swarthy centaur pursuing; and a troop
Of small Pans delicate and deformed.
Yet your lips praise not,
Crying: We too would be deathless as these are,
We, the hunted! But dance and adore them,
Praise my sweet grave gods of the blue, and the earth-born!
Praise their strong grace and swiftness!
For in these gods mine hands have wrought,
In these alone are ye deathless.
SIMAETHA
For D. S. D.
Thou art wine, Simaetha! When mine eyes drink thee
My blood flames with the golden joy thou art,
Bewildering me, until thy loveliness
Is veiled in its own light: nor know I then
Pure brows, and placid lips and eyes, and hair
With wind and sunlight glorious: but all
Are mingled in one flame. O thou, in me,
Art shrined, as none hath seen thee, as gods live
Whom Time shall not consume; nor rusts thy gold
Ever, so hath my soul enclosed thee round
With its divine air. Yea, thy very life,
Which flows through all the guises of thy moods,
Escaping as they die, and laughs and weeps
And builds again its beauty, have I set
Beyond the jeopards of rough time: yea! all
Thine ivory, imperilled loveliness,
And winey sanguine where the cheek’s curve takes
Light as a bloom upon it, not to pass
So there be God.
Thy praise hath made speech song
And song from lip to lip flies, and black ships
Bear it from sea to sea; and on some quay
Where rise tall masts, and gay booths flank the ways
A tumbler sings it; and an alien air
Trembles with thee, while strange men wonder, dumb
To see thee pass: thou being all my song.
My blood flames with the golden joy thou art,
Bewildering me, until thy loveliness
Is veiled in its own light: nor know I then
Pure brows, and placid lips and eyes, and hair
With wind and sunlight glorious: but all
Are mingled in one flame. O thou, in me,
Art shrined, as none hath seen thee, as gods live
Whom Time shall not consume; nor rusts thy gold
Ever, so hath my soul enclosed thee round
With its divine air. Yea, thy very life,
Which flows through all the guises of thy moods,
Escaping as they die, and laughs and weeps
And builds again its beauty, have I set
Beyond the jeopards of rough time: yea! all
Thine ivory, imperilled loveliness,
And winey sanguine where the cheek’s curve takes
Light as a bloom upon it, not to pass
So there be God.
Thy praise hath made speech song
And song from lip to lip flies, and black ships
Bear it from sea to sea; and on some quay
Where rise tall masts, and gay booths flank the ways
A tumbler sings it; and an alien air
Trembles with thee, while strange men wonder, dumb
To see thee pass: thou being all my song.
TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS
Gross, sensual faces herded; and then you
With magical wide eyes came. Eyes that kept
The mirth of dews at dawn in them, and slept
To the tumult of the street. They held the blue,
Sweet, flowering spaces under pines; and knew
Cropped lawns, where naked dryads dancing leapt
To the clash of golden cymbals, while there crept
Furtively on white bellies through the dew,
To glut on grace, ambiguous fauns, whose eyes
Burned glittering with desire: until the horn
Of the moon turned ashen; and through the still trees
The lithe shapes feed: and dawn brimmed up the skies
With winey gold, and walked upon the corn;
And murmuring through the vines came gleaming bees.
With magical wide eyes came. Eyes that kept
The mirth of dews at dawn in them, and slept
To the tumult of the street. They held the blue,
Sweet, flowering spaces under pines; and knew
Cropped lawns, where naked dryads dancing leapt
To the clash of golden cymbals, while there crept
Furtively on white bellies through the dew,
To glut on grace, ambiguous fauns, whose eyes
Burned glittering with desire: until the horn
Of the moon turned ashen; and through the still trees
The lithe shapes feed: and dawn brimmed up the skies
With winey gold, and walked upon the corn;
And murmuring through the vines came gleaming bees.
HURLEYWAYNE
For M. S.
Such cool peace as fills
Green solitudes with trembling light at eve,
Fresh after summer thunder: and thin leaves
Stir gleaming, and grow still; then the green light
Alone moves, pulsing in pooled air, that shakes
No more with sound. Quiet brims full; then break
As dropping rain hurrying elfin feet,
A silvery foam of sound blown as white spray,
Sparkling with great bright bubbles: no sound to sense,
Bright foam upon blue pools of quiet tossed:
And a sight of waven manes that gleam
Shaken in the twilight under luminous leaves;
And challenging fairy horns that invite to the chace
Gay, light o’ heart. And the galloping host,
Winding their horns, rush by as wind in the grass,
Shimmering; and the horns from afar ring out,
Farther and farther away.
Green solitudes with trembling light at eve,
Fresh after summer thunder: and thin leaves
Stir gleaming, and grow still; then the green light
Alone moves, pulsing in pooled air, that shakes
No more with sound. Quiet brims full; then break
As dropping rain hurrying elfin feet,
A silvery foam of sound blown as white spray,
Sparkling with great bright bubbles: no sound to sense,
Bright foam upon blue pools of quiet tossed:
And a sight of waven manes that gleam
Shaken in the twilight under luminous leaves;
And challenging fairy horns that invite to the chace
Gay, light o’ heart. And the galloping host,
Winding their horns, rush by as wind in the grass,
Shimmering; and the horns from afar ring out,
Farther and farther away.
TO SÀÏ
You chase the blue butterflies,
The shining dew is shaken by your feet,
That are white in the young grasses;
Swift, you hesitate, poised;
And they elude you; fluttering
In the windless gold.
The shining dew is shaken by your feet,
That are white in the young grasses;
Swift, you hesitate, poised;
And they elude you; fluttering
In the windless gold.
Sàï is small,
But a little child,
With little sorrows;
Yet her tears shine with laughter,
Her face comes and goes between the wet leaves,
As a face in sleep
Comes and goes between green shadows,
As moving lights hide and shine in the marshes.
But a little child,
With little sorrows;
Yet her tears shine with laughter,
Her face comes and goes between the wet leaves,
As a face in sleep
Comes and goes between green shadows,
As moving lights hide and shine in the marshes.
I shall not look at her,
Lest she should hide from mine eyes
In the shadow.
I bring her pale honey in a comb, apples
Sweet and smelling; and leave them beside me;
Then comes she softly.
There is a bee in the willow-weed,
From flower to flower it climbs, and I watch it
Till the honey and apples are eaten.
Sàï is quite close to me; now she has gone
She has forgotten me.
Lest she should hide from mine eyes
In the shadow.
I bring her pale honey in a comb, apples
Sweet and smelling; and leave them beside me;
Then comes she softly.
There is a bee in the willow-weed,
From flower to flower it climbs, and I watch it
Till the honey and apples are eaten.
Sàï is quite close to me; now she has gone
She has forgotten me.
Sàï is small,
But a little child.
But a little child.
THE SHEPHERDS’ CAROL OF
BETHLEHEM
A golden star hangs in the night,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
And all the fields are clad in white:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
And all the fields are clad in white:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
What maketh Mary’s face so pale?
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
It is the hour of her travail:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
It is the hour of her travail:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
She lies between an ass and beast,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
Three kings come riding from the east:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
Three kings come riding from the east:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
They have ridden out of the lands afar:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
They have ridden out of the lands afar:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
In ermine furs and cramasie,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
A duffle cloak will shelter me:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
A duffle cloak will shelter me:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
The kings have stooped to Mary’s hem,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
But her eyes travel away from them:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
But her eyes travel away from them:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
What gifts have we to bring the Lord?
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
Neither a sceptre, nor a sword:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
Neither a sceptre, nor a sword:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
We bring no gifts but milk and cheese:
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
And a fleece of wool for Mary’s knees:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
And a fleece of wool for Mary’s knees:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Nor myrrh, nor frankincense, nor gold:
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
But a fleece to shield Him from the cold:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
But a fleece to shield Him from the cold:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Down miry ways, tho’ storms be wild,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
A warm soft fleece for a naked child:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
A warm soft fleece for a naked child:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Now Mary turns her face to sleep:
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
While we go back to tend our sheep:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
While we go back to tend our sheep:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
The sparks fly from the crackling thorn,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
Our God was in a stable born:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
Our God was in a stable born:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Tho’ three wise kings rode from the east,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
He was born between an ass and beast:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
He was born between an ass and beast:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow.
I saw no trail of starry light,
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
I heard a child wail in the night:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow!
Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!
I heard a child wail in the night:
I saw three shepherds out in the snow!