One dawn she woke me when the darkness lay
Faint on the Summer fields. The air
Was like a question. Green was grey
With dew distilled in delitesence where
Covert, the night-folk wrought. She said: “Dear one,
It is our holiday.” Forth we went
Finding new kindred, new bequest of sun,
Inheriting again the firmament.
Faint on the Summer fields. The air
Was like a question. Green was grey
With dew distilled in delitesence where
Covert, the night-folk wrought. She said: “Dear one,
It is our holiday.” Forth we went
Finding new kindred, new bequest of sun,
Inheriting again the firmament.
THERE ARE WITHIN US LIVES WE NEVER LIVE
There are within us lives we never live
By sense or soul, for being does not know
To tell their depth or breast their flow
Or to taste the sweetness that they give.
And now in distance, now in voices still,
In pity or in harmony, in sleep,
We lead unconscious lives, old, deep,
Upon the far slope of an unknown hill.
By sense or soul, for being does not know
To tell their depth or breast their flow
Or to taste the sweetness that they give.
And now in distance, now in voices still,
In pity or in harmony, in sleep,
We lead unconscious lives, old, deep,
Upon the far slope of an unknown hill.
LAST NIGHT I DREAMED I SAW MY MOTHER YOUNG
Last night I dreamed I saw my mother young.
I never knew her till her hair was grey;
Last night I saw the shadows lit away
And pearls about her shoulders strung.
Out from our haunts of home among
She came as if she knew them not. There lay
Old hope in her young eyes. And gay
Her speech came in some laughing tongue.
I never knew her till her hair was grey;
Last night I saw the shadows lit away
And pearls about her shoulders strung.
Out from our haunts of home among
She came as if she knew them not. There lay
Old hope in her young eyes. And gay
Her speech came in some laughing tongue.
WHY AM I SILENT?
Why am I silent? Tell me how to speak
With all the sweet familiars of the way;
Call Summer by her name; and with the Day
Walk royally companioned cheek on cheek
For that faint speech awhile withheld, that weak
Task of the Word undone is the great Nay,
The winged thunder that denies the ray.
Yet once when first I saw the hapless Greek
By present impulse of the god urged on
Seek out the shadow of the awful grove,
I felt the word. I caught it once again
In a sweet flash of arrowy sun that shone
Thickening on flowers. But when
You sorrowed, Love,
I knew it then....
With all the sweet familiars of the way;
Call Summer by her name; and with the Day
Walk royally companioned cheek on cheek
For that faint speech awhile withheld, that weak
Task of the Word undone is the great Nay,
The winged thunder that denies the ray.
Yet once when first I saw the hapless Greek
By present impulse of the god urged on
Seek out the shadow of the awful grove,
I felt the word. I caught it once again
In a sweet flash of arrowy sun that shone
Thickening on flowers. But when
You sorrowed, Love,
I knew it then....
I WANDERED WHERE THE WONDER OF THE SKY——
I wandered where the wonder of the sky
Was wide upon me. Isle beyond isle the east
Was signing that the Summer night had ceased
Upon the dawn. Then came a stranger by
Immersed in the magic as was I.
We stood together at the sorcerer’s feast
Saying half-words; and as the day increased
We parted with a farewell almost shy.
Was wide upon me. Isle beyond isle the east
Was signing that the Summer night had ceased
Upon the dawn. Then came a stranger by
Immersed in the magic as was I.
We stood together at the sorcerer’s feast
Saying half-words; and as the day increased
We parted with a farewell almost shy.
HERE A STILL FIELD
Here a still field. I move within the green,
It lies aloof. Look where I will
The steady glory of noon on the hill
Lays its divine indifference on the scene.
I seem too far. I listen and I lean,
Yet never will the burying hours fulfill
One hope of nearness to the Far and Still,
But wound me with the sweet that they might mean.
It lies aloof. Look where I will
The steady glory of noon on the hill
Lays its divine indifference on the scene.
I seem too far. I listen and I lean,
Yet never will the burying hours fulfill
One hope of nearness to the Far and Still,
But wound me with the sweet that they might mean.
RETURN
How they come back ... I never see retreat
Down the long beach the phalanx of bright foam
But faint across the fields that fold them home
I hear the rhythmic fall of speeding feet.
And they who loved the garden of the sea
And died, come back. I never know a land
Of cities but there come to me
Their dead to touch my hand.
Down the long beach the phalanx of bright foam
But faint across the fields that fold them home
I hear the rhythmic fall of speeding feet.
And they who loved the garden of the sea
And died, come back. I never know a land
Of cities but there come to me
Their dead to touch my hand.
BY MY SIDE ALL DAY ANOTHER WENT
By my side all day another went.
We breathed the cold spiced air of the Spring dark
Before the dawn; together at the hark
Of noon we listened; and we bent
To borrow from still grasses the warm scent
Of afternoon and dusk. We stood to mark
The deathless ark
Unveiled before the light was spent.
We breathed the cold spiced air of the Spring dark
Before the dawn; together at the hark
Of noon we listened; and we bent
To borrow from still grasses the warm scent
Of afternoon and dusk. We stood to mark
The deathless ark
Unveiled before the light was spent.
IN J. P. P.’s METRE
I
Here a vine, there a voice,
Then a violin;
All the quiet is astir
Like a flute within.
Then a violin;
All the quiet is astir
Like a flute within.
Here a light, there a leaf,
Little boughs that lean;
And the people who move by
Wonder what they mean.
Little boughs that lean;
And the people who move by
Wonder what they mean.
“Look,” they say, “there a star
Watching in a well;
Line and green and melody——”
Then they try to tell.
Watching in a well;
Line and green and melody——”
Then they try to tell.
II
All the air is liveried
In a kind of white;
It is not like the darkness
Or the light;
It is like the covenant
Of a clearer sight.
In a kind of white;
It is not like the darkness
Or the light;
It is like the covenant
Of a clearer sight.
Now a sudden bud is born
Burning in the dew;
There the fog rose palely lifting
All as if it knew
The faint flowing speech
Of the friendly blue.
Burning in the dew;
There the fog rose palely lifting
All as if it knew
The faint flowing speech
Of the friendly blue.
Oh the little hurrying wing
Like a blowing leaf;
Oh the shadows gathering in
Many a sheaf;
There a cloud is carved like some
Airy coral reef.
Like a blowing leaf;
Oh the shadows gathering in
Many a sheaf;
There a cloud is carved like some
Airy coral reef.
Like a new sense these venture
In the veins and lo,
All the blood is musical
In its beat and flow;
And we wait wondering
What new thing we know.
In the veins and lo,
All the blood is musical
In its beat and flow;
And we wait wondering
What new thing we know.
III
TO A POET
Woo a little choir of words,
Teach them to sing;
Let them thrill the air like birds
Love-summoning.
Thread the silence with a lute,
Sound the spiral of a flute.
... Vain, but vain. The words are mute.
Teach them to sing;
Let them thrill the air like birds
Love-summoning.
Thread the silence with a lute,
Sound the spiral of a flute.
... Vain, but vain. The words are mute.
EXERCISE IN SPENSERIANS
The air is purged of gold and in its stead
Is poured a fire of silver on the green;
And now the moon new-risen from the dead
Of dearer nights than this finds her demesne
Lonely of stars, as they to greet their queen
Had rushed in argent riot from the blue
To spill themselves like flowers or waste unseen
In stealing perfumes that elude and woo
As now eludes now woos the wind the sweet night through.
Is poured a fire of silver on the green;
And now the moon new-risen from the dead
Of dearer nights than this finds her demesne
Lonely of stars, as they to greet their queen
Had rushed in argent riot from the blue
To spill themselves like flowers or waste unseen
In stealing perfumes that elude and woo
As now eludes now woos the wind the sweet night through.
Down from her turret when the dusk was new
The Lady Margot stepped and lured by wile
Of faint near things that croon of what they do
With wandering touch she thought to walk the while
The hours were printless on the idle dial.
Deep in a garden lamped with lily bells
Which hold the light as does some opal vial
She took her way near where a fountain wells
And wakes its rainbow ribbons into madrigals.
The Lady Margot stepped and lured by wile
Of faint near things that croon of what they do
With wandering touch she thought to walk the while
The hours were printless on the idle dial.
Deep in a garden lamped with lily bells
Which hold the light as does some opal vial
She took her way near where a fountain wells
And wakes its rainbow ribbons into madrigals.
Fluttering she peered within the hollow gloom
That cloistered a wild wood beyond the wall;
For shapes are woven by the troubled loom
Of night; and tremulous tapestries oft fall
Across familiar paths and make them all
Astir with effigies that snarl and grin
And take strange steps along a horrid hall
Which is by day a lane of leaves within;
As if at night a holy nun should dream of sin.
That cloistered a wild wood beyond the wall;
For shapes are woven by the troubled loom
Of night; and tremulous tapestries oft fall
Across familiar paths and make them all
Astir with effigies that snarl and grin
And take strange steps along a horrid hall
Which is by day a lane of leaves within;
As if at night a holy nun should dream of sin.
At length she reached a little windless glade
Fragrant with natal April not long flown
And dreamful of the days when lips were laid
On lips that trembled as they found their own.
There where the mooned close was thickest sown
With shadows was the lady met with one
Who sat with drooping head and made soft moan.
He was a stranger knight whose armour shone
Bright as the molten golden javelins of the sun.
Fragrant with natal April not long flown
And dreamful of the days when lips were laid
On lips that trembled as they found their own.
There where the mooned close was thickest sown
With shadows was the lady met with one
Who sat with drooping head and made soft moan.
He was a stranger knight whose armour shone
Bright as the molten golden javelins of the sun.
“What things are griefs?” the Lady Margot sighed
And moved a little nearer pityingly.
“The wonder wasteth from my days,” he cried,
“The burden of my blessings wearieth me!
Lo I have journeyed from an unoared sea
In the white north to where the winds caress
Warm sail-sown oceans murmuring round a key
Odorous with wine and fruit in fragrant dress——
And yet I passion for some little happiness.”
And moved a little nearer pityingly.
“The wonder wasteth from my days,” he cried,
“The burden of my blessings wearieth me!
Lo I have journeyed from an unoared sea
In the white north to where the winds caress
Warm sail-sown oceans murmuring round a key
Odorous with wine and fruit in fragrant dress——
And yet I passion for some little happiness.”
“Ay, now,” the lady cried, “most strangely come
Are you, Sir Knight, for I am one who longs
As never heart has longed before for some
Strange world, strange tongue tuneful with alien songs,
Strange mad old cities brooding on their wrongs,
With unfamiliar streets which smile and show
Me many a colonnade and portico
Where some unclaimed and starry hour belongs.
O you who know all that I long for—bid me go!”
Are you, Sir Knight, for I am one who longs
As never heart has longed before for some
Strange world, strange tongue tuneful with alien songs,
Strange mad old cities brooding on their wrongs,
With unfamiliar streets which smile and show
Me many a colonnade and portico
Where some unclaimed and starry hour belongs.
O you who know all that I long for—bid me go!”
No strange thing seemed her prayer unto the knight
Who knew her father’s little court by name,
And pitied her that all her beauty bright
Must fail and fade in such confined fame.
Swiftly he knelt to her and with no shame
She gave her hand the while he led her where
Within the close the moon took silvery aim
And lured a sickle bed of bloom to bear
In bloom’s sweet stead a birth of stars pearly as air.
Who knew her father’s little court by name,
And pitied her that all her beauty bright
Must fail and fade in such confined fame.
Swiftly he knelt to her and with no shame
She gave her hand the while he led her where
Within the close the moon took silvery aim
And lured a sickle bed of bloom to bear
In bloom’s sweet stead a birth of stars pearly as air.
The lady stooped and laid her little hand
Upon a dreaming lily whose faint cream
And gold, stirred at the fingers’ soft demand,
Dreamed that the white touch was their sweetest dream.
The lady rose and every opiate beam
Made lucent pillage from her unbound hair
And moths brushed lightly through the saffron stream
In quest of stars. The lady was so fair
That the dusk swooned with passion and the light with prayer.
Upon a dreaming lily whose faint cream
And gold, stirred at the fingers’ soft demand,
Dreamed that the white touch was their sweetest dream.
The lady rose and every opiate beam
Made lucent pillage from her unbound hair
And moths brushed lightly through the saffron stream
In quest of stars. The lady was so fair
That the dusk swooned with passion and the light with prayer.
“Nay, now, my child,” the knight said courteously,
“Would that your joy lay in your castle home,
In phantom folk who pace your broidery,
In haunted parchment of a pictured tome.
But if you are of those whose hearts must roam
Afar afield to meet the hushed advance
Of spheres and win from the blown spray and foam
What weaker some leave to impotent chance
Then, by my blade, that blade shall bring deliverance!”
“Would that your joy lay in your castle home,
In phantom folk who pace your broidery,
In haunted parchment of a pictured tome.
But if you are of those whose hearts must roam
Afar afield to meet the hushed advance
Of spheres and win from the blown spray and foam
What weaker some leave to impotent chance
Then, by my blade, that blade shall bring deliverance!”
A little door, covert in creeping green,
Gave from the court upon the room where lay
The aged doting nurse who wept, I ween,
At all the Lady Margot strove to say.
But when it had proved vain to weep or pray,
She rose and bade her trembling fingers light
Her taper and thereby she led the way
Through secret gates till, soberly bedight,
The three set forth together in the faery night.
Gave from the court upon the room where lay
The aged doting nurse who wept, I ween,
At all the Lady Margot strove to say.
But when it had proved vain to weep or pray,
She rose and bade her trembling fingers light
Her taper and thereby she led the way
Through secret gates till, soberly bedight,
The three set forth together in the faery night.
O many a league for many a day they went,
And some magician kind they were aware
Delivered captive treasuries and spent
His lavish store of beauty everywhere:
Slim brazen towers that taught the sun to share
Its shining he revealed; and odorous gloom
Packing with odours the receiving air;
Flowered silken sails that set the sea abloom;
Isles spread with fabrics from the moon’s high loom.
And some magician kind they were aware
Delivered captive treasuries and spent
His lavish store of beauty everywhere:
Slim brazen towers that taught the sun to share
Its shining he revealed; and odorous gloom
Packing with odours the receiving air;
Flowered silken sails that set the sea abloom;
Isles spread with fabrics from the moon’s high loom.
Sometimes the lady knelt in a fleet prow
That flung the gaudy bubbles from the blue,
And joyed to hear the lean blade of the bow
Plunging the thundering sundered breakers through;
Keen swept the foam-born breaths of salt, to do
Sweet violence to her pale cheek; and all
The spirit of her fancy peopled new
The perilous sea’s impermanent citadel
That kindled into spray with the ship’s rise and fall.
That flung the gaudy bubbles from the blue,
And joyed to hear the lean blade of the bow
Plunging the thundering sundered breakers through;
Keen swept the foam-born breaths of salt, to do
Sweet violence to her pale cheek; and all
The spirit of her fancy peopled new
The perilous sea’s impermanent citadel
That kindled into spray with the ship’s rise and fall.
Sometimes she stepped within a pillared way
Dim grey with shade and honey-bright with sun
Where all the costly stuffs for barter lay,
And she might hear how many a drowsing one,
Stretched on a pea-cock patterned skin, would run
Soft syllable along soft syllable
Praising the violet and vermilion
Of gems and cloths, right eager-tongued to tell
News musical with names to one who loved them well.
Dim grey with shade and honey-bright with sun
Where all the costly stuffs for barter lay,
And she might hear how many a drowsing one,
Stretched on a pea-cock patterned skin, would run
Soft syllable along soft syllable
Praising the violet and vermilion
Of gems and cloths, right eager-tongued to tell
News musical with names to one who loved them well.
Meanwhile the stranger knight was by her side
Burning to serve and welcoming command;
And never wish of hers might be denied
For his swift sword was like a dexterous wand.
And by her side in all that alien land
The old nurse journeyed plaintive and perplexed,
Condemning what she did not understand
And with all other understanding vexed;
Palsied and muttering charms for what should tide them next.
Burning to serve and welcoming command;
And never wish of hers might be denied
For his swift sword was like a dexterous wand.
And by her side in all that alien land
The old nurse journeyed plaintive and perplexed,
Condemning what she did not understand
And with all other understanding vexed;
Palsied and muttering charms for what should tide them next.
Then it befell that as they fared the knight
Forgot his weariness and many a morn
He faced with joy the lottery of light
And walked no more apart in mood forlorn.
And now, her tremulous shyness half outworn,
The Lady Margot oft passed through a town
And saw therein but trinkets to adorn
Her little bodice and her silken gown;
And when he spoke she looked up swiftly and looked down.
Forgot his weariness and many a morn
He faced with joy the lottery of light
And walked no more apart in mood forlorn.
And now, her tremulous shyness half outworn,
The Lady Margot oft passed through a town
And saw therein but trinkets to adorn
Her little bodice and her silken gown;
And when he spoke she looked up swiftly and looked down.
O sweet it was to see the two dream on.
She wistful of the runes that he could teach
Of men and cities dreamed that in such wan
Delights lay life; and he for her sweet speech
With all its faery fancies would beseech
And dreamed that in such fancies lay delight!
And all the time the heart of each for each
Was calling with the ancient urge of night
For night what time the lotus of the dawn is white.
She wistful of the runes that he could teach
Of men and cities dreamed that in such wan
Delights lay life; and he for her sweet speech
With all its faery fancies would beseech
And dreamed that in such fancies lay delight!
And all the time the heart of each for each
Was calling with the ancient urge of night
For night what time the lotus of the dawn is white.
At length they came to a melodious marge
Where with sweet perturbation the moved sea
Crept lovingly about the land in large
Embrace and from such soft nativity
The music mounted in dissolving key
And wed with wind. There in a crescent cove
Sun-lorn and still, the eyes of each leaped free
And all the world in a wild silence strove
To bare its spirit in their breathed words of love.
Where with sweet perturbation the moved sea
Crept lovingly about the land in large
Embrace and from such soft nativity
The music mounted in dissolving key
And wed with wind. There in a crescent cove
Sun-lorn and still, the eyes of each leaped free
And all the world in a wild silence strove
To bare its spirit in their breathed words of love.
“O Sweet, my Sweet,” the knight quoth reverently,
“Lo now the marvel: That I wearied sore
On such a singing earth as this to be
One whom the gods give ever one gift more!
There is no spot from shore to patient shore
That is not burdened with its waiting bliss;
O yet, dear love, how little bliss it bore
Were you not near to tremble at my kiss.
At last we know the truth: The best of life is this.”
“Lo now the marvel: That I wearied sore
On such a singing earth as this to be
One whom the gods give ever one gift more!
There is no spot from shore to patient shore
That is not burdened with its waiting bliss;
O yet, dear love, how little bliss it bore
Were you not near to tremble at my kiss.
At last we know the truth: The best of life is this.”
Slow-dipped the idle sail without the bay
Sun-smitten in the drowsy afternoon;
Unimaged in the ripples’ purple play
White reefs of clouds on airy shores were strewn.
All fairly the shadows fell and soon
When gloaming was poured soft on beach and foam
The sea gave up a silver shell—the moon.
Then tenderly she turned who longed to roam
Afar and whispered: “Love, would that our way led home!”
Sun-smitten in the drowsy afternoon;
Unimaged in the ripples’ purple play
White reefs of clouds on airy shores were strewn.
All fairly the shadows fell and soon
When gloaming was poured soft on beach and foam
The sea gave up a silver shell—the moon.
Then tenderly she turned who longed to roam
Afar and whispered: “Love, would that our way led home!”
Nearby upon a rainbow drift of weeds
The old nurse mumbled at her prayers and charms,
And now her shaking fingers felt her beads,
And now in incantation her old arms
Were raised to shadowy powers. O grim alarms
Beset the gaping ones when love appears!
And never lovers’ glance or kiss half warms
The world but that some dotard nods and leers
And all the charnel souls are tip-toe with their fears.
The old nurse mumbled at her prayers and charms,
And now her shaking fingers felt her beads,
And now in incantation her old arms
Were raised to shadowy powers. O grim alarms
Beset the gaping ones when love appears!
And never lovers’ glance or kiss half warms
The world but that some dotard nods and leers
And all the charnel souls are tip-toe with their fears.
Now silently across the glimmering sands
Slow-paced the lady and the stranger knight,
And there were clinging lips and clinging hands
And all the uses of the hour were bright;
But when they came to where the moon was white
Upon the wet weeds, there the old dame lay
Stark on the sea-moss and the labyrinth light
Received her soul that knew it not. There may
Be heaven for such as mock at love but none can say.
Slow-paced the lady and the stranger knight,
And there were clinging lips and clinging hands
And all the uses of the hour were bright;
But when they came to where the moon was white
Upon the wet weeds, there the old dame lay
Stark on the sea-moss and the labyrinth light
Received her soul that knew it not. There may
Be heaven for such as mock at love but none can say.
Upon the sands the lady knelt and wept;
Her lover kissed away her pitying tears;
“Nay, tender soul,” he said, “we have but kept
The truce of nature with the yester-years.
Now are the old things passed away, and fears
For the new day are vain. Therefore arise.
Love vanquishes the past itself. Love hears
The siren cities chant of home. Love’s eyes
Have lit a sullen world for me to Paradise.”
Her lover kissed away her pitying tears;
“Nay, tender soul,” he said, “we have but kept
The truce of nature with the yester-years.
Now are the old things passed away, and fears
For the new day are vain. Therefore arise.
Love vanquishes the past itself. Love hears
The siren cities chant of home. Love’s eyes
Have lit a sullen world for me to Paradise.”
Into the silver dark the lovers went,
Over the silver sea to golden isles,
Piping their songs of heavenly wonderment
And fabling the unhaunted age with smiles.
And ever with the swift melodious miles
A sterner harmony breathed through their bliss;
“The old shall be outworn. That which reviles
The gods shall perish by their ministries.
But we will walk with truth: The best of life is this.”
Over the silver sea to golden isles,
Piping their songs of heavenly wonderment
And fabling the unhaunted age with smiles.
And ever with the swift melodious miles
A sterner harmony breathed through their bliss;
“The old shall be outworn. That which reviles
The gods shall perish by their ministries.
But we will walk with truth: The best of life is this.”
PART II
I KNOW WHERE A DOVE——
I know where a dove sits brooding in the dark
Nested in leaves the quiet boughs among;
And when the midnight falls I lean to mark
Her home where a star is hung.
The star, it does not know the secret dove,
The dove that firefly planet may not see.
What lovelier things the night may fold from me——
The watching eye, the brooding heart, and love.
Nested in leaves the quiet boughs among;
And when the midnight falls I lean to mark
Her home where a star is hung.
The star, it does not know the secret dove,
The dove that firefly planet may not see.
What lovelier things the night may fold from me——
The watching eye, the brooding heart, and love.
PROLOCUTOR
O for one of the stars to know me,
To say “That is she” as I say “It is there.”
O for my hills to show me
If they care.
But when I speak to them nothing hears me.
Even the bird on the near bough fears me.
The fire on my hearth does not know that it cheers me.
... Heart that waits by the fire, do you guess
All you must voice in your tenderness?
To say “That is she” as I say “It is there.”
O for my hills to show me
If they care.
But when I speak to them nothing hears me.
Even the bird on the near bough fears me.
The fire on my hearth does not know that it cheers me.
... Heart that waits by the fire, do you guess
All you must voice in your tenderness?
WONDER
Here are the shadows veiling green with grey
And winning all the wonder from the light;
Here phantom fragrance swells and fails like sound;
The hour distills itself to dark; the day
Dreams in its grave and lo, the dream is night.
And winning all the wonder from the light;
Here phantom fragrance swells and fails like sound;
The hour distills itself to dark; the day
Dreams in its grave and lo, the dream is night.
A MEETING
I hear a sound like piping and like sails
In silken talk with wind and like the speech
Of someone quiet in the blue of dawn
Upon a quiet beach.
In silken talk with wind and like the speech
Of someone quiet in the blue of dawn
Upon a quiet beach.
I see a light as when the last star
Flowers faintly in the ashen morning sky
And long wings appear and disappear,
Wheeling by.
Flowers faintly in the ashen morning sky
And long wings appear and disappear,
Wheeling by.
I think of moons forgotten with their tides;
I think of all the red of east and west;
I hear the secret stir of nameless dead
Conferring in my breast.
I think of all the red of east and west;
I hear the secret stir of nameless dead
Conferring in my breast.
HALF THOUGHT
EPITAPH
He loved to lie where Summer lay,
His roof a cloud, a bough;
There stretched full-length to dream all day.
It is so with him now.
His roof a cloud, a bough;
There stretched full-length to dream all day.
It is so with him now.
EPITAPH
ALIAS
IN ARVIA’S ROOM
For Her Cradle
I cannot tell you what you ask.
But of my life to be
You who are wise and know your speech,
Tell me.
But of my life to be
You who are wise and know your speech,
Tell me.
For Her Mirror
Look in the deep of me:
What are we going to do?
If I am I, as I am,
Who in the world are you?
What are we going to do?
If I am I, as I am,
Who in the world are you?
For a Comb of Ivory
For Her Doll’s House
Girl doll would be a silken flower and look as real flowers do;
Boy doll would be a telephone and have the world speak through.
The poet doll would like to be the doorbell with a tongue
For other little dolls like bells most sensitively rung.
The paper doll would be a queen, the Dinah doll a star,
And all—how ignominious!—are only what they are.
Boy doll would be a telephone and have the world speak through.
The poet doll would like to be the doorbell with a tongue
For other little dolls like bells most sensitively rung.
The paper doll would be a queen, the Dinah doll a star,
And all—how ignominious!—are only what they are.
For Her Candle-stick
Taper, winnow the world of its angles and where
Were sharp things lay softness, Night-god of the air!
Were sharp things lay softness, Night-god of the air!
For the Chimney-place
For a Flower Pot
Call sweetness into being.
Let it live in me.
The seed, the soil, the sun and I
Work with authority.
Let it live in me.
The seed, the soil, the sun and I
Work with authority.
For the Telephone
I the absurdity
Proving what cannot be.
Come, when you talk with me
Does it become you well
To doubt a miracle?
Proving what cannot be.
Come, when you talk with me
Does it become you well
To doubt a miracle?
Along Her Book-shelf
Lay one hand on us; but keep the other free to touch far things which are not far—tenderly.
Where Boughs Touch the Glass
For Her Window
NON NOBIS
Find me little doors of air,
Let me in and in.
I will come and go all day....
None will miss me from my place
In the room, the porch, the lawn;
And yet I shall have a way
To enter and find quiet.
Let me in and in.
I will come and go all day....
None will miss me from my place
In the room, the porch, the lawn;
And yet I shall have a way
To enter and find quiet.
Knit me in a garment.
Weave me in a spell.
I shall look the same to them.
They will see me in the street
In the shop, the car, the hall,
And yet all the time I shall be my own,
In a place where they do not come.
Weave me in a spell.
I shall look the same to them.
They will see me in the street
In the shop, the car, the hall,
And yet all the time I shall be my own,
In a place where they do not come.
HALF THOUGHT
I saw Fair Yellow in the west,
Fair Yellow in the air,
The sand, the corn, a bird’s breast,
A woman’s hair.
At night
My little room burst into light——
Fair Yellow had come there.
Fair Yellow in the air,
The sand, the corn, a bird’s breast,
A woman’s hair.
At night
My little room burst into light——
Fair Yellow had come there.
Fair Yellow is a being.
For when I said her name
I found a way of seeing
Her as she came.
O how
Do our dull senses fail us now
And leave us in some elemental shame!
For when I said her name
I found a way of seeing
Her as she came.
O how
Do our dull senses fail us now
And leave us in some elemental shame!
UMBRA
The birds of the air are about me
For I am the conjuring one;
How they dip and hover and circle
Through hyaline regions of sun.
For I am the conjuring one;
How they dip and hover and circle
Through hyaline regions of sun.
One has a wing like a petal,
One wears a feather of flame,
Silk and snow is the breast of another
With a word like a flute for a name.
One wears a feather of flame,
Silk and snow is the breast of another
With a word like a flute for a name.
How they sing ... in the morning,
Tilting soft the light beat of their flight;
How their passionate chorales give cadence
Down the ample arcade of the night.
Tilting soft the light beat of their flight;
How their passionate chorales give cadence
Down the ample arcade of the night.
WRAITHS
Who hears the answer when I cry?
O quiet hours and empty blue——
You?
But the echoful air beats back no sigh.
O quiet hours and empty blue——
You?
But the echoful air beats back no sigh.
Who is glad of the love that I give the green?
O haunted hollow in tide of leaves,
Who weaves
Delight of mine on the flowery screen?
O haunted hollow in tide of leaves,
Who weaves
Delight of mine on the flowery screen?