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diff --git a/old/ssngs10.txt b/old/ssngs10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3e6e871 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ssngs10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1682 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Sister Songs, by Francis Thompson +#3 in our series by Francis Thompson + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk +from the 1908 Burns and Oates edition. + + + + + +Sister Songs + + + + +PREFACE + + + +This poem, though new in the sense of being now for the first time +printed, was written some four years ago, about the same date as +the Hound of Heaven in my former volume. + +One image in the Proem was an unconscious plagiarism from the +beautiful image in Mr. Patmore's St. Valentine's Day:- + + +"O baby Spring, +That flutter'st sudden 'neath the breast of Earth, +A month before the birth!" + + +Finding I could not disengage it without injury to the passage in +which it is embedded, I have preferred to leave it, with this +acknowledgment to a Poet rich enough to lend to the poor. + +FRANCIS THOMPSON, +1895 + + + +SISTER SONGS--An Offering to Two Sisters + + + +THE PROEM + + + +Shrewd winds and shrill--were these the speech of May? +A ragged, slag-grey sky--invested so, +Mary's spoilt nursling! wert thou wont to go? +Or THOU, Sun-god and song-god, say +Could singer pipe one tiniest linnet-lay, +While Song did turn away his face from song? +Or who could be +In spirit or in body hale for long, - +Old AEsculap's best Master!--lacking thee? +At length, then, thou art here! +On the earth's lethed ear +Thy voice of light rings out exultant, strong; +Through dreams she stirs and murmurs at that summons dear: +From its red leash my heart strains tamelessly, +For Spring leaps in the womb of the young year! +Nay, was it not brought forth before, +And we waited, to behold it, +Till the sun's hand should unfold it, +What the year's young bosom bore? +Even so; it came, nor knew we that it came, +In the sun's eclipse. +Yet the birds have plighted vows, +And from the branches pipe each other's name; +Yet the season all the boughs +Has kindled to the finger-tips, - +Mark yonder, how the long laburnum drips +Its jocund spilth of fire, its honey of wild flame! +Yea, and myself put on swift quickening, +And answer to the presence of a sudden Spring. +From cloud-zoned pinnacles of the secret spirit +Song falls precipitant in dizzying streams; +And, like a mountain-hold when war-shouts stir it, +The mind's recessed fastness casts to light +Its gleaming multitudes, that from every height +Unfurl the flaming of a thousand dreams. +Now therefore, thou who bring'st the year to birth, +Who guid'st the bare and dabbled feet of May; +Sweet stem to that rose Christ, who from the earth +Suck'st our poor prayers, conveying them to Him; +Be aidant, tender Lady, to my lay! +Of thy two maidens somewhat must I say, +Ere shadowy twilight lashes, drooping, dim +Day's dreamy eyes from us; +Ere eve has struck and furled +The beamy-textured tent transpicuous, +Of webbed coerule wrought and woven calms, +Whence has paced forth the lambent-footed sun. +And Thou disclose my flower of song upcurled, +Who from Thy fair irradiant palms +Scatterest all love and loveliness as alms; +Yea, Holy One, +Who coin'st Thyself to beauty for the world! + +Then, Spring's little children, your lauds do ye upraise +To Sylvia, O Sylvia, her sweet, feat ways! +Your lovesome labours lay away, +And trick you out in holiday, +For syllabling to Sylvia; +And all you birds on branches, lave your mouths with May, +To bear with me this burthen, +For singing to Sylvia. + + +PART THE FIRST + + +The leaves dance, the leaves sing, +The leaves dance in the breath of the Spring. +I bid them dance, +I bid them sing, +For the limpid glance +Of my ladyling; +For the gift to the Spring of a dewier spring, +For God's good grace of this ladyling! +I know in the lane, by the hedgerow track, +The long, broad grasses underneath +Are warted with rain like a toad's knobbed back; +But here May weareth a rainless wreath. +In the new-sucked milk of the sun's bosom +Is dabbled the mouth of the daisy-blossom; +The smouldering rosebud chars through its sheath; +The lily stirs her snowy limbs, +Ere she swims +Naked up through her cloven green, +Like the wave-born Lady of Love Hellene; +And the scattered snowdrop exquisite +Twinkles and gleams, +As if the showers of the sunny beams +Were splashed from the earth in drops of light. +Everything +That is child of Spring +Casts its bud or blossoming +Upon the stream of my delight. + +Their voices, that scents are, now let them upraise +To Sylvia, O Sylvia, her sweet, feat ways! +Their lovely mother them array, +And prank them out in holiday, +For syllabling to Sylvia; +And all the birds on branches lave their mouths with May, +To bear with me this burthen, +For singing to Sylvia. + +2. + +While thus I stood in mazes bound +Of vernal sorcery, +I heard a dainty dubious sound, +As of goodly melody; +Which first was faint as if in swound, +Then burst so suddenly +In warring concord all around, +That, whence this thing might be, +To see +The very marrow longed in me! +It seemed of air, it seemed of ground, +And never any witchery +Drawn from pipe, or reed, or string, +Made such dulcet ravishing. +'Twas like no earthly instrument, +Yet had something of them all +In its rise, and in its fall; +As if in one sweet consort there were blent +Those archetypes celestial +Which our endeavouring instruments recall. +So heavenly flutes made murmurous plain +To heavenly viols, that again +- Aching with music--wailed back pain; +Regals release their notes, which rise +Welling, like tears from heart to eyes; +And the harp thrills with thronging sighs. +Horns in mellow flattering +Parley with the cithern-string:- +Hark!--the floating, long-drawn note +Woos the throbbing cithern-string! + +Their pretty, pretty prating those citherns sure upraise +For homage unto Sylvia, her sweet, feat ways: +Those flutes do flute their vowelled lay, +Their lovely languid language say, +For lisping to Sylvia; +Those viols' lissom bowings break the heart of May, +And harps harp their burthen, +For singing to Sylvia. + +3. + +Now at that music and that mirth +Rose, as 'twere, veils from earth; +And I spied +How beside +Bud, bell, bloom, an elf +Stood, or was the flower itself +'Mid radiant air +All the fair +Frequence swayed in irised wavers. +Some against the gleaming rims +Their bosoms prest +Of the kingcups, to the brims +Filled with sun, and their white limbs +Bathed in those golden lavers; +Some on the brown, glowing breast +Of that Indian maid, the pansy, +(Through its tenuous veils confest +Of swathing light), in a quaint fancy +Tied her knot of yellow favours; +Others dared open draw +Snapdragon's dreadful jaw: +Some, just sprung from out the soil, +Sleeked and shook their rumpled fans +Dropt with sheen +Of moony green; +Others, not yet extricate, +On their hands leaned their weight, +And writhed them free with mickle toil, +Still folded in their veiny vans: +And all with an unsought accord +Sang together from the sward; +Whence had come, and from sprites +Yet unseen, those delights, +As of tempered musics blent, +Which had given me such content. +For haply our best instrument, +Pipe or cithern, stopped or strung, +Mimics but some spirit tongue. + +Their amiable voices, I bid them upraise +To Sylvia, O Sylvia, her sweet, feat ways; +Their lovesome labours laid away, +To linger out this holiday +In syllabling to Sylvia; +While all the birds on branches lave their mouths with May, +To bear with me this burthen, +For singing to Sylvia. + +4. + +Next I saw, wonder-whist, +How from the atmosphere a mist, +So it seemed, slow uprist; +And, looking from those elfin swarms, +I was 'ware +How the air +Was all populous with forms +Of the Hours, floating down, +Like Nereids through a watery town. +Some, with languors of waved arms, +Fluctuous oared their flexile way; +Some were borne half resupine +On the aerial hyaline, +Their fluid limbs and rare array +Flickering on the wind, as quivers +Trailing weed in running rivers; +And others, in far prospect seen, +Newly loosed on this terrene, +Shot in piercing swiftness came, +With hair a-stream like pale and goblin flame. +As crystelline ice in water, +Lay in air each faint daughter; +Inseparate (or but separate dim) +Circumfused wind from wind-like vest, +Wind-like vest from wind-like limb. +But outward from each lucid breast, +When some passion left its haunt, +Radiate surge of colour came, +Diffusing blush-wise, palpitant, +Dying all the filmy frame. +With some sweet tenderness they would +Turn to an amber-clear and glossy gold; +Or a fine sorrow, lovely to behold, +Would sweep them as the sun and wind's joined flood +Sweeps a greening-sapphire sea; +Or they would glow enamouredly +Illustrious sanguine, like a grape of blood; +Or with mantling poetry +Curd to the tincture which the opal hath, +Like rainbows thawing in a moonbeam bath. +So paled they, flushed they, swam they, sang melodiously. + +Their chanting, soon fading, let them, too, upraise +For homage unto Sylvia, her sweet, feat ways; +Weave with suave float their waved way, +And colours take of holiday, +For syllabling to Sylvia; +And all the birds on branches lave their mouths with May, +To bear with me this burthen, +For singing to Sylvia. + +5. + +Then, through those translucencies, +As grew my senses clearer clear, +Did I see, and did I hear, +How under an elm's canopy +Wheeled a flight of Dryades +Murmuring measured melody. +Gyre in gyre their treading was, +Wheeling with an adverse flight, +In twi-circle o'er the grass, +These to left, and those to right; +All the band +Linked by each other's hand; +Decked in raiment stained as +The blue-helmed aconite. +And they advance with flutter, with grace, +To the dance +Moving on with a dainty pace, +As blossoms mince it on river swells. +Over their heads their cymbals shine, +Round each ankle gleams a twine +Of twinkling bells - +Tune twirled golden from their cells. +Every step was a tinkling sound, +As they glanced in their dancing-ground, +Clouds in cluster with such a sailing +Float o'er the light of the wasting moon, +As the cloud of their gliding veiling +Swung in the sway of the dancing-tune. +There was the clash of their cymbals clanging, +Ringing of swinging bells clinging their feet; +And the clang on wing it seemed a-hanging, +Hovering round their dancing so fleet. - +I stirred, I rustled more than meet; +Whereat they broke to the left and right, +With eddying robes like aconite +Blue of helm; +And I beheld to the foot o' the elm. + +They have not tripped those dances, betrayed to my gaze, +To glad the heart of Sylvia, beholding of their maze; +Through barky walls have slid away, +And tricked them in their holiday, +For other than for Sylvia; +While all the birds on branches lave their mouths with May, +And bear with me this burthen, +For singing to Sylvia. + +6. + +Where its umbrage was enrooted, +Sat white-suited, +Sat green-amiced, and bare-footed, +Spring amid her minstrelsy; +There she sat amid her ladies, +Where the shade is +Sheen as Enna mead ere Hades' +Gloom fell thwart Persephone. +Dewy buds were interstrown +Through her tresses hanging down, +And her feet +Were most sweet, +Tinged like sea-stars, rosied brown. +A throng of children like to flowers were sown +About the grass beside, or clomb her knee: +I looked who were that favoured company. +And one there stood +Against the beamy flood +Of sinking day, which, pouring its abundance, +Sublimed the illuminous and volute redundance +Of locks that, half dissolving, floated round her face; +As see I might +Far off a lily-cluster poised in sun +Dispread its gracile curls of light +I knew what chosen child was there in place! +I knew there might no brows be, save of one, +With such Hesperian fulgence compassed, +Which in her moving seemed to wheel about her head. + +O Spring's little children, more loud your lauds upraise, +For this is even Sylvia, with her sweet, feat ways! +Your lovesome labours lay away, +And prank you out in holiday, +For syllabling to Sylvia; +And all you birds on branches, lave your mouths with May, +To bear with me this burthen +For singing to Sylvia! + +7. + +Spring, goddess, is it thou, desired long? +And art thou girded round with this young train? - +If ever I did do thee ease in song, +Now of thy grace let me one meed obtain, +And list thou to one plain. +Oh, keep still in thy train +After the years when others therefrom fade, +This tiny, well-beloved maid! +To whom the gate of my heart's fortalice, +With all which in it is, +And the shy self who doth therein immew him +'Gainst what loud leagurers battailously woo him, +I, bribed traitor to him, +Set open for one kiss. + +Then suffer, Spring, thy children, that lauds they should upraise +To Sylvia, this Sylvia, her sweet, feat ways; +Their lovely labours lay away, +And trick them out in holiday, +For syllabling to Sylvia; +And that all birds on branches lave their mouths with May, +To bear with me this burthen, +For singing to Sylvia. + +8. + +A kiss? for a child's kiss? +Aye, goddess, even for this. +Once, bright Sylviola! in days not far, +Once--in that nightmare-time which still doth haunt +My dreams, a grim, unbidden visitant - +Forlorn, and faint, and stark, +I had endured through watches of the dark +The abashless inquisition of each star, +Yea, was the outcast mark +Of all those heavenly passers' scrutiny; +Stood bound and helplessly +For Time to shoot his barbed minutes at me; +Suffered the trampling hoof of every hour +In night's slow-wheeled car; +Until the tardy dawn dragged me at length +From under those dread wheels; and, bled of strength, +I waited the inevitable last. +Then there came past +A child; like thee, a spring-flower; but a flower +Fallen from the budded coronal of Spring, +And through the city-streets blown withering. +She passed,--O brave, sad, lovingest, tender thing! - +And of her own scant pittance did she give, +That I might eat and live: +Then fled, a swift and trackless fugitive. +Therefore I kissed in thee +The heart of Childhood, so divine for me; +And her, through what sore ways, +And what unchildish days, +Borne from me now, as then, a trackless fugitive. +Therefore I kissed in thee +Her, child! and innocency, +And spring, and all things that have gone from me, +And that shall never be; +All vanished hopes, and all most hopeless bliss, +Came with thee to my kiss. +And ah! so long myself had strayed afar +From child, and woman, and the boon earth's green, +And all wherewith life's face is fair beseen; +Journeying its journey bare +Five suns, except of the all-kissing sun +Unkissed of one; +Almost I had forgot +The healing harms, +And whitest witchery, a-lurk in that +Authentic cestus of two girdling arms: +And I remembered not +The subtle sanctities which dart +From childish lips' unvalued precious brush, +Nor how it makes the sudden lilies push +Between the loosening fibres of the heart. +Then, that thy little kiss +Should be to me all this, +Let workaday wisdom blink sage lids thereat; +Which towers a flight three hedgerows high, poor bat! +And straightway charts me out the empyreal air. +Its chart I wing not by, its canon of worth +Scorn not, nor reck though mine should breed it mirth: +And howso thou and I may be disjoint, +Yet still my falcon spirit makes her point +Over the covert where +Thou, sweetest quarry, hast put in from her! + +(Soul, hush these sad numbers, too sad to upraise +In hymning bright Sylvia, unlearn'd in such ways! +Our mournful moods lay we away, +And prank our thoughts in holiday, +For syllabling to Sylvia; +When all the birds on branches lave their mouths with May, +To bear with us this burthen, +For singing to Sylvia!) + +9. + +Then thus Spring, bounteous lady, made reply: +O lover of me and all my progeny, +For grace to you +I take her ever to my retinue. +Over thy form, dear child, alas! my art +Cannot prevail; but mine immortalising +Touch I lay upon thy heart. +Thy soul's fair shape +In my unfading mantle's green I drape, +And thy white mind shall rest by my devising +A Gideon-fleece amid life's dusty drouth. +If Even burst yon globed yellow grape +(Which is the sun to mortals' sealed sight) +Against her stained mouth; +Or if white-handed light +Draw thee yet dripping from the quiet pools, +Still lucencies and cools, +Of sleep, which all night mirror constellate dreams; +Like to the sign which led the Israelite, +Thy soul, through day or dark, +A visible brightness on the chosen ark +Of thy sweet body and pure, +Shall it assure, +With auspice large and tutelary gleams, +Appointed solemn courts, and covenanted streams." + +Cease, Spring's little children, now cease your lauds to raise; +That dream is past, and Sylvia, with her sweet, feat ways. +Our loved labour, laid away, +Is smoothly ended; said our say, +Our syllable to Sylvia. +Make sweet, you birds on branches! make sweet your mouths with +May! +But borne is this burthen, +Sung unto Sylvia. + + + +PART THE SECOND + + + +And now, thou elder nursling of the nest; +Ere all the intertangled west +Be one magnificence +Of multitudinous blossoms that o'errun +The flaming brazen bowl o' the burnished sun +Which they do flower from, +How shall I 'stablish THY memorial? +Nay, how or with what countenance shall I come +To plead in my defence +For loving thee at all? +I who can scarcely speak my fellows' speech, +Love their love, or mine own love to them teach; +A bastard barred from their inheritance, +Who seem, in this dim shape's uneasy nook, +Some sun-flower's spirit which by luckless chance +Has mournfully its tenement mistook; +When it were better in its right abode, +Heartless and happy lackeying its god. +How com'st thou, little tender thing of white, +Whose very touch full scantly me beseems, +How com'st thou resting on my vaporous dreams, +Kindling a wraith there of earth's vernal green? +Even so as I have seen, +In night's aerial sea with no wind blust'rous, +A ribbed tract of cloudy malachite +Curve a shored crescent wide; +And on its slope marge shelving to the night +The stranded moon lay quivering like a lustrous +Medusa newly washed up from the tide, +Lay in an oozy pool of its own deliquious light. + +Yet hear how my excuses may prevail, +Nor, tender white orb, be thou opposite! +Life and life's beauty only hold their revels +In the abysmal ocean's luminous levels. +There, like the phantasms of a poet pale, +The exquisite marvels sail: +Clarified silver; greens and azures frail +As if the colours sighed themselves away, +And blent in supersubtile interplay +As if they swooned into each other's arms; +Repured vermilion, +Like ear-tips 'gainst the sun; +And beings that, under night's swart pinion, +Make every wave upon the harbour-bars +A beaten yolk of stars. +But where day's glance turns baffled from the deeps, +Die out those lovely swarms; +And in the immense profound no creature glides or creeps. + +Love and love's beauty only hold their revels +In life's familiar, penetrable levels: +What of its ocean-floor? +I dwell there evermore. +From almost earliest youth +I raised the lids o' the truth, +And forced her bend on me her shrinking sight; +Ever I knew me Beauty's eremite, +In antre of this lowly body set. +Girt with a thirsty solitude of soul. +Nathless I not forget +How I have, even as the anchorite, +I too, imperishing essences that console. +Under my ruined passions, fallen and sere, +The wild dreams stir like little radiant girls, +Whom in the moulted plumage of the year +Their comrades sweet have buried to the curls. +Yet, though their dedicated amorist, +How often do I bid my visions hist, +Deaf to them, pleading all their piteous fills; +Who weep, as weep the maidens of the mist +Clinging the necks of the unheeding hills: +And their tears wash them lovelier than before, +That from grief's self our sad delight grows more, +Fair are the soul's uncrisped calms, indeed, +Endiapered with many a spiritual form +Of blosmy-tinctured weed; +But scarce itself is conscious of the store +Suckled by it, and only after storm +Casts up its loosened thoughts upon the shore. +To this end my deeps are stirred; +And I deem well why life unshared +Was ordained me of yore. +In pairing-time, we know, the bird +Kindles to its deepmost splendour, +And the tender +Voice is tenderest in its throat; +Were its love, for ever nigh it, +Never by it, +It might keep a vernal note, +The crocean and amethystine +In their pristine +Lustre linger on its coat. +Therefore must my song-bower lone be, +That my tone be +Fresh with dewy pain alway; +She, who scorns my dearest care ta'en, +An uncertain +Shadow of the sprite of May. +And is my song sweet, as they say? +Tis sweet for one whose voice has no reply, +Save silence's sad cry: +And are its plumes a burning bright array? +They burn for an unincarnated eye +A bubble, charioteered by the inward breath +Which, ardorous for its own invisible lure, +Urges me glittering to aerial death, +I am rapt towards that bodiless paramour; +Blindly the uncomprehended tyranny +Obeying of my heart's impetuous might. +The earth and all its planetary kin, +Starry buds tangled in the whirling hair +That flames round the Phoebean wassailer, +Speed no more ignorant, more predestined flight, +Than I, HER viewless tresses netted in. +As some most beautiful one, with lovely taunting, +Her eyes of guileless guile o'ercanopies, +Does her hid visage bow, +And miserly your covetous gaze allow, +By inchmeal, coy degrees, +Saying--"Can you see me now?" +Yet from the mouth's reflex you guess the wanting +Smile of the coming eyes +In all their upturned grievous witcheries, +Before that sunbreak rise; +And each still hidden feature view within +Your mind, as eager scrutinies detail +The moon's young rondure through the shamefast veil +Drawn to her gleaming chin: +After this wise, +From the enticing smile of earth and skies +I dream my unknown Fair's refused gaze; +And guessingly her love's close traits devise, +Which she with subtile coquetries +Through little human glimpses slow displays, +Cozening my mateless days +By sick, intolerable delays. +And so I keep mine uncompanioned ways; +And so my touch, to golden poesies +Turning love's bread, is bought at hunger's price. +So,--in the inextinguishable wars +Which roll song's Orient on the sullen night +Whose ragged banners in their own despite +Take on the tinges of the hated light, - +So Sultan Phoebus has his Janizars. +But if mine unappeased cicatrices +Might get them lawful ease; +Were any gentle passion hallowed me, +Who must none other breath of passion feel +Save such as winnows to the fledged heel +The tremulous Paradisal plumages; +The conscious sacramental trees +Which ever be +Shaken celestially, +Consentient with enamoured wings, might know my love for thee. +Yet is there more, whereat none guesseth, love! +Upon the ending of my deadly night +(Whereof thou hast not the surmise, and slight +Is all that any mortal knows thereof), +Thou wert to me that earnest of day's light, +When, like the back of a gold-mailed saurian +Heaving its slow length from Nilotic slime, +The first long gleaming fissure runs Aurorian +Athwart the yet dun firmament of prime. +Stretched on the margin of the cruel sea +Whence they had rescued me, +With faint and painful pulses was I lying; +Not yet discerning well +If I had 'scaped, or were an icicle, +Whose thawing is its dying. +Like one who sweats before a despot's gate, +Summoned by some presaging scroll of fate, +And knows not whether kiss or dagger wait; +And all so sickened is his countenance, +The courtiers buzz, "Lo, doomed!" and look at him askance:- +At Fate's dread portal then +Even so stood I, I ken, +Even so stood I, between a joy and fear, +And said to mine own heart, "Now if the end be here!" + +They say, Earth's beauty seems completest +To them that on their death-beds rest; +Gentle lady! she smiles sweetest +Just ere she clasp us to her breast. +And I,--now MY Earth's countenance grew bright, +Did she but smile me towards that nuptial-night? +But whileas on such dubious bed I lay, +One unforgotten day, +As a sick child waking sees +Wide-eyed daisies +Gazing on it from its hand, +Slipped there for its dear amazes; +So between thy father's knees +I saw THEE stand, +And through my hazes +Of pain and fear thine eyes' young wonder shone. +Then, as flies scatter from a carrion, +Or rooks in spreading gyres like broken smoke +Wheel, when some sound their quietude has broke, +Fled, at thy countenance, all that doubting spawn: +The heart which I had questioned spoke, +A cry impetuous from its depths was drawn, - +"I take the omen of this face of dawn!" +And with the omen to my heart cam'st thou. +Even with a spray of tears +That one light draft was fixed there for the years. + +And now? - +The hours I tread ooze memories of thee, Sweet! +Beneath my casual feet. +With rainfall as the lea, +The day is drenched with thee; +In little exquisite surprises +Bubbling deliciousness of thee arises +From sudden places, +Under the common traces +Of my most lethargied and customed paces. + +As an Arab journeyeth +Through a sand of Ayaman, +Lean Thirst, lolling its cracked tongue, +Lagging by his side along; +And a rusty-winged Death +Grating its low flight before, +Casting ribbed shadows o'er +The blank desert, blank and tan: +He lifts by hap toward where the morning's roots are +His weary stare, - +Sees, although they plashless mutes are, +Set in a silver air +Fountains of gelid shoots are, +Making the daylight fairest fair; +Sees the palm and tamarind +Tangle the tresses of a phantom wind; - +A sight like innocence when one has sinned! +A green and maiden freshness smiling there, +While with unblinking glare +The tawny-hided desert crouches watching her. + +'Tis a vision: +Yet the greeneries Elysian +He has known in tracts afar; +Thus the enamouring fountains flow, +Those the very palms that grow, +By rare-gummed Sava, or Herbalimar. - + +Such a watered dream has tarried +Trembling on my desert arid; +Even so +Its lovely gleamings +Seemings show +Of things not seemings; +And I gaze, +Knowing that, beyond my ways, +Verily +All these ARE, for these are she. +Eve no gentlier lays her cooling cheek +On the burning brow of the sick earth, +Sick with death, and sick with birth, +Aeon to aeon, in secular fever twirled, +Than thy shadow soothes this weak +And distempered being of mine. +In all I work, my hand includeth thine; +Thou rushest down in every stream +Whose passion frets my spirit's deepening gorge; +Unhood'st mine eyas-heart, and fliest my dream; +Thou swing'st the hammers of my forge; +As the innocent moon, that nothing does but shine, +Moves all the labouring surges of the world. +Pierce where thou wilt the springing thought in me, +And there thy pictured countenance lies enfurled, +As in the cut fern lies the imaged tree. +This poor song that sings of thee, +This fragile song, is but a curled +Shell outgathered from thy sea, +And murmurous still of its nativity. +Princess of Smiles! +Sorceress of most unlawful-lawful wiles! +Cunning pit for gazers' senses, +Overstrewn with innocences! +Purities gleam white like statues +In the fair lakes of thine eyes, +And I watch the sparkles that use +There to rise, +Knowing these +Are bubbles from the calyces +Of the lovely thoughts that breathe +Paving, like water-flowers, thy spirit's floor beneath. + +O thou most dear! +Who art thy sex's complex harmony +God-set more facilely; +To thee may love draw near +Without one blame or fear, +Unchidden save by his humility: +Thou Perseus' Shield! wherein I view secure +The mirrored Woman's fateful-fair allure! +Whom Heaven still leaves a twofold dignity, +As girlhood gentle, and as boyhood free; +With whom no most diaphanous webs enwind +The bared limbs of the rebukeless mind. +Wild Dryad! all unconscious of thy tree, +With which indissolubly +The tyrannous time shall one day make thee whole; +Whose frank arms pass unfretted through its bole: +Who wear'st thy femineity +Light as entrailed blossoms, that shalt find +It erelong silver shackles unto thee. +Thou whose young sex is yet but in thy soul; - +As hoarded in the vine +Hang the gold skins of undelirious wine, +As air sleeps, till it toss its limbs in breeze:- +In whom the mystery which lures and sunders, +Grapples and thrusts apart; endears, estranges; +- The dragon to its own Hesperides - +Is gated under slow-revolving changes, +Manifold doors of heavy-hinged years. +So once, ere Heaven's eyes were filled with wonders +To see Laughter rise from Tears, +Lay in beauty not yet mighty, +Conched in translucencies, +The antenatal Aphrodite, +Caved magically under magic seas; +Caved dreamlessly beneath the dreamful seas. + +"Whose sex is in thy soul!" +What think we of thy soul? +Which has no parts, and cannot grow, +Unfurled not from an embryo; +Born of full stature, lineal to control; +And yet a pigmy's yoke must undergo. +Yet must keep pace and tarry, patient, kind, +With its unwilling scholar, the dull, tardy mind; +Must be obsequious to the body's powers, +Whose low hands mete its paths, set ope and close its ways; +Must do obeisance to the days, +And wait the little pleasure of the hours; +Yea, ripe for kingship, yet must be +Captive in statuted minority! +So is all power fulfilled, as soul in thee. +So still the ruler by the ruled takes rule, +And wisdom weaves itself i' the loom o' the fool. +The splendent sun no splendour can display, +Till on gross things he dash his broken ray, +From cloud and tree and flower re-tossed in prismy spray. +Did not obstruction's vessel hem it in, +Force were not force, would spill itself in vain +We know the Titan by his champed chain. +Stay is heat's cradle, it is rocked therein, +And by check's hand is burnished into light; +If hate were none, would love burn lowlier bright? +God's Fair were guessed scarce but for opposite sin; +Yea, and His Mercy, I do think it well, +Is flashed back from the brazen gates of Hell. +The heavens decree +All power fulfil itself as soul in thee. +For supreme Spirit subject was to clay, +And Law from its own servants learned a law, +And Light besought a lamp unto its way, +And Awe was reined in awe, +At one small house of Nazareth; +And Golgotha +Saw Breath to breathlessness resign its breath, +And Life do homage for its crown to death. + +So is all power, as soul in thee increased! +But, knowing this, in knowledge's despite +I fret against the law severe that stains +Thy spirit with eclipse; +When--as a nymph's carven head sweet water drips, +For others oozing so the cool delight +Which cannot steep her stiffened mouth of stone - +Thy nescient lips repeat maternal strains. +Memnonian lips! +Smitten with singing from thy mother's east, +And murmurous with music not their own: +Nay, the lips flexile, while the mind alone +A passionless statue stands. +Oh, pardon, innocent one! +Pardon at thine unconscious hands! +"Murmurous with music not their own," I say? +And in that saying how do I missay, +When from the common sands +Of poorest common speech of common day +Thine accents sift the golden musics out! +And ah, we poets, I misdoubt, +Are little more than thou! +We speak a lesson taught we know not how, +And what it is that from us flows +The hearer better than the utterer knows. + +Thou canst foreshape thy word; +The poet is not lord +Of the next syllable may come +With the returning pendulum; +And what he plans to-day in song, +To-morrow sings it in another tongue. +Where the last leaf fell from his bough, +He knows not if a leaf shall grow, +Where he sows he doth not reap, +He reapeth where he did not sow; +He sleeps, and dreams forsake his sleep +To meet him on his waking way. +Vision will mate him not by law and vow: +Disguised in life's most hodden-grey, +By the most beaten road of everyday +She waits him, unsuspected and unknown. +The hardest pang whereon +He lays his mutinous head may be a Jacob's stone. +In the most iron crag his foot can tread +A Dream may strew her bed, +And suddenly his limbs entwine, +And draw him down through rock as sea-nymphs might through brine. +But, unlike those feigned temptress-ladies who +In guerdon of a night the lover slew, +When the embrace has failed, the rapture fled, +Not he, not he, the wild sweet witch is dead! +And, though he cherisheth +The babe most strangely born from out her death, +Some tender trick of her it hath, maybe, - +It is not she! + +Yet, even as the air is rumorous of fray +Before the first shafts of the sun's onslaught +From gloom's black harness splinter, +And Summer move on Winter +With the trumpet of the March, and the pennon of the May; +As gesture outstrips thought; +So, haply, toyer with ethereal strings! +Are thy blind repetitions of high things +The murmurous gnats whose aimless hoverings +Reveal song's summer in the air; +The outstretched hand, which cannot thought declare, +Yet is thought's harbinger. +These strains the way for thine own strains prepare; +We feel the music moist upon this breeze, +And hope the congregating poesies. +Sundered yet by thee from us +Wait, with wild eyes luminous, +All thy winged things that are to be; +They flit against thee, Gate of Ivory! +They clamour on the portress Destiny, - +"Set her wide, so we may issue through! +Our vans are quick for that they have to do +Suffer still your young desire; +Your plumes but bicker at the tips with fire, +Tarry their kindling; they will beat the higher. +And thou, bright girl, not long shalt thou repeat +Idly the music from thy mother caught; +Not vainly has she wrought, +Not vainly from the cloudward-jetting turret +Of her aerial mind, for thy weak feet, +Let down the silken ladder of her thought. +She bare thee with a double pain, +Of the body and the spirit; +Thou thy fleshly weeds hast ta'en, +Thy diviner weeds inherit! +The precious streams which through thy young lips roll +Shall leave their lovely delta in thy soul: +Where sprites of so essential kind +Set their paces, +Surely they shall leave behind +The green traces +Of their sportance in the mind, +And thou shalt, ere we well may know it, +Turn that daintiness, a poet, - +Elfin-ring +Where sweet fancies foot and sing. +So it may be, so it SHALL be, - +Oh, take the prophecy from me! +What if the old fastidious sculptor, Time, +This crescent marvel of his hands +Carveth all too painfully, +And I who prophesy shall never see? +What if the niche of its predestined rhyme, +Its aching niche, too long expectant stands? +Yet shall he after sore delays +On some exultant day of days +The white enshrouding childhood raise +From thy fair spirit, finished for our gaze; +While we (but 'mongst that happy "we" +The prophet cannot be!) +While we behold with no astonishments, +With that serene fulfilment of delight +Wherewith we view the sight +When the stars pitch the golden tents +Of their high campment on the plains of night. +Why should amazement be our satellite? +What wonder in such things? +If angels have hereditary wings, +If not by Salic law is handed down +The poet's crown, +To thee, born in the purple of the throne, +The laurel must belong: +Thou, in thy mother's right +Descendant of Castalian-chrismed kings - +O Princess of the Blood of Song! + +Peace; too impetuously have I been winging +Toward vaporous heights which beckon and beguile +I sink back, saddened to my inmost mind; +Even as I list a-dream that mother singing +The poesy of sweet tone, and sadden, while +Her voice is cast in troubled wake behind +The keel of her keen spirit. Thou art enshrined +In a too primal innocence for this eye - +Intent on such untempered radiancy - +Not to be pained; my clay can scarce endure +Ungrieved the effluence near of essences so pure. +Therefore, little, tender maiden, +Never be thou overshaden +With a mind whose canopy +Would shut out the sky from thee; +Whose tangled branches intercept Heaven's light: +I will not feed my unpastured heart +On thee, green pleasaunce as thou art, +To lessen by one flower thy happy daisies white. +The water-rat is earth-hued like the runlet +Whereon he swims; and how in me should lurk +Thoughts apt to neighbour thine, thou creature sunlit? +If through long fret and irk +Thine eyes within their browed recesses were +Worn caves where thought lay couchant in its lair; +Wert thou a spark among dank leaves, ah ruth! +With age in all thy veins, while all thy heart was youth; +Our contact might run smooth. +But life's Eoan dews still moist thy ringed hair; +Dian's chill finger-tips +Thaw if at night they happen on thy lips; +The flying fringes of the sun's cloak frush +The fragile leaves which on those warm lips blush; +And joy only lurks retired +In the dim gloaming of thine irid. +Then since my love drags this poor shadow, me, +And one without the other may not be, +From both I guard thee free. +It still is much, yes, it is much, +Only--my dream!--to love my love of thee; +And it is much, yes, it is much, +In hands which thou hast touched to feel thy touch +In voices which have mingled with thine own +To hear a double tone. +As anguish, for supreme expression prest, +Borrows its saddest tongue from jest, +Thou hast of absence so create +A presence more importunate; +And thy voice pleads its sweetest suit +When it is mute. +I thank the once accursed star +Which did me teach +To make of Silence my familiar, +Who hath the rich reversion of thy speech, +Since the most charming sounds thy thought can wear, +Cast off, fall to that pale attendant's share; +And thank the gift which made my mind +A shadow-world, wherethrough the shadows wind +Of all the loved and lovely of my kind. + +Like a maiden Saxon, folden, +As she flits, in moon-drenched mist; +Whose curls streaming flaxen-golden, +By the misted moonbeams kist, +Dispread their filmy floating silk +Like honey steeped in milk: +So, vague goldenness remote, +Through my thoughts I watch thee float. +When the snake summer casts her blazoned skin +We find it at the turn of autumn's path, +And think it summer that rewinded hath, +Joying therein; +And this enamouring slough of thee, mine elf, +I take it for thyself; +Content. Content? Yea, title it content. +The very loves that belt thee must prevent +My love, I know, with their legitimacy: +As the metallic vapours, that are swept +Athwart the sun, in his light intercept +The very hues +Which THEIR conflagrant elements effuse. +But, my love, my heart, my fair, +That only I should see thee rare, +Or tent to the hid core thy rarity, - +This were a mournfulness more piercing far +Than that those other loves my own must bar, +Or thine for others leave thee none for me. + +But on a day whereof I think, +One shall dip his hand to drink +In that still water of thy soul, +And its imaged tremors race +Over thy joy-troubled face, +As the intervolved reflections roll +From a shaken fountain's brink, +With swift light wrinkling its alcove. +From the hovering wing of Love +The warm stain shall flit roseal on thy cheek, +Then, sweet blushet! whenas he, +The destined paramount of thy universe, +Who has no worlds to sigh for, ruling thee, +Ascends his vermeil throne of empery, +One grace alone I seek. +Oh! may this treasure-galleon of my verse, +Fraught with its golden passion, oared with cadent rhyme, +Set with a towering press of fantasies, +Drop safely down the time, +Leaving mine isled self behind it far +Soon to be sunken in the abysm of seas, +(As down the years the splendour voyages +From some long ruined and night-submerged star), +And in thy subject sovereign's havening heart +Anchor the freightage of its virgin ore; +Adding its wasteful more +To his own overflowing treasury. +So through his river mine shall reach thy sea, +Bearing its confluent part; +In his pulse mine shall thrill; +And the quick heart shall quicken from the heart that's still. + +Ah! help, my Daemon that hast served me well! +Not at this last, oh, do not me disgrace! +I faint, I sicken, darkens all my sight, +As, poised upon this unprevisioned height, +I lift into its place +The utmost aery traceried pinnacle. +So; it is builded, the high tenement, +- God grant--to mine intent! +Most like a palace of the Occident, +Up-thrusting, toppling maze on maze, +Its mounded blaze, +And washed by the sunset's rosy waves, +Whose sea drinks rarer hue from those rare walls it laves. +Yet wail, my spirits, wail! +So few therein to enter shall prevail! +Scarce fewer could win way, if their desire +A dragon baulked, with involuted spire, +And writhen snout spattered with yeasty fire. +For at the elfin portal hangs a horn +Which none can wind aright +Save the appointed knight +Whose lids the fay-wings brushed when he was born. +All others stray forlorn, +Or glimpsing, through the blazoned windows scrolled +Receding labyrinths lessening tortuously +In half obscurity; +With mystic images, inhuman, cold, +That flameless torches hold. +But who can wind that horn of might +(The horn of dead Heliades) aright, - +Straight +Open for him shall roll the conscious gate; +And light leap up from all the torches there, +And life leap up in every torchbearer, +And the stone faces kindle in the glow, +And into the blank eyes the irids grow, +And through the dawning irids ambushed meanings show. +Illumined this wise on, +He threads securely the far intricacies, +With brede from Heaven's wrought vesture overstrewn; +Swift Tellus' purfled tunic, girt upon +With the blown chlamys of her fluttering seas; +And the freaked kirtle of the pearled moon: +Until he gain the structure's core, where stands - +A toil of magic hands - +The unbodied spirit of the sorcerer, +Most strangely rare, +As is a vision remembered in the noon; +Unbodied, yet to mortal seeing clear, +Like sighs exhaled in eager atmosphere. +From human haps and mutabilities +It rests exempt, beneath the edifice +To which itself gave rise; +Sustaining centre to the bubble of stone +Which, breathed from it, exists by it alone. +Yea, ere Saturnian earth her child consumes, +And I lie down with outworn ossuaries, +Ere death's grim tongue anticipates the tomb's +Siste viator, in this storied urn +My living heart is laid to throb and burn, +Till end be ended, and till ceasing cease. + +And thou by whom this strain hath parentage; +Wantoner between the yet untreacherous claws +Of newly-whelped existence! ere he pause, +What gift to thee can yield the archimage? +For coming seasons' frets +What aids, what amulets, +What softenings, or what brightenings? +As Thunder writhes the lash of his long lightnings +About the growling heads of the brute main +Foaming at mouth, until it wallow again +In the scooped oozes of its bed of pain; +So all the gnashing jaws, the leaping heads +Of hungry menaces, and of ravening dreads, +Of pangs +Twitch-lipped, with quivering nostrils and immitigate fangs, +I scourge beneath the torment of my charms +That their repentless nature fear to work thee harms. +And as yon Apollonian harp-player, +Yon wandering psalterist of the sky, +With flickering strings which scatter melody, +The silver-stoled damsels of the sea, +Or lake, or fount, or stream, +Enchants from their ancestral heaven of waters +To Naiad it through the unfrothing air; +My song enchants so out of undulous dream +The glimmering shapes of its dim-tressed daughters, +And missions each to be thy minister. +Saying; "O ye, +The organ-stops of being's harmony; +The blushes on existence's pale face, +Lending it sudden grace; +Without whom we should but guess Heaven's worth +By blank negations of this sordid earth, +(So haply to the blind may light +Be but gloom's undetermined opposite); +Ye who are thus as the refracting air +Whereby we see Heaven's sun before it rise +Above the dull line of our mortal skies; +As breathing on the strained ear that sighs +From comrades viewless unto strained eyes, +Soothing our terrors in the lampless night; +Ye who can make this world where all is deeming +What world ye list, being arbiters of seeming; +Attend upon her ways, benignant powers! +Unroll ye life a carpet for her feet, +And cast ye down before them blossomy hours, +Until her going shall be clogged with sweet! +All dear emotions whose new-bathed hair, +Still streaming from the soul, in love's warm air +Smokes with a mist of tender fantasies; +All these, +And all the heart's wild growths which, swiftly bright, +Spring up the crimson agarics of a night, +No pain in withering, yet a joy arisen; +And all thin shapes more exquisitely rare, +More subtly fair, +Than these weak ministering words have spell to prison +Within the magic circle of this rhyme; +And all the fays who in our creedless clime +Have sadly ceased +Bearing to other children childhood's proper feast; +Whose robes are fluent crystal, crocus-hued, +Whose wings are wind a-fire, whose mantles wrought +From spray that falling rainbows shake +These, ye familiars to my wizard thought, +Make things of journal custom unto her; +With lucent feet imbrued, +If young Day tread, a glorious vintager, +The wine-press of the purple-foamed east; +Or round the nodding sun, flush-faced and sunken, +His wild bacchantes drunken +Reel, with rent woofs a-flaunt, their westering rout. +- But lo! at length the day is lingered out, +At length my Ariel lays his viol by; +We sing no more to thee, child, he and I; +The day is lingered out: +In slow wreaths folden +Around yon censer, sphered, golden, +Vague Vesper's fumes aspire; +And glimmering to eclipse +The long laburnum drips +Its honey of wild flame, its jocund spilth of fire. + +Now pass your ways, fair bird, and pass your ways, +If you will; +I have you through the days! +A flit or hold you still, +And perch you where you list +On what wrist, - +You are mine through the times! +I have caught you fast for ever in a tangle of sweet rhymes. +And in your young maiden morn, +You may scorn, +But you must be +Bound and sociate to me; +With this thread from out the tomb my dead hand shall tether thee! + +Go, sister-songs, to that sweet sister-pair +For whom I have your frail limbs fashioned, +And framed feateously; - +For whom I have your frail limbs fashioned +With how great shamefastness and how great dread, +Knowing you frail, but not if you be fair, +Though framed feateously; +Go unto them from me. +Go from my shadow to their sunshine sight, +Made for all sights' delight; +Go like twin swans that oar the surgy storms +To bate with pennoned snows in candent air: +Nigh with abased head, +Yourselves linked sisterly, that sister-pair, +And go in presence there; +Saying--"Your young eyes cannot see our forms, +Nor read the yearning of our looks aright; +But time shall trail the veilings from our hair, +And cleanse your seeing with his euphrasy, +(Yea, even your bright seeing make more bright, +Which is all sights' delight), +And ye shall know us for what things we be. + +"Whilom, within a poet's calyxed heart, +A dewy love we trembled all apart; +Whence it took rise +Beneath your radiant eyes, +Which misted it to music. We must long, +A floating haze of silver subtile song, +Await love-laden +Above each maiden +The appointed hour that o'er the hearts of you - +As vapours into dew +Unweave, whence they were wove, - +Shall turn our loosening musics back to love." + + + +INSCRIPTION + + + +When the last stir of bubbling melodies +Broke as my chants sank underneath the wave +Of dulcitude, but sank again to rise +Where man's embaying mind those waters lave, +(For music hath its Oceanides +Flexuously floating through their parent seas, +And such are these), +I saw a vision--or may it be +The effluence of a dear desired reality? +I saw two spirits high, - +Two spirits, dim within the silver smoke +Which is for ever woke +By snowing lights of fountained Poesy. +Two shapes they were familiar as love; +They were those souls, whereof +One twines from finest gracious daily things, +Strong, constant, noticeless, as are heart-strings +The golden cage wherein this song-bird sings; +And the other's sun gives hue to all my flowers, +Which else pale flowers of Tartarus would grow, +Where ghosts watch ghosts of blooms in ghostly bowers; - +For we do know +The hidden player by his harmonies, +And by my thoughts I know what still hands thrill the keys. + +And to these twain--as from the mind's abysses +All thoughts draw toward the awakening heart's sweet kisses, +With proffer of their wreathen fantasies, - +Even so to these +I saw how many brought their garlands fair, +Whether of song, or simple love, they were, - +Of simple love, that makes best garlands fair. +But one I marked who lingered still behind, +As for such souls no seemly gift had he: +He was not of their strain, +Nor worthy of so bright beings to entertain, +Nor fit compeer for such high company. +Yet was he, surely, born to them in mind, +Their youngest nursling of the spirit's kind. +Last stole this one, +With timid glance, of watching eyes adread, +And dropped his frightened flower when all were gone; +And where the frail flower fell, it withered. +But yet methought those high souls smiled thereon; +As when a child, upstraining at your knees +Some fond and fancied nothings, says, "I give you these!" + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Sister Songs, by Francis Thompson + diff --git a/old/ssngs10.zip b/old/ssngs10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..46f4b29 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ssngs10.zip |