No windy white of wind-blown clouds is thine,
No windy white but low and sodden gray,
That holds the melancholy skies and kills
The wild song and the wild bird; yet, ai me!
Thy melancholy skies and mournful woods,
Brown, sighing forests dying that I love!
Thy long thick leaves deep, deep about my feet,
Slow, weary feet that halt or falter on;
Thy long, sweet, reddened leaves that burn and die
With silent fever of the sickened wold.
No windy white but low and sodden gray,
That holds the melancholy skies and kills
The wild song and the wild bird; yet, ai me!
Thy melancholy skies and mournful woods,
Brown, sighing forests dying that I love!
Thy long thick leaves deep, deep about my feet,
Slow, weary feet that halt or falter on;
Thy long, sweet, reddened leaves that burn and die
With silent fever of the sickened wold.
I love to hear in all thy windy coigns,
Rain-wet and choked with bleached and rotting weeds,
The baby-babble of the many leaves,
That, fallen on barren ways, like fallen hopes
Once held so high on all the Summer's heart
Of strong majestic trees, now come to such,
Would fainly gossip in hushed undertones,—
Sad weak yet sweet as natures that have known
True tears and hot in bleak remorseless days,—
Of all their whilom glory vanished so.
Rain-wet and choked with bleached and rotting weeds,
The baby-babble of the many leaves,
That, fallen on barren ways, like fallen hopes
Once held so high on all the Summer's heart
Of strong majestic trees, now come to such,
Would fainly gossip in hushed undertones,—
Sad weak yet sweet as natures that have known
True tears and hot in bleak remorseless days,—
Of all their whilom glory vanished so.
A CHARACTER.
He lived beyond us and we stood
As pygmies to his every mood,
Mere pupils at his beck and nod,
That spoke the influence of a god.
And oft we wondered, when his thought
Made our humanity seem naught,
If he, like Uther's mystic son,
Were not a birth for Avalon.
As pygmies to his every mood,
Mere pupils at his beck and nod,
That spoke the influence of a god.
And oft we wondered, when his thought
Made our humanity seem naught,
If he, like Uther's mystic son,
Were not a birth for Avalon.
When wand'ring 'neath the sighing trees,
His soul waxed genial with the breeze,
That, voiceful, from the piney glades
Companioned seemed of Oreads;
A Dryad life lived in each oak,
And with its many leaf-tongues spoke,
Glorying the deity whose power
Gave it its life in sun and shower.
By every violet-hallowed brook,
Where every bramble-matted nook
Rippled and laughed with water-sounds,
He walked as one on sainted grounds,
Fearing intrusion on the spell
That kept some fountain-spirit's well,
Or woodland genius sitting where
Brown racy berries kissed his hair.
His soul waxed genial with the breeze,
That, voiceful, from the piney glades
Companioned seemed of Oreads;
A Dryad life lived in each oak,
And with its many leaf-tongues spoke,
Glorying the deity whose power
Gave it its life in sun and shower.
By every violet-hallowed brook,
Where every bramble-matted nook
Rippled and laughed with water-sounds,
He walked as one on sainted grounds,
Fearing intrusion on the spell
That kept some fountain-spirit's well,
Or woodland genius sitting where
Brown racy berries kissed his hair.
And when the wind far o'er the hill
Had fall'n and left the wildwood still
As moonlight jets on quiet moss,—
Beneath the pied boughs arched across
Long limpid vistas, brimmed with ripe
Green-swimming sunbeams, heard the pipe
Of some hid follower of Pan
And worshiper, half brute half man;
Who, hairy-haunched, a savage rhyme
Puffed in his reed to rudest time;
With swollen jowl and rolling eye
Danced boisterous where the silver sky
Smiled in the forest's broken roof;
The strident branch beneath his hoof
Snapped on the sod which, interfused
Between black roots, was crushed and bruised.
Had fall'n and left the wildwood still
As moonlight jets on quiet moss,—
Beneath the pied boughs arched across
Long limpid vistas, brimmed with ripe
Green-swimming sunbeams, heard the pipe
Of some hid follower of Pan
And worshiper, half brute half man;
Who, hairy-haunched, a savage rhyme
Puffed in his reed to rudest time;
With swollen jowl and rolling eye
Danced boisterous where the silver sky
Smiled in the forest's broken roof;
The strident branch beneath his hoof
Snapped on the sod which, interfused
Between black roots, was crushed and bruised.
And often when he wandered through
Old forests at the fall of dew,—
A lone Endymion who sought
A higher beauty yet uncaught,—
Some night, we thought, most surely he
Were favored of her deity,
And in the holy solitude
Her sudden presence, long pursued,
Unto his eyes would be confessed;
The awful moonlight of her breast
Come high with majesty and hold
His heart's blood till his heart were cold,
Unpulsed, unsinewed, all undone,
And snatch his soul to Avalon.
Old forests at the fall of dew,—
A lone Endymion who sought
A higher beauty yet uncaught,—
Some night, we thought, most surely he
Were favored of her deity,
And in the holy solitude
Her sudden presence, long pursued,
Unto his eyes would be confessed;
The awful moonlight of her breast
Come high with majesty and hold
His heart's blood till his heart were cold,
Unpulsed, unsinewed, all undone,
And snatch his soul to Avalon.
A MOOD.
Bowed hearts that hold the saddest memories
Are the most beautiful; and such make sweet
Light happy moods of alien natures which
Their sadness contacts, and so sanctifies.
Are the most beautiful; and such make sweet
Light happy moods of alien natures which
Their sadness contacts, and so sanctifies.
And such to me is an old, gabled house,
Deserted and neglected and unknown
Within the dreamy hollow of its hills,
Dark, cedared hills and fruitless orchards sear;
With but its host of shrouded memories
Haunting its low and desolate rooms and halls,
Its roomy hearths and cob-webbed crevices.
Deserted and neglected and unknown
Within the dreamy hollow of its hills,
Dark, cedared hills and fruitless orchards sear;
With but its host of shrouded memories
Haunting its low and desolate rooms and halls,
Its roomy hearths and cob-webbed crevices.
Here in dim rainy noons I love to sit,
And hear the running rain along the roof,
The creak and crack of noises that are born
Of unseen and mysterious agencies;
The dripping footfalls of the wind adown
Lone winding stairways massy-banistered;
A clapping door and then a sudden hush
That brings a pleasant terror stiffening through
The tingling veins and staring from the eyes.
Then comes the running rain along the roof's
Rain-rotten gables and on rain-stained walls
Invokes vague images and memories
Of all its sometime lords and mistresses,
Until the stale material will assume
All that's clairvoyant, and the fine-strung ear
In quaint far rooms or dusty corridors
Hear wrinkled ladies all beruffled trail
Long haughty silks "miraculously stiff."
And hear the running rain along the roof,
The creak and crack of noises that are born
Of unseen and mysterious agencies;
The dripping footfalls of the wind adown
Lone winding stairways massy-banistered;
A clapping door and then a sudden hush
That brings a pleasant terror stiffening through
The tingling veins and staring from the eyes.
Then comes the running rain along the roof's
Rain-rotten gables and on rain-stained walls
Invokes vague images and memories
Of all its sometime lords and mistresses,
Until the stale material will assume
All that's clairvoyant, and the fine-strung ear
In quaint far rooms or dusty corridors
Hear wrinkled ladies all beruffled trail
Long haughty silks "miraculously stiff."
A THOUGHT.
And I have thought of youth which strains
Nearer its God to rise,—
What were ambition and its pains
Were life a cowardice!
Nearer its God to rise,—
What were ambition and its pains
Were life a cowardice!
The grander souls that rose above
Thought's noblest heights to tread,
Found their endeavor in their love,
And truth behind the dead.
Thought's noblest heights to tread,
Found their endeavor in their love,
And truth behind the dead.
A secret glory in the tomb,
A night that dawns in light,
An intense presence veiled with gloom,
And not an endless night....
A night that dawns in light,
An intense presence veiled with gloom,
And not an endless night....
Nepenthe of this struggling world,
Thou who dost stay mad Care
When her fury's scourge above is curled
And we see her writhing hair!
Thou who dost stay mad Care
When her fury's scourge above is curled
And we see her writhing hair!
SONG.
I
Far over the summer sea,
Ere the white-eyed stars wax pale,
From the groves where a nightingale
Wails a mystical melody,
I turn my ghostly sail
Away, away,
To follow a face I see
Far over the summer sea.
Ere the white-eyed stars wax pale,
From the groves where a nightingale
Wails a mystical melody,
I turn my ghostly sail
Away, away,
To follow a face I see
Far over the summer sea.
II
Far over the summer sea,
Ere the cliff which highest soars
From the foam re-echoing shores
Reddens all rosily,
Where the witch-white water roars,
Far on, far on,
Thro' the night I follow thee
Far over the summer sea.
Ere the cliff which highest soars
From the foam re-echoing shores
Reddens all rosily,
Where the witch-white water roars,
Far on, far on,
Thro' the night I follow thee
Far over the summer sea.
III
Far over the summer sea,
When the great gold moon low lies
In the purple-deepened skies
I drift on tearfully
Till a spirit form doth rise
Low down, low down,
'Twixt the orbèd moon and me
Far over the summer sea.
When the great gold moon low lies
In the purple-deepened skies
I drift on tearfully
Till a spirit form doth rise
Low down, low down,
'Twixt the orbèd moon and me
Far over the summer sea.
IV
Far over the summer sea
With thy foam-cold limbs wound sweet
'Round hair and throat and feet
To slay me utterly;
At each mad, hot heart beat
A kiss, a kiss,
To drain the soul with thee,
Deep, deep in the summer sea.
With thy foam-cold limbs wound sweet
'Round hair and throat and feet
To slay me utterly;
At each mad, hot heart beat
A kiss, a kiss,
To drain the soul with thee,
Deep, deep in the summer sea.
FACE TO FACE.
Dead! and all the haughty fate
Fair on throat and face of wax,
White, calm hands crossed still and lax,
Cold, impassionate!
Fair on throat and face of wax,
White, calm hands crossed still and lax,
Cold, impassionate!
Dead! and no word whispered low
At the dull ear now could wake
One responsive chord or make
One wan temple glow.
At the dull ear now could wake
One responsive chord or make
One wan temple glow.
Dead! and no hot tear would stir
All that woman sweet and fair,
Woman soul from feet to hair
Which was once of her.
All that woman sweet and fair,
Woman soul from feet to hair
Which was once of her.
God! and thus to die! and I—
I must live though life be but
One long, hard, monotonous rut,
There to plod and—die!
I must live though life be but
One long, hard, monotonous rut,
There to plod and—die!
Creeds are well in such a case;
But no sermon could have wrought
More of faith than you have taught
With your pale, dead face.
But no sermon could have wrought
More of faith than you have taught
With your pale, dead face.
And I see it as you see—
One mistake, so very small!
Yet so great it mangled all,
Left you this and me!
One mistake, so very small!
Yet so great it mangled all,
Left you this and me!
Oft I pondered saying, "Sure
She could never live such life!"
And the truth stabbed like a knife
When I found you pure.
She could never live such life!"
And the truth stabbed like a knife
When I found you pure.
Pure, so pure! and me bemoiled,
Loathly as loathed vermin, just
As weak souls are left of lust—
Loveless, low, and soiled.
Loathly as loathed vermin, just
As weak souls are left of lust—
Loveless, low, and soiled.
Nay! I loved you then and love!—
Grand, great eyes, I see them yet,
Set like luminous gems of jet
In wax lids above.
Grand, great eyes, I see them yet,
Set like luminous gems of jet
In wax lids above.
Lips—O poor, dumb, chideless lips!
Once as red as life could make,
Moist as wan wild roses wake
When the wild dew drips.
Once as red as life could make,
Moist as wan wild roses wake
When the wild dew drips.
Hair—imperial, full, and warm
As a Grace's, where one stone
Precious lay ensnared and shone
Like a star in storm.
As a Grace's, where one stone
Precious lay ensnared and shone
Like a star in storm.
Eyes—at parting big with pain;
God! I see them and the tear
In them—big as eyes of deer
Led by lights and slain!
God! I see them and the tear
In them—big as eyes of deer
Led by lights and slain!
Life so true! I falsely cursed—
Lips that, curled with scorn and pride,
Hurt me though I said they lied,
While the true heart burst.
Lips that, curled with scorn and pride,
Hurt me though I said they lied,
While the true heart burst.
Rest! my heart has suffered too:
And this life had woe enough
For the little dole of love
Given to me and you.
And this life had woe enough
For the little dole of love
Given to me and you.
Can you hear me? can you know
What I am and how it came,
You, beyond me like a flame,
You, before me like the snow!
What I am and how it came,
You, beyond me like a flame,
You, before me like the snow!
Dead! and all my heart a cup
Hollowed for sad, bitter tears,
Bitter in the bitter years
Slowly brimming up.
Hollowed for sad, bitter tears,
Bitter in the bitter years
Slowly brimming up.
Sleep! 'tis well! but might have been
Better!—yes, God knows it might!
Better for me in His sight
And my soul more clean.
Better!—yes, God knows it might!
Better for me in His sight
And my soul more clean.
Sleep in very peace! but I
With Earth's other fools will stay,
Live 'mid laughter, day by day
Mocking laugh and—die.
With Earth's other fools will stay,
Live 'mid laughter, day by day
Mocking laugh and—die.
You will know me now, I know,
But in life had never known
How, indeed, I was alone—
But, 'tis better so.
But in life had never known
How, indeed, I was alone—
But, 'tis better so.
And I know you what you were,
Faithful and—it were no use,
Only to yourself abuse,—
I shall tell you there.
Faithful and—it were no use,
Only to yourself abuse,—
I shall tell you there.
There beyond the lightning and
The long clouds and utter skies,
Moons and suns and stars that rise,
Where we'll understand.
The long clouds and utter skies,
Moons and suns and stars that rise,
Where we'll understand.
THE CHANGELING.
I
There were Faëries two or three,
And a high moon white as wool,
Or a bloom in Faëry,
Where the star-thick blossoms be
Star-like beautiful.
And a high moon white as wool,
Or a bloom in Faëry,
Where the star-thick blossoms be
Star-like beautiful.
II
There were Faëries two or three,
And a wind as fragrant as
Spicy wafts from Arcady
Rocked the sleeping honey bee
In the clover grass.
And a wind as fragrant as
Spicy wafts from Arcady
Rocked the sleeping honey bee
In the clover grass.
III
There were Faëries two or three,
Wee white caps and red wee shoon,
Buckles at each dainty knee,
"We are come to comfort thee,
With the silver moon."
Wee white caps and red wee shoon,
Buckles at each dainty knee,
"We are come to comfort thee,
With the silver moon."
IV
There were Faëries two or three,
Buttercups brimmed up with dew,
Winning faces sweet to see,
Then mine eyes closed heavily:
"Faëries, what would you?"
Buttercups brimmed up with dew,
Winning faces sweet to see,
Then mine eyes closed heavily:
"Faëries, what would you?"
V
There were Faëries two or three,
And my babe was dreaming deep,
White as whitest ivory,
In its crib of ebony
Rocked and crooned on sleep.
And my babe was dreaming deep,
White as whitest ivory,
In its crib of ebony
Rocked and crooned on sleep.
VI
There were Faëries two or three
Standing in the mocking moon,
And mine eyes closed drowsily,
Drowsily and suddenly
There my babe was gone.
Standing in the mocking moon,
And mine eyes closed drowsily,
Drowsily and suddenly
There my babe was gone.
VII
Now no Faëries two or three
Loitered in the moon alone;
Jesu, Marie, comfort me!
What is this instead I see—
Ugly skin and bone.
Loitered in the moon alone;
Jesu, Marie, comfort me!
What is this instead I see—
Ugly skin and bone.
VIII
There were Faëries two or three
Stood with buckles on red shoon,
But with evil sorcery
My sweet babe to Faëry
They did steal right soon.
Stood with buckles on red shoon,
But with evil sorcery
My sweet babe to Faëry
They did steal right soon.
ST. JOHN'S EVE.
I
Dizzily round
On the elf-hills white in the yellow moonlight
To a sweet, unholy, ravishing sound
Of wizard voices from underground,
Their mazy dance the Elle-maids wound
On St. John's Eve.
On the elf-hills white in the yellow moonlight
To a sweet, unholy, ravishing sound
Of wizard voices from underground,
Their mazy dance the Elle-maids wound
On St. John's Eve.
II
Beautiful white,
Like a wreath of mist by the starbeams kissed;
And frail, sweet faces bloomed out on the night
From floating tresses of glow-worm light,
That puffed like foam to the left and the right
On St. John's Eve.
Like a wreath of mist by the starbeams kissed;
And frail, sweet faces bloomed out on the night
From floating tresses of glow-worm light,
That puffed like foam to the left and the right
On St. John's Eve.
III
Warily there
They flashed like a rill which the moonbeams fill,
But I saw what a mockery all of them were
With their hollow bodies, when the moonlit air
Rayed out through their eyes with a sudden glare
On St. John's Eve.
They flashed like a rill which the moonbeams fill,
But I saw what a mockery all of them were
With their hollow bodies, when the moonlit air
Rayed out through their eyes with a sudden glare
On St. John's Eve.
IV
Solemnly sweet,
By the river's banks in the rushes' ranks,
The Necks their sorrowful songs repeat:
A music of winds over dipping wheat,
Of moss-dulled cascades seemed to meet
On St. John's Eve.
By the river's banks in the rushes' ranks,
The Necks their sorrowful songs repeat:
A music of winds over dipping wheat,
Of moss-dulled cascades seemed to meet
On St. John's Eve.
V
Drowsily swam
The fire-flies fleet in eddies of heat;
Through the willows a glimmer of gold harps came,
And I saw their hair like a misty flame
Bunched over white brows, too white to name,
On St. John's Eve.
The fire-flies fleet in eddies of heat;
Through the willows a glimmer of gold harps came,
And I saw their hair like a misty flame
Bunched over white brows, too white to name,
On St. John's Eve.
VI
Beggarly torn,
A wizen chap in a red-peaked cap,
All gray with the chaff and dust of the corn,
And strong with the pungent scent of the barn,
The Nis scowled under the flowering thorn
On St. John's Eve.
A wizen chap in a red-peaked cap,
All gray with the chaff and dust of the corn,
And strong with the pungent scent of the barn,
The Nis scowled under the flowering thorn
On St. John's Eve.
VII
Merrily call
The singing crickets in the twinkling thickets,
And the Troll hill rose on pillars tall,
Crimson pillars that ranked a hall
Where the beak-nosed Trolls were holding a ball
On St. John's Eve.
The singing crickets in the twinkling thickets,
And the Troll hill rose on pillars tall,
Crimson pillars that ranked a hall
Where the beak-nosed Trolls were holding a ball
On St. John's Eve.
VIII
Reveling flew
From beakers of gold the wassail old;
And she reached me a goblet brimmed bright with dew—
But her wily witcheries well I knew,
And the philtre over my shoulder threw
On St. John's Eve.
From beakers of gold the wassail old;
And she reached me a goblet brimmed bright with dew—
But her wily witcheries well I knew,
And the philtre over my shoulder threw
On St. John's Eve.
LALAGE.
What were sweet life without her
Who maketh all things sweet
With smiles that dream about her,
With dreams that come and fleet!
Soft moods that end in languor;
Soft words that end in sighs;
Curved frownings as of anger;
Cold silence of her eyes.
Who maketh all things sweet
With smiles that dream about her,
With dreams that come and fleet!
Soft moods that end in languor;
Soft words that end in sighs;
Curved frownings as of anger;
Cold silence of her eyes.
Sweet eyes born but for slaying,
Deep violet-dark and lost
In dreams of whilom Maying
In climes unstung of frost.
Wild eyes shot through with fire
God's light in godless years,
Brimmed wine-dark with desire,
A birth for dreams and tears.
Deep violet-dark and lost
In dreams of whilom Maying
In climes unstung of frost.
Wild eyes shot through with fire
God's light in godless years,
Brimmed wine-dark with desire,
A birth for dreams and tears.
Dear tears as sweet as laughter,
Low laughter sweet as love
Unwound in ripples after
Sad tears we knew not of.
What if the day be lawless,
What if the heart be dead,
Such tears would make it flawless,
Such laughter make it red.
Low laughter sweet as love
Unwound in ripples after
Sad tears we knew not of.
What if the day be lawless,
What if the heart be dead,
Such tears would make it flawless,
Such laughter make it red.
Lips that were curled for kisses,
For loves and hates and scorns,
Brows under gold of tresses,
Brows beauteous as the Morn's.
Imperial locks and tangled
Down to the graceful hips;
Hair where one might be strangled
Carousing on thy lips.
For loves and hates and scorns,
Brows under gold of tresses,
Brows beauteous as the Morn's.
Imperial locks and tangled
Down to the graceful hips;
Hair where one might be strangled
Carousing on thy lips.
Rose-lovely lips that hover
About the honeyed words,
That slip wild bees from clover
Whose sweets their sweet affords.
Though days be robbed of sunlight,
White teeth make light thereof;
Though nights unknown of onelight,
Thine eyes were stars enough.
About the honeyed words,
That slip wild bees from clover
Whose sweets their sweet affords.
Though days be robbed of sunlight,
White teeth make light thereof;
Though nights unknown of onelight,
Thine eyes were stars enough.
Ah, lily-lovely features,
Round temples, throat, and chin,
Sweet gods of godless natures,
Sweet love of loveless men!
Still moods and slumberous fanned on
To dreams that rock to sleep,
Unmerciful abandon,
That haunts or makes one weep.
Round temples, throat, and chin,
Sweet gods of godless natures,
Sweet love of loveless men!
Still moods and slumberous fanned on
To dreams that rock to sleep,
Unmerciful abandon,
That haunts or makes one weep.
She walks as if with sorrows
And all unknown of joy;
Eyes fixed on dim to-morrows
That all sad feet decoy.
Yet she, a peer of pleasures,
Tears from Time's taloned hand
The hour-glass he treasures,
And wastes its sullen sand.
And all unknown of joy;
Eyes fixed on dim to-morrows
That all sad feet decoy.
Yet she, a peer of pleasures,
Tears from Time's taloned hand
The hour-glass he treasures,
And wastes its sullen sand.
Makes of all hours a beaker
Brimmed full of lordly wine,
Cold gold of Life's mad liquor,
And quaffs to me and mine.
The love on lips grows fairer,
Keen lights in eyes make wars,
And throat and breast grow rarer
Than the white-throated stars.
Brimmed full of lordly wine,
Cold gold of Life's mad liquor,
And quaffs to me and mine.
The love on lips grows fairer,
Keen lights in eyes make wars,
And throat and breast grow rarer
Than the white-throated stars.
Fleet smiles come fleet and faster
And web the willing soul;
Warm breasts of alabaster
Have snared it as a whole.
What then were hell or heaven,
The fear of heaven or hell!
Lost in the life thus given
We well might bid farewell.
And web the willing soul;
Warm breasts of alabaster
Have snared it as a whole.
What then were hell or heaven,
The fear of heaven or hell!
Lost in the life thus given
We well might bid farewell.
To leap against thy bosoms!
Live at thy ardent throat!
Kiss clinging to its blossoms,
Die kissing and not know't!
Wound in tumultuous tresses
Pulse like a naked hair,
Held in long hands for kisses,
And killed and never care.
Live at thy ardent throat!
Kiss clinging to its blossoms,
Die kissing and not know't!
Wound in tumultuous tresses
Pulse like a naked hair,
Held in long hands for kisses,
And killed and never care.
Clasped limb and marble member,
Long raven hair with gold,
To dream, forget, remember,
Grow slowly still and cold.
Feel earth and hell forever
Remote from thee and me,
Nor strong enough to sever
Through all eternity.
Long raven hair with gold,
To dream, forget, remember,
Grow slowly still and cold.
Feel earth and hell forever
Remote from thee and me,
Nor strong enough to sever
Through all eternity.
Feel godlike power for evil
High throned within the heart,
Should God and hell's arch devil
Cast dice our souls to part:
Part eyes hot as a jewel,
Part covering deeps of curl,
Sweet lips as sweet as cruel,
And limbs of living pearl.
High throned within the heart,
Should God and hell's arch devil
Cast dice our souls to part:
Part eyes hot as a jewel,
Part covering deeps of curl,
Sweet lips as sweet as cruel,
And limbs of living pearl.
What if in the hereafter
Our love must weep farewell
'Mid the hoarse, strident laughter
Of devils deep in hell;
We'll know that all infernal,
All cactus-growth of time,
Slays not that hour eternal
That sinned with love to crime.
Our love must weep farewell
'Mid the hoarse, strident laughter
Of devils deep in hell;
We'll know that all infernal,
All cactus-growth of time,
Slays not that hour eternal
That sinned with love to crime.
Love, we could live all tearless,
Remember and have breath,
Of hell and heaven fearless
In love more strong than death.
When hope shall be forgotten
And death be one with both,
Flesh, soul, and spirit rotten
And wrapped with clay in sloth.
Remember and have breath,
Of hell and heaven fearless
In love more strong than death.
When hope shall be forgotten
And death be one with both,
Flesh, soul, and spirit rotten
And wrapped with clay in sloth.
MIRIAM.
White clouds and buds and birds and bees,
Low wind-notes piped from southern seas,
Brought thee a rose-white offering,
A flower-like baby with the Spring.
Low wind-notes piped from southern seas,
Brought thee a rose-white offering,
A flower-like baby with the Spring.
She, as her April, gave to thee
A soul of winsome vagary;
Large, heavenly eyes, and tender, whence
Shone the sweet mind's soft influence;
Where all the winning woman, that
Welled up in tears, high sparkling sat.
A soul of winsome vagary;
Large, heavenly eyes, and tender, whence
Shone the sweet mind's soft influence;
Where all the winning woman, that
Welled up in tears, high sparkling sat.
She, with the dower of her May,
Gave thee a nature that could sway
Wild men with kindness, and a pride
Which all their littleness denied.
Gave thee a nature that could sway
Wild men with kindness, and a pride
Which all their littleness denied.
Limbs wrought of lilies and a face
Bright as a rose flower's, and a grace,
God-taught, that clings like happiness
In each chaste billow of thy dress.
Bright as a rose flower's, and a grace,
God-taught, that clings like happiness
In each chaste billow of thy dress.
She, as her heavy June, brought down
Night deeps of hair thy brow to crown;
A voice so mild and musical
It is as water-notes that fall
O'er bars of pearl, and in thy heart
Stamped like a jewel, that should start
From thy pure face in smiles, and break
Like radiance when it laughed or spake,
Affection that is born of truth
And goodness which make very youth.
Night deeps of hair thy brow to crown;
A voice so mild and musical
It is as water-notes that fall
O'er bars of pearl, and in thy heart
Stamped like a jewel, that should start
From thy pure face in smiles, and break
Like radiance when it laughed or spake,
Affection that is born of truth
And goodness which make very youth.
THE WIND.
The ways of the wind are eerie
And I love them all,
The blithe, the mad, and the dreary,
Spring, Winter, and Fall.
And I love them all,
The blithe, the mad, and the dreary,
Spring, Winter, and Fall.
When it tells to the waiting crocus
Its beak to show,
And hangs on the wayside locust
Bloom-bunches of snow.
Its beak to show,
And hangs on the wayside locust
Bloom-bunches of snow.
When it comes like a balmy blessing
From the musky wood,
The half-grown roses caressing
Till their cheeks show blood.
From the musky wood,
The half-grown roses caressing
Till their cheeks show blood.
When it roars in the Autumn season,
And whines with rain
Or sleet like a mind without reason,
Or a soul in pain.
And whines with rain
Or sleet like a mind without reason,
Or a soul in pain.
When the wood-ways once so spicy
With bud and bloom
Are desolate, sear, and icy
As the icy tomb.
With bud and bloom
Are desolate, sear, and icy
As the icy tomb.
When the wild owl crouched and frowsy
In the rotten tree
Wails dolorous, cold, and drowsy,
His shuddering melody.
In the rotten tree
Wails dolorous, cold, and drowsy,
His shuddering melody.
Then I love to sit in December
Where the big hearth sings,
And dreaming forget and remember
A host of things.
Where the big hearth sings,
And dreaming forget and remember
A host of things.
And the wind—I hear how it strangles
And gasps and sighs
On the roof's sharp, shivering angles
That front the skies.
And gasps and sighs
On the roof's sharp, shivering angles
That front the skies.
How it groans and romps and tumbles
In attics o'erhead,
In the great-throated chimney rumbles,
Then all at once falls dead;
In attics o'erhead,
In the great-throated chimney rumbles,
Then all at once falls dead;
Till it comes like footsteps slipping
Of a child on the stair,
Or a quaint old gentleman tripping
With heavily powdered hair.
Of a child on the stair,
Or a quaint old gentleman tripping
With heavily powdered hair.
And my soul grows anxious hearted
For those once dear—
The long-lost loves departed
In the wind draw near.
For those once dear—
The long-lost loves departed
In the wind draw near.
And I seem to see their faces,
Not one estranged,
In their old accustomed places
'Round the wide hearth ranged.
Not one estranged,
In their old accustomed places
'Round the wide hearth ranged.
And the wind that waits and poises
Where the shadows sway
Makes their visionary voices
Seem calling me far away.
Where the shadows sway
Makes their visionary voices
Seem calling me far away.
And I wake in tears to listen
Again to the sobbing wind,
Far out on the lands that glisten,
Like the voice of one who sinned.
Again to the sobbing wind,
Far out on the lands that glisten,
Like the voice of one who sinned.
MUSIC.
[A Nocturne.]
The soul of love is harmony; as such
All melodies, that with wide pinions beat
Elastic bars, which mew it in the flesh,
Till 'twould away to kiss their throats and cling,
Are kindred to the soul, and while they sway,
Lords of its action molding all at will.
All melodies, that with wide pinions beat
Elastic bars, which mew it in the flesh,
Till 'twould away to kiss their throats and cling,
Are kindred to the soul, and while they sway,
Lords of its action molding all at will.
Ah! neither was I I, nor knew the clay,
For all my soul lay on full waves of song
Reverberating 'twixt the earth and moon.
For all my soul lay on full waves of song
Reverberating 'twixt the earth and moon.
O soft complaints, that haunted all the heart
With dreams of love long cherished, love dreams found
On sunset mountains gorgeous toward the West:
Kisses—soft kisses bartered 'mid pale buds
Of bursting Springs; and vows of fondest faith
Kept evermore; and eyes whose witchery
Might lure old saints down to the lowest hell
For one swift glance,—sweet, melancholy eyes
Yet full of hope and dimming o'er with tears,
Stooping and gloating in a silver mist
At Care's thin brow, and growing at his eyes.
Voices of expectation rolling on
To diapason of a mighty choir,
'Mid ever-swooning throbbings beating low,
Wove in hoarse fabric thunders—and O soul!
Wafted to caverns lost by hideous seas,
One with the tumult 'neath o'ercircling tiers
White with strange diamond spars and feathery gems.
O holy music, wailing down long aisles
To lose thyself 'neath arched welkins dashed
With moons of crystal;—dying, dying down
To passionate sobs, and then a silence vast,
Vast as thy caves, or as the human soul,
Oppressing all this being bulked in flesh
Until it strained to burst its bounds and soar.
With dreams of love long cherished, love dreams found
On sunset mountains gorgeous toward the West:
Kisses—soft kisses bartered 'mid pale buds
Of bursting Springs; and vows of fondest faith
Kept evermore; and eyes whose witchery
Might lure old saints down to the lowest hell
For one swift glance,—sweet, melancholy eyes
Yet full of hope and dimming o'er with tears,
Stooping and gloating in a silver mist
At Care's thin brow, and growing at his eyes.
Voices of expectation rolling on
To diapason of a mighty choir,
'Mid ever-swooning throbbings beating low,
Wove in hoarse fabric thunders—and O soul!
Wafted to caverns lost by hideous seas,
One with the tumult 'neath o'ercircling tiers
White with strange diamond spars and feathery gems.
O holy music, wailing down long aisles
To lose thyself 'neath arched welkins dashed
With moons of crystal;—dying, dying down
To passionate sobs, and then a silence vast,
Vast as thy caves, or as the human soul,
Oppressing all this being bulked in flesh
Until it strained to burst its bounds and soar.
White Sleep, who from heaped myriad poppies weighed
With baby slumbers, and from violet beds,
Culled whiter dreams to fold against her heart
In dewy clusters sparkling wet with tears;
And on her shadowy pinions soaring high
Winged 'neath the vault into oblivion,
With all the echoes panting at pale feet
To kiss the dreams, and o'er deep, wine-dark waves,
Far, far away, lost—and a sound of stars
Streaming from burning sockets into night
About my soul, about my soul like fire.
With baby slumbers, and from violet beds,
Culled whiter dreams to fold against her heart
In dewy clusters sparkling wet with tears;
And on her shadowy pinions soaring high
Winged 'neath the vault into oblivion,
With all the echoes panting at pale feet
To kiss the dreams, and o'er deep, wine-dark waves,
Far, far away, lost—and a sound of stars
Streaming from burning sockets into night
About my soul, about my soul like fire.
Oh, then what agony and bitter woe,
Regret and noise of desolation vast
As when all that one loves is torn away
Forever with "farewell forevermore!"
Oh, strife and panic and the rush of winds,
Moist ashen brows with raven tresses torn
That plunged against the bursting bolts of God,
That ploughed the tempest curst with deepest night;
Ruin and heartache, moans and demon eyes,
Fierce, bestial eyes that cursed at very God;
Then blinding tears that wept for such and prayed,
Tears blistering all the soul in haunting eyes,
Eyes such as Death would fear to ponder on!
Then dolorous bell-beats, battle as for light,
Folds of oblivion, gaspings, silence, death.
Regret and noise of desolation vast
As when all that one loves is torn away
Forever with "farewell forevermore!"
Oh, strife and panic and the rush of winds,
Moist ashen brows with raven tresses torn
That plunged against the bursting bolts of God,
That ploughed the tempest curst with deepest night;
Ruin and heartache, moans and demon eyes,
Fierce, bestial eyes that cursed at very God;
Then blinding tears that wept for such and prayed,
Tears blistering all the soul in haunting eyes,
Eyes such as Death would fear to ponder on!
Then dolorous bell-beats, battle as for light,
Folds of oblivion, gaspings, silence, death.
TO ——.
"Lydia, dic, per omnes
Te deos oro!"
Te deos oro!"
I
What are the subtleties
Which woo me in her eyes
To oaths she deems but lies,
I can not tell, I can not tell,
Nor will she.
They are beyond my thought.
For when I gaze I'm nought,
My senses all unwrought,
It is not well, it is not well,
Now Lily!
Which woo me in her eyes
To oaths she deems but lies,
I can not tell, I can not tell,
Nor will she.
They are beyond my thought.
For when I gaze I'm nought,
My senses all unwrought,
It is not well, it is not well,
Now Lily!
II
What is the magic sweet
Which makes hot pulses beat,
A wayward tongue repeat
A name for weeks, a name for weeks
Will, nill he?
Ai me! the pleasant pain
Falls sweetly on the brain
Like some slow sunny rain,
Whene'er she speaks, whene'er she speaks
This Lily.
Which makes hot pulses beat,
A wayward tongue repeat
A name for weeks, a name for weeks
Will, nill he?
Ai me! the pleasant pain
Falls sweetly on the brain
Like some slow sunny rain,
Whene'er she speaks, whene'er she speaks
This Lily.
III
What is the witchery rare
Which snares me in her hair
So deeply that I dare,
I dare not move, I dare not move,—
Lie stilly?
In looks and winning ways
The bloom of love she lays
Like fire on all my days,
And makes me love, and makes me love
This Lily.
Which snares me in her hair
So deeply that I dare,
I dare not move, I dare not move,—
Lie stilly?
In looks and winning ways
The bloom of love she lays
Like fire on all my days,
And makes me love, and makes me love
This Lily.
YULE.
Behold! it was night; and the wind and the rushing of snow on the wind,
And the boom of the sea and the moaning of desolate pines that were thinned.
And the boom of the sea and the moaning of desolate pines that were thinned.
And the halls of fierce Erick of Sogn with the clamor of wassail were filled,
With the clash of great beakers of gold and the reek of the ale that was spilled.
With the clash of great beakers of gold and the reek of the ale that was spilled.
For the Yule was upon them, the Yule, and they quaffed as from skulls of the slain,
And sware out round oaths in hoarse wit, and long quaffing sware laughing again.
And sware out round oaths in hoarse wit, and long quaffing sware laughing again.
Unharnessed from each shaggy throat that was hot with mad lust and with drink,
The burly wild skins and barbaric tossed rent from their broad golden link.
The burly wild skins and barbaric tossed rent from their broad golden link.
For the Yule was upon them, the Yule, and the "waes-heils" were shouted and roared
By the Berserks, the eaters of fire, and the Jarls round the ponderous board.
By the Berserks, the eaters of fire, and the Jarls round the ponderous board.
And huge on the hearth, that writhed hissing and bellied a bullion of gold,
The yule-log, the half of an oak from the mountains, was royally rolled.
The yule-log, the half of an oak from the mountains, was royally rolled.
And its warmth was a glory that glared and smote red through the width of the hall,
To burnish wild-boar skins and swords and great war-axes hung on the wall.
To burnish wild-boar skins and swords and great war-axes hung on the wall.
Till the maidens, who hurried big goblets that bubbled excessive with barm,
Blushed rose to the gold of thick curls when the shining steel mirrored each charm.
Blushed rose to the gold of thick curls when the shining steel mirrored each charm.
And Erick's one hundred gray skalds, at the nod and the beck of the king,
With the stormy rolled music of an hundred wild harps made the castle re-echoing ring.
With the stormy rolled music of an hundred wild harps made the castle re-echoing ring.
For the Yule, for the Yule was upon them, and battle and rapine were o'er,
And Harold, the viking, the red, and his brother lay dead on the shore.
And Harold, the viking, the red, and his brother lay dead on the shore.
For the harrier, Harold the red, and his merciless brother, black Ulf,
With their men on the shore of the wintery sea were carrion cold for the wolf.
With their men on the shore of the wintery sea were carrion cold for the wolf.
Behold! for the battle was finished, the battle that boomed in the day
With the rumble of shields that were shocked and the shatter of spears that did slay;
With the rumble of shields that were shocked and the shatter of spears that did slay;
With the hewing of swords that fierce lightened hot smoking with riotous blood,
And the crush of the mace that was crashed through the helm and the brain that withstood;
And the crush of the mace that was crashed through the helm and the brain that withstood;
And the cursing and shrieking of men at their gods—at their gods whom they cursed,
Till the caves of the ocean re-bellowed and storm on their struggling burst.
Till the caves of the ocean re-bellowed and storm on their struggling burst.
And they fought in the flying and drifting and silence of covering snow,
Till the wounded that lay with the dead, with the dead were stiff frozen in woe.
Till the wounded that lay with the dead, with the dead were stiff frozen in woe.
And they fought; and the mystical flakes that were clutched of the maniac wind
Drave sharp on the eyes of the kings, made the sight of their warriors blind.
Drave sharp on the eyes of the kings, made the sight of their warriors blind.
And they fought; and with leonine wrath were they met till the battle god, Thor,
From his thunder-wheeled chariot rolled, making end of destruction and war.
From his thunder-wheeled chariot rolled, making end of destruction and war.
And they fell—like twin rocks of the mountain the ruinous whirlwinds have hurled
From their world-rooted crags to the ocean below with the strength of the world.
From their world-rooted crags to the ocean below with the strength of the world.
And, lo! not in vain their loud vows! on the stern iron altars of War
Their flesh, their own flesh, yea, the victim, their blood the libation to Thor....
Their flesh, their own flesh, yea, the victim, their blood the libation to Thor....
But a glitter and splendor of arms out of snow and the foam of the seas,
And the terrible ghosts of the vikings and the gauntleted Valkyries....
And the terrible ghosts of the vikings and the gauntleted Valkyries....
Yea, the halls of fierce Erick of Sogn with the turmoil of wassail are filled,
With the steam of the flesh of the boar and the reek of the ale that is spilled.
With the steam of the flesh of the boar and the reek of the ale that is spilled.
For the Yule and the vict'ry are theirs, and the "waes-heils" are shouted and roared
By the Berserks, the eaters of fire, and the Jarls 'round the ponderous board.
By the Berserks, the eaters of fire, and the Jarls 'round the ponderous board.