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Title: The Snowflake, and Other Poems
Author: Arthur Weir
Release date: November 28, 2016 [eBook #53623]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOWFLAKE, AND OTHER POEMS ***
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
————
FLEURS DE LYS, and OTHER POEMS
1887, E. M. Renouf, Montreal
————
THE ROMANCE OF SIR RICHARD, SONNETS, and OTHER POEMS
1890, W. Drysdale & Co., Montreal
THE SNOWFLAKE
AND
O T H E R P O E M S
BY
ARTHUR WEIR
MONTREAL:
JOHN LOVELL & SON
1897
Copyrighted, 1896, by Arthur Weir, Montreal.
CONTENTS.
TO
HUGH GRAHAM, Esq.,
TO WHOSE
ENCOURAGEMENT, TASTE AND ENTERPRISE
THE AUTHOR
IS LARGELY INDEBTED
FOR
WHATEVER OF PUBLIC FAVOR HE ENJOYS,
THIS VOLUME
IS
Gratefully Dedicated.
T H E S N O W F L A K E
AND OTHER POEMS.
THE SNOWFLAKE.
Fierce Neptune’s daughter, beneath the water,
In grottoes cool dwelt I,
And, laughing, hid in the seashell’s lid,
As fishes arrowed by.
My feet were free to the undersea;
I played amidst its gloom,
And in the deep where the mermaids weep
Above the hero’s tomb,
Where the sea snake strips dainty maiden lips
Of kisses once so warm,
And the lifeless child, by the eddies wild,
Is torn from the mother’s arm.
The foam-browed billow my head would pillow
Upon its bosom fair,
While the restless sweep of the moon-led deep
Would drift us here and there.
I oft would float in the dainty boat
The Nautilus oared for me,
Out, far, far out, where a noisy rout
Of breakers leapt in glee;
Or further urge to the world’s dim verge,
Where heaven meets the wave,
And the seagull’s wing was the only thing
To follow us was brave.
Then called by the blast, as it glided past,
I would turn and clap my hands,
As the waves were tossed on the tropic coast,
And furrowed the silver sands.
In grottoes cool dwelt I,
And, laughing, hid in the seashell’s lid,
As fishes arrowed by.
My feet were free to the undersea;
I played amidst its gloom,
And in the deep where the mermaids weep
Above the hero’s tomb,
Where the sea snake strips dainty maiden lips
Of kisses once so warm,
And the lifeless child, by the eddies wild,
Is torn from the mother’s arm.
The foam-browed billow my head would pillow
Upon its bosom fair,
While the restless sweep of the moon-led deep
Would drift us here and there.
I oft would float in the dainty boat
The Nautilus oared for me,
Out, far, far out, where a noisy rout
Of breakers leapt in glee;
Or further urge to the world’s dim verge,
Where heaven meets the wave,
And the seagull’s wing was the only thing
To follow us was brave.
Then called by the blast, as it glided past,
I would turn and clap my hands,
As the waves were tossed on the tropic coast,
And furrowed the silver sands.
Where, with weedy locks, the bare limbed rocks
Bend over the foaming sea,
I oft resorted, and, as I sported,
The sunbeams played with me.
We would dance all day in the prismed spray,
Or in the blossoms hide,
That, trembling, clung to the crags and hung
Above the boiling tide.
Oftimes the cool, green depths of a pool
Would lure me down to rest,
Till the sunbeams came in a path of flame
And found me in my nest.
With colors gaily they decked me daily,
And tempted me to fly
Afar from the foam of my ocean home
Aloft in the cloudless sky.
But I said them nay, for the leaping spray,
And cool, green depths of sea,
Than the flight of birds and the sunbeams’ words
Were dearer far to me.
“I had seen,” I said, “to the sky o’erhead
My sisters, laughing, soar
For a merry flight through the azure bright,
And never saw them more.
I love my home in the ocean foam,
I love the moonlit sands,
And I would sigh in the depths of sky
And die in distant lands.”
Bend over the foaming sea,
I oft resorted, and, as I sported,
The sunbeams played with me.
We would dance all day in the prismed spray,
Or in the blossoms hide,
That, trembling, clung to the crags and hung
Above the boiling tide.
Oftimes the cool, green depths of a pool
Would lure me down to rest,
Till the sunbeams came in a path of flame
And found me in my nest.
With colors gaily they decked me daily,
And tempted me to fly
Afar from the foam of my ocean home
Aloft in the cloudless sky.
But I said them nay, for the leaping spray,
And cool, green depths of sea,
Than the flight of birds and the sunbeams’ words
Were dearer far to me.
“I had seen,” I said, “to the sky o’erhead
My sisters, laughing, soar
For a merry flight through the azure bright,
And never saw them more.
I love my home in the ocean foam,
I love the moonlit sands,
And I would sigh in the depths of sky
And die in distant lands.”
But who can prove to the plea of love,
Unyielding and unkind?
At love’s low call we hasten all,
Like leaves at the voice of wind.
And ere the moon at the night’s high noon
Had twelve times orbed grown,
My heart was stirred at a whispered word,
My soul was not mine own.
My lover was fair as the balmy air
That follows after storm,
When the careless sea, with a song of glee,
Trips over the shallows warm.
He was the first through the gloom that burst
To bring the dawn to me,
And he was the last from my sight that passed
When darkness walked the sea.
One shimmering day, as asleep I lay
Upon the tide-worn sand,
He stole apart, with an eager heart,
From all the sunny band.
He came to me, as I lay thought free,
And bent my couch above,
And while I slumbered, with words unnumbered,
He pleaded for my love;
Then as I woke at the words he spoke,
And rising turned to flee,
I was closely pressed to his ardent breast,
And kisses were rained on me.
Unyielding and unkind?
At love’s low call we hasten all,
Like leaves at the voice of wind.
And ere the moon at the night’s high noon
Had twelve times orbed grown,
My heart was stirred at a whispered word,
My soul was not mine own.
My lover was fair as the balmy air
That follows after storm,
When the careless sea, with a song of glee,
Trips over the shallows warm.
He was the first through the gloom that burst
To bring the dawn to me,
And he was the last from my sight that passed
When darkness walked the sea.
One shimmering day, as asleep I lay
Upon the tide-worn sand,
He stole apart, with an eager heart,
From all the sunny band.
He came to me, as I lay thought free,
And bent my couch above,
And while I slumbered, with words unnumbered,
He pleaded for my love;
Then as I woke at the words he spoke,
And rising turned to flee,
I was closely pressed to his ardent breast,
And kisses were rained on me.
“My heart’s own dearest,” he cried, “why fearest
Thou to take flight with me?
Is there aught more fair than the realms of air
In yonder sullen sea?
Is the sea-gull’s scream or the under gleam
Of billows rushing by
More sweet to thee than the melody
Of larks in the azure sky?
Oh, be thou my bride, and side by side
We’ll float upon the breeze
O’er river and town, o’er forest and down,
Wherever we twain shall please.
We’ll swim in the wine of the luscious vine
Which brims the crystal high,
And when of her lover the fond words move her,
We’ll dance in the maiden’s eye.
We’ll scale vast mountains and o’er gay fountains
Hover in noon’s warm glare,
And when night lowers, shall sleep in flowers
That sway in the dewy air.
And shouldst thou tire, nor more desire
The airy plains to roam,
But pine again for the leaping main
And the drench of flying foam,
We need but glide on the leaf-sown tide
Of some swift coursing stream
To our home at last, and the happy past
Shall be but a varied dream.”
Thou to take flight with me?
Is there aught more fair than the realms of air
In yonder sullen sea?
Is the sea-gull’s scream or the under gleam
Of billows rushing by
More sweet to thee than the melody
Of larks in the azure sky?
Oh, be thou my bride, and side by side
We’ll float upon the breeze
O’er river and town, o’er forest and down,
Wherever we twain shall please.
We’ll swim in the wine of the luscious vine
Which brims the crystal high,
And when of her lover the fond words move her,
We’ll dance in the maiden’s eye.
We’ll scale vast mountains and o’er gay fountains
Hover in noon’s warm glare,
And when night lowers, shall sleep in flowers
That sway in the dewy air.
And shouldst thou tire, nor more desire
The airy plains to roam,
But pine again for the leaping main
And the drench of flying foam,
We need but glide on the leaf-sown tide
Of some swift coursing stream
To our home at last, and the happy past
Shall be but a varied dream.”
I could but yield as he thus appealed,
And clasping hand in hand,
With a parting glance at the sea’s expanse,
Dun rocks and silver strand,
We mounted high in the glowing sky,
And, leaving home behind,
Fared swiftly forth to the distant north
Upon the balmy wind.
O’er tangled brakes where the twilight makes
For evermore its home,
And the tiger sleeps and the cobra creeps,
And prowling jackals roam,
We floated fast, till the hills, at last,
To bar our path appeared,
And many a peak its forehead bleak
And tawny flanks upreared.
O’er many a cleft in the rocks bereft
Of life and the sunlight’s sheen,
Wild torrents were hurled to the under world,
And wheeled the eagles keen.
In faltering lines, the famished pines
Pressed up the mountain sides,
And sang to the blast, as it hurried past,
The song of the ocean tides,
Till I yearned once more for the tropic shore
Beside the emerald waves,
And my sisters gay and the dashing spray
And ocean’s weedy caves.
And clasping hand in hand,
With a parting glance at the sea’s expanse,
Dun rocks and silver strand,
We mounted high in the glowing sky,
And, leaving home behind,
Fared swiftly forth to the distant north
Upon the balmy wind.
O’er tangled brakes where the twilight makes
For evermore its home,
And the tiger sleeps and the cobra creeps,
And prowling jackals roam,
We floated fast, till the hills, at last,
To bar our path appeared,
And many a peak its forehead bleak
And tawny flanks upreared.
O’er many a cleft in the rocks bereft
Of life and the sunlight’s sheen,
Wild torrents were hurled to the under world,
And wheeled the eagles keen.
In faltering lines, the famished pines
Pressed up the mountain sides,
And sang to the blast, as it hurried past,
The song of the ocean tides,
Till I yearned once more for the tropic shore
Beside the emerald waves,
And my sisters gay and the dashing spray
And ocean’s weedy caves.
On, on we went, till the distance lent
The hills an azure hue,
And the earth beneath was a naked heath
Where winds in anger blew.
We saw the smoke like a wave that broke
Above the homes of men,
And in the bowers of the meadow flowers
Took rest for flight again.
A myriad sights were a thousand delights
As on through space we sped,
But the happy day soon faded away
And the sun in the west lay dead.
Then the shadows of death with their icy breath
Drew ever more surely nigh,
And in frightened crowds the murky clouds
Swept under the ebon sky.
Afar in the north a fire flamed forth
And flickered with ghastly light,
Like a lamp that burns when a soul returns
To God in the dead of night.
Gloom blotted the hills and the tinkling rills
Were bound in frosty chains,
And the flowers once gay all lifeless lay
Upon the dreary plains.
There was no sound in the air around,
No voice upon earth below,
Save the angry beat of the wild winds’ feet,
That wandered to and fro.
The hills an azure hue,
And the earth beneath was a naked heath
Where winds in anger blew.
We saw the smoke like a wave that broke
Above the homes of men,
And in the bowers of the meadow flowers
Took rest for flight again.
A myriad sights were a thousand delights
As on through space we sped,
But the happy day soon faded away
And the sun in the west lay dead.
Then the shadows of death with their icy breath
Drew ever more surely nigh,
And in frightened crowds the murky clouds
Swept under the ebon sky.
Afar in the north a fire flamed forth
And flickered with ghastly light,
Like a lamp that burns when a soul returns
To God in the dead of night.
Gloom blotted the hills and the tinkling rills
Were bound in frosty chains,
And the flowers once gay all lifeless lay
Upon the dreary plains.
There was no sound in the air around,
No voice upon earth below,
Save the angry beat of the wild winds’ feet,
That wandered to and fro.
In a frenzy of fear, with many a tear,
I clung to my darling’s breast,
For the wintry night with its baleful light
My timorous soul distressed.
“Beloved,” he cried, “sweet sea-nurtured bride,
My love brings sorrow to thee,
For I feel at my heart the pitiless dart
That Death has made keen for me.”
I cried, “There are caves in the amethyst waves
Wherein love may make life sweet,
Oh! haste and return, ere the elements stern
Have beaten us under their feet.”
There was no reply to my passionate cry,
No answering kiss to mine,
And I felt in the storm from my trembling form
My lover’s arms untwine.
All heavy he grew, like a wounded sea mew
That dies in the midmost air,
And fell without sound to the frosty ground,
And lay like a dead bird there.
The tresses of gold on his forehead cold
I parted, and kissed his brow,
But his lips nor smiled at my fondling wild,
His eyes nor knew me now.
And the icy blast, as it thundered past
The hollow wherein he lay,
Tore him apart from my anguished heart,
And carried him away.
I clung to my darling’s breast,
For the wintry night with its baleful light
My timorous soul distressed.
“Beloved,” he cried, “sweet sea-nurtured bride,
My love brings sorrow to thee,
For I feel at my heart the pitiless dart
That Death has made keen for me.”
I cried, “There are caves in the amethyst waves
Wherein love may make life sweet,
Oh! haste and return, ere the elements stern
Have beaten us under their feet.”
There was no reply to my passionate cry,
No answering kiss to mine,
And I felt in the storm from my trembling form
My lover’s arms untwine.
All heavy he grew, like a wounded sea mew
That dies in the midmost air,
And fell without sound to the frosty ground,
And lay like a dead bird there.
The tresses of gold on his forehead cold
I parted, and kissed his brow,
But his lips nor smiled at my fondling wild,
His eyes nor knew me now.
And the icy blast, as it thundered past
The hollow wherein he lay,
Tore him apart from my anguished heart,
And carried him away.
I heard the trees moan in an undertone
As the storm king struck them low,
And the river flood grew still as he stood
And bade it cease to flow.
There was no flower in that sad hour
Had strength to lift its head,
And I was alone in a land unknown
And mourned my love for dead.
Then in countless hosts, like white-robed ghosts,
My sisters lost drew near,
And hemmed me round, but they made no sound
My breaking heart to cheer.
Each wore a star that glittered afar,
Amid her flowing hair,
And they went and came like the lightless flame
That pierced the northern air.
They floated high to the pitiless sky
And gathered on the heath,
Till their myriad feet did mingle and meet,
And hide the earth beneath.
And was it a dream that I should seem
A snowy robe to don,
And tread without pleasure their swift, weird measure,
As the wintry wind piped on.
Methought we flowed through that drear abode
In sheets of spray and foam,
As erst with hope and mirth on the slope
Of waves in our ocean home.
As the storm king struck them low,
And the river flood grew still as he stood
And bade it cease to flow.
There was no flower in that sad hour
Had strength to lift its head,
And I was alone in a land unknown
And mourned my love for dead.
Then in countless hosts, like white-robed ghosts,
My sisters lost drew near,
And hemmed me round, but they made no sound
My breaking heart to cheer.
Each wore a star that glittered afar,
Amid her flowing hair,
And they went and came like the lightless flame
That pierced the northern air.
They floated high to the pitiless sky
And gathered on the heath,
Till their myriad feet did mingle and meet,
And hide the earth beneath.
And was it a dream that I should seem
A snowy robe to don,
And tread without pleasure their swift, weird measure,
As the wintry wind piped on.
Methought we flowed through that drear abode
In sheets of spray and foam,
As erst with hope and mirth on the slope
Of waves in our ocean home.
Then many a day in a trance I lay
Upon the dreary plain,
Till, at last, I heard the pipe of a bird,
And my heart grew warm again.
At the bird’s sweet call through night’s thick pall
The faint sun peered and shone,
As of yore at home through the flying foam
He looked from the gates of dawn.
He looked and smiled, and the air, beguiled,
Grew warm and bright again,
And my sisters all each to each did call,
As erst in the joyous main.
Like the leaping rills from the sunny hills
That tinkle to the sea,
They sang as they glanced in the sun and danced
On the rivers rushing free.
The flowers awoke from their sleep, and broke
With many an emerald spear
And banner bright to the warm sunlight
Through the leaves of the bygone year.
And one with a crown of gold bent down
And took me to its heart,
“Poor waif of the storm,” it said, “grow warm
And share of my joy a part.
In the sky above there are many will love
A heart as pure as thine;
Leave grief with the past, like the shadow we cast
As we hasten where sunbeams shine.”
Upon the dreary plain,
Till, at last, I heard the pipe of a bird,
And my heart grew warm again.
At the bird’s sweet call through night’s thick pall
The faint sun peered and shone,
As of yore at home through the flying foam
He looked from the gates of dawn.
He looked and smiled, and the air, beguiled,
Grew warm and bright again,
And my sisters all each to each did call,
As erst in the joyous main.
Like the leaping rills from the sunny hills
That tinkle to the sea,
They sang as they glanced in the sun and danced
On the rivers rushing free.
The flowers awoke from their sleep, and broke
With many an emerald spear
And banner bright to the warm sunlight
Through the leaves of the bygone year.
And one with a crown of gold bent down
And took me to its heart,
“Poor waif of the storm,” it said, “grow warm
And share of my joy a part.
In the sky above there are many will love
A heart as pure as thine;
Leave grief with the past, like the shadow we cast
As we hasten where sunbeams shine.”
I dwelt in the bower of the generous flower
For many a quiet day,
Till, on soft winds blown, the seeds were sown;
And then I wandered away.
For sake of my love, the sun above
Upraised me to the sky,
And east and west I went on my quest,
But my dear one found not I.
Oft I heard from brooks in shadowy nooks
My sisters call to me
To join their throng as they drifted along,
Seeking the distant sea.
And hearing their lays in the woodland ways
Through autumn’s golden air,
A yearning came that I could not name,
Stronger than my despair.
“If I must live on when my love is gone,”
I murmured to my soul,
“Oh, let it be by the throbbing sea
My sisters make their goal.
There let me rest like a child on the breast,
Close to its great warm heart,
Till my sorrows cease and I am at peace,
O lover, where thou art.”
So I sought the brook, and the sky forsook,
And reached the sea at last,
In whose briny waves and weedy caves
I brood upon the past.
For many a quiet day,
Till, on soft winds blown, the seeds were sown;
And then I wandered away.
For sake of my love, the sun above
Upraised me to the sky,
And east and west I went on my quest,
But my dear one found not I.
Oft I heard from brooks in shadowy nooks
My sisters call to me
To join their throng as they drifted along,
Seeking the distant sea.
And hearing their lays in the woodland ways
Through autumn’s golden air,
A yearning came that I could not name,
Stronger than my despair.
“If I must live on when my love is gone,”
I murmured to my soul,
“Oh, let it be by the throbbing sea
My sisters make their goal.
There let me rest like a child on the breast,
Close to its great warm heart,
Till my sorrows cease and I am at peace,
O lover, where thou art.”
So I sought the brook, and the sky forsook,
And reached the sea at last,
In whose briny waves and weedy caves
I brood upon the past.
THE MASQUE OF THE YEAR.
(Time is discovered seated in the midst of a bevy of maidens, each of whom represents a month.)
TIME.
Behold me, Time, inexorable Time,
Twin brother of Death. Like him all hearts I tame.
As babes with baubles play, so I with fame.
I weigh all deeds, judge every poet’s rhyme,
Sift heroes, smile at life’s quaint pantomime,
Put down the present great, and oft reclaim
From sad oblivion some forgotten name,
Uplifting it to heights that are sublime.
I sit, amid the months, upon my throne,
Waiting to greet the New Year drawing nigh,
And though it brings a destiny unknown,
Naught need ye fear, since God is in the sky.
Fate is God’s choice; be therefore of good cheer.
Let mirth and song welcome each new crowned year.
Twin brother of Death. Like him all hearts I tame.
As babes with baubles play, so I with fame.
I weigh all deeds, judge every poet’s rhyme,
Sift heroes, smile at life’s quaint pantomime,
Put down the present great, and oft reclaim
From sad oblivion some forgotten name,
Uplifting it to heights that are sublime.
I sit, amid the months, upon my throne,
Waiting to greet the New Year drawing nigh,
And though it brings a destiny unknown,
Naught need ye fear, since God is in the sky.
Fate is God’s choice; be therefore of good cheer.
Let mirth and song welcome each new crowned year.
JANUARY.
Far have I come, out of darkness, from chaos,
The land of the future, dread realm unknown,
Out of silence, alone.
I have trodden the ice-fields of drear Baccalaos,
Heard the grinding of bergs in the seas of the north
As the gale urged them forth,
And at midday have looked on the sun’s feeble glory
With a smile of disdain, for the warmth that he felt
Ne’er my bosom could melt.
Death and stillness are mine, and, save wolves on a foray,
All is still, all is shrouded, all Nature’s asleep,
Under snow hidden deep.
I am the ruler of uncreate chaos,
Queen of absolute void, which life comes not anear—
First month of the year.
The land of the future, dread realm unknown,
Out of silence, alone.
I have trodden the ice-fields of drear Baccalaos,
Heard the grinding of bergs in the seas of the north
As the gale urged them forth,
And at midday have looked on the sun’s feeble glory
With a smile of disdain, for the warmth that he felt
Ne’er my bosom could melt.
Death and stillness are mine, and, save wolves on a foray,
All is still, all is shrouded, all Nature’s asleep,
Under snow hidden deep.
I am the ruler of uncreate chaos,
Queen of absolute void, which life comes not anear—
First month of the year.
FEBRUARY.
I am the month of beginnings. I bear
In my bosom the seed of all changes to come.
As yet I am dumb,
But Hope has been born in the breast of Despair.
The pine boughs stir under their burden of snow,
As though promise they know,
Yet the sun shines no stronger, there’s naught that foretells
The coming of summer. No song of a bird
In the woodland is heard,
Not a sound, save the stroke of the axe, as it fells
Some wood king, whose form sinks beneath the keen blade,
With a crash, through the glade;
Yet the spirit of Nature’s awake, and the air
Thrills with love. I soothe grief with my wonderful balm,
Second month that I am.
In my bosom the seed of all changes to come.
As yet I am dumb,
But Hope has been born in the breast of Despair.
The pine boughs stir under their burden of snow,
As though promise they know,
Yet the sun shines no stronger, there’s naught that foretells
The coming of summer. No song of a bird
In the woodland is heard,
Not a sound, save the stroke of the axe, as it fells
Some wood king, whose form sinks beneath the keen blade,
With a crash, through the glade;
Yet the spirit of Nature’s awake, and the air
Thrills with love. I soothe grief with my wonderful balm,
Second month that I am.