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+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Dark Month, by Algernon Charles Swinburne.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Dark Month, by Algernon Charles Swinburne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Dark Month
+       From Swinburne's Collected Poetical Works Vol. V
+
+Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne
+
+Release Date: June 7, 2006 [EBook #18524]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DARK MONTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Pryor, Paul Murray and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>A Dark Month</h1>
+
+
+<p class="center">By</p>
+<p class="center big">Algernon Charles Swinburne</p>
+
+<p class="center">Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of
+Algernon Charles Swinburne (Vol. V)
+</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="biggap center">
+THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS<br />
+OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE</p>
+
+
+<p class="center gaplet">VOL. V</p>
+
+<p class="narrow center bigger">STUDIES IN SONG : A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS : SONNETS ON
+ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS : THE HEPTALOGIA : ETC.
+</p>
+
+
+
+<h2>SWINBURNE'S POETICAL WORKS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table summary="List of volumes in the series">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="toright">I.</td><td class="toc"><span class="smcap">Poems and
+      Ballads</span> (First Series).
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="toright">II.</td><td class="toc"><span class="smcap">Songs before Sunrise</span>, and <span class="smcap">Songs of Two Nations.</span>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="toright">III.</td><td class="toc"><span class="smcap">Poems and Ballads</span> (Second and Third Series), and <span class="smcap">Songs of The Spring tides.</span>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="toright">IV.</td><td class="toc"><span class="smcap">Tristram of Lyonesse, The Tale of Balen, Atalanta in Calydon,
+Erechtheus.</span>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="toright">V.</td><td class="toc"><span class="smcap">Studies in Song, A Century of Roundels, Sonnets on English
+Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc.</span>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="toright">VI.</td><td class="toc"><span class="smcap">A Midsummer Holiday, Astrophel, A Channel Passage and Other Poems.</span>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+<p class="center little">LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN</p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="STUDIES_IN_SONG_A_CENTURY_OF_ROUNDELS_SONNETS_ON" id="STUDIES_IN_SONG_A_CENTURY_OF_ROUNDELS_SONNETS_ON"></a>STUDIES IN SONG : A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS : SONNETS ON
+ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS : THE HEPTALOGIA : ETC.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">By</p>
+
+<p class="center big">Algernon Charles Swinburne</p>
+
+
+<p class="center little biggap">1917<br />
+LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table summary="Printing information">
+  <tr><td>
+<p class="biggap little">
+<i>First printed (Chatto), 1904</i><br />
+<i>Reprinted 1904, '09, '10, '12</i><br />
+<i>(Heinemann), 1917</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="little"><i>London: William Heinemann, 1917</i></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+
+<hr  />
+<h2><a name="A_DARK_MONTH" id="A_DARK_MONTH"></a>A DARK MONTH</h2>
+
+<p class="little center narrow gap">"La maison sans enfants!"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Victor Hugo.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h3><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a><span class="pagenum">321</span>I</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A month without sight of the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rising or reigning or setting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through days without use of the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who calls it the month of May?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sense of the name is undone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the sound of it fit for forgetting.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We shall not feel if the sun rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We shall not care when it sets:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If a nightingale make night's air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As noontide, why should we care?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till a light of delight that is done rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Extinguishing grey regrets;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Till a child's face lighten again<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the twilight of older faces;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till a child's voice fall as the dew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On furrows with heat parched through<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all but hopeless of grain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Refreshing the desolate places&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fall clear on the ears of us hearkening<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hungering for food of the sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thirsting for joy of his voice:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the hearts in us hear and rejoice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thoughts of them doubting and darkening<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rejoice with a glad thing found. <br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322"></a><span class="pagenum">322</span>When the heart of our gladness is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What comfort is left with us after?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the light of our eyes is away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What glory remains upon May,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What blessing of song is thereon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If we drink not the light of his laughter?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No small sweet face with the daytime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To welcome, warmer than noon!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No sweet small voice as a bird's<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bring us the day's first words!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mid May for us here is not Maytime:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No summer begins with June.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A whole dead month in the dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A dawn in the mists that o'ercome her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stifled and smothered and sad&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swift speed to it, barren and bad!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And return to us, voice of the lark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And remain with us, sunlight of summer.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323"></a><span class="pagenum">323</span> II</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alas, what right has the dawn to glimmer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What right has the wind to do aught but moan?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the day should be dimmer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Because we are left alone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yestermorn like a sunbeam present<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hither and thither a light step smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And made each place for us pleasant<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the sense or the sight of a child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But the leaves persist as before, and after<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our parting the dull day still bears flowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And songs less bright than his laughter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Deride us from birds in the bowers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Birds, and blossoms, and sunlight only,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As though such folly sufficed for spring!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As though the house were not lonely<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For want of the child its king!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324"></a><span class="pagenum">324</span> III</h3>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Asleep and afar to-night my darling<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lies, and heeds not the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If winds be stirring or storms be snarling;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For his sleep is its own sweet light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I sit where he sat beside me quaffing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wine of story and song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poured forth of immortal cups, and laughing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When mirth in the draught grew strong.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I broke the gold of the words, to melt it<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For hands but seven years old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they caught the tale as a bird, and felt it<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">More bright than visible gold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And he drank down deep, with his eyes broad beaming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here in this room where I am,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The golden vintage of Shakespeare, gleaming<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the silver vessels of Lamb.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here by my hearth where he was I listen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the shade of the sound of a word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Athirst for the birdlike eyes to glisten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the tongue to chirp like a bird.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325"></a><span class="pagenum">325</span> At the blast of battle, how broad they brightened,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like fire in the spheres of stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clung to the pictured page, and lightened<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As keen as the heart of Mars!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At the touch of laughter, how swift it twittered<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The shrillest music on earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How the lithe limbs laughed and the whole child glittered<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With radiant riot of mirth!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our Shakespeare now, as a man dumb-stricken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stands silent there on the shelf:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my thoughts, that had song in the heart of them, sicken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And relish not Shakespeare's self.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And my mood grows moodier than Hamlet's even,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And man delights not me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But only the face that morn and even<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My heart leapt only to see.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That my heart made merry within me seeing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sang as his laugh kept time:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But song finds now no pleasure in being,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And love no reason in rhyme.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326"></a><span class="pagenum">326</span> IV</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mild May-blossom and proud sweet bay-flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What, for shame, would you have with us here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not the month of the May-flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This, but the fall of the year.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flowers open only their lips in derision,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Leaves are as fingers that point in scorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shows we see are a vision;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spring is not verily born.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet boughs turn supple and buds grow sappy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As though the sun were indeed the sun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all our woods are happy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With all their birds save one.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But spring is over, but summer is over,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But autumn is over, and winter stands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With his feet sunk deep in the clover<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And cowslips cold in his hands.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His hoar grim head has a hawthorn bonnet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His gnarled gaunt hand has a gay green staff<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With new-blown rose-blossom on it:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But his laugh is a dead man's laugh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327"></a><span class="pagenum">327</span> The laugh of spring that the heart seeks after,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hand that the whole world yearns to kiss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It rings not here in his laughter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sign of it is not this.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is not strength in it left to splinter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tall oaks, nor frost in his breath to sting:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet it is but a breath as of winter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And it is not the hand of spring.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328"></a><span class="pagenum">328</span> V</h3>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thirty-one pale maidens, clad<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All in mourning dresses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pass, with lips and eyes more sad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That it seems they should be glad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heads discrowned of crowns they had,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grey for golden tresses.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Grey their girdles too for green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And their veils dishevelled:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">None would say, to see their mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the least of these had been<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Born no baser than a queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Reared where flower-fays revelled.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dreams that strive to seem awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ghosts that walk by daytime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weary winds the way they take,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since, for one child's absent sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May knows well, whate'er things make<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sport, it is not Maytime.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329"></a><span class="pagenum">329</span> VI</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A hand at the door taps light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the hand of my heart's delight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It is but a full-grown hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet the stroke of it seems to start<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hope like a bird in my heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Too feeble to soar or to stand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To start light hope from her cover<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is to raise but a kite for a plover<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If her wings be not fledged to soar.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Desire, but in dreams, cannot ope<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The door that was shut upon hope<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When love went out at the door.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well were it if vision could keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lids of desire as in sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fast locked, and over his eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dream with the dark soft key<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her hand might hover, and be<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their keeper till morning rise;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The morning that brings after many<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Days fled with no light upon any<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The small face back which is gone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the loved little hands once more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall struggle and strain at the door<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They beat their summons upon.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330"></a><span class="pagenum">330</span> VII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If a soul for but seven days were cast out of heaven and its mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They would seem to her fears like as seventy years upon earth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even and morrow should seem to her sorrow as long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the passage of numberless ages in slumberless song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dawn, roused by the lark, would be surely as dark in her sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As her measureless measure of shadowless pleasure was bright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Noon, gilt but with glory of gold, would be hoary and grey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her eyes that had gazed on the depths, unamazed with the day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Night hardly would seem to make darker her dream never done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When it could but withhold what a man may behold of the sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331"></a><span class="pagenum">331</span> For dreams would perplex, were the days that should vex her but seven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sight of her vision, made dark with division from heaven.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Till the light on my lonely way lighten that only now gleams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I too am divided from heaven and derided of dreams.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332"></a><span class="pagenum">332</span> VIII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A twilight fire-fly may suggest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How flames the fire that feeds the sun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"A crooked figure may attest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In little space a million."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But this faint-figured verse, that dresses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With flowers the bones of one bare month,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all it would say scarce expresses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In crooked ways a millionth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A fire-fly tenders to the father<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of fires a tribute something worth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My verse, a shard-borne beetle rather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Drones over scarce-illumined earth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some inches round me though it brighten<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With light of music-making thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dark indeed it may not lighten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The silence moves not, hearing nought.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Only my heart is eased with hearing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Only mine eyes are soothed with seeing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A face brought nigh, a footfall nearing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till hopes take form and dreams have being.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333"></a><span class="pagenum">333</span> IX</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a poor man hungering stands with insatiate eyes and hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Void of bread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Right in sight of men that feast while his famine with no least<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Crumb is fed,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here across the garden-wall can I hear strange children call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Watch them play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the windowed seat above, whence the goodlier child I love<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Is away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here the sights we saw together moved his fancy like a feather<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">To and fro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now to wonder, and thereafter to the sunny storm of laughter<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Loud and low&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sights engraven on storied pages where man's tale of seven swift ages<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">All was told&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seen of eyes yet bright from heaven&mdash;for the lips that laughed were seven<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Sweet years old.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334"></a><span class="pagenum">334</span> X</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why should May remember<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">March, if March forget<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The days that began with December<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The nights that a frost could fret?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All their griefs are done with<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now the bright months bless<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fit souls to rejoice in the sun with,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fit heads for the wind's caress;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Souls of children quickening<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the whole world's mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heads closelier than field-flowers thickening<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That crowd and illuminate earth,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now that May's call musters<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Files of baby bands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To marshal in joyfuller clusters<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than the flowers that encumber their hands.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet morose November<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Found them no less gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With nought to forget or remember<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Less bright than a branch of may.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335"></a><span class="pagenum">335</span> All the seasons moving<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Move their minds alike<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Applauding, acclaiming, approving<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All hours of the year that strike.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So my heart may fret not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wondering if my friend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remember me not or forget not<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or ever the month find end.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not that love sows lighter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seed in children sown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But that life being lit in them brighter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Moves fleeter than even our own.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May nor yet September<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Binds their hearts, that yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remember, forget, and remember,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forget, and recall, and forget.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336"></a><span class="pagenum">336</span> XI</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As light on a lake's face moving<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Between a cloud and a cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till night reclaim it, reproving<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The heart that exults too loud,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The heart that watching rejoices<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When soft it swims into sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Applauded of all the voices<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And stars of the windy night,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So brief and unsure, but sweeter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than ever a moondawn smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moves, measured of no tune's metre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The song in the soul of a child;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The song that the sweet soul singing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half listens, and hardly hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though sweeter than joy-bells ringing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And brighter than joy's own tears;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The song that remembrance of pleasure<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Begins, and forgetfulness ends<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a soft swift change in the measure<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That rings in remembrance of friends<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337"></a><span class="pagenum">337</span> As the moon on the lake's face flashes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So haply may gleam at whiles<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dream through the dear deep lashes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whereunder a child's eye smiles,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the least of us all that love him<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May take for a moment part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With angels around and above him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I find place in his heart.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338"></a><span class="pagenum">338</span> XII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Child, were you kinless and lonely&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dear, were you kin to me&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My love were compassionate only<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or such as it needs would be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But eyes of father and mother<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like sunlight shed on you shine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What need you have heed of another<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such new strange love as is mine?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is not meet if unruly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hands take of the children's bread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cast it to dogs; but truly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dogs after all would be fed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On crumbs from the children's table<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That crumble, dropped from above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart feeds, fed with unstable<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Loose waifs of a child's light love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though love in your heart were brittle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As glass that breaks with a touch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You haply would lend him a little<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who surely would give you much.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339"></a><span class="pagenum">339</span> XIII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here is a rough<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rude sketch of my friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faint-coloured enough<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And unworthily penned.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fearlessly fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And triumphant he stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And holds unaware<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Friends' hearts in his hands;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stalwart and straight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As an oak that should bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth gallant and great<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fresh roses in spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On the paths of his pleasure<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All graces that wait<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What metre shall measure<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What rhyme shall relate<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Each action, each motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each feature, each limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Demands a devotion<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In honour of him:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340"></a><span class="pagenum">340</span> Head that the hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of a god might have blest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laid lustrous and bland<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the curve of its crest:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mouth sweeter than cherries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Keen eyes as of Mars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Browner than berries<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And brighter than stars.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor colour nor wordy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weak song can declare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stature how sturdy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How stalwart his air.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a king in his bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Presence-chamber may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So seems he in height&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Twice higher than your knee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a warrior sedate<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With reserve of his power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So seems he in state&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As tall as a flower:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a rose overtowering<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The ranks of the rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That beneath it lie cowering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Less bright than their best.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And his hands are as sunny<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As ruddy ripe corn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the browner-hued honey<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From heather-bells borne.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341"></a><span class="pagenum">341</span> When summer sits proudest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fulfilled with its mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rapture is loudest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In air and on earth,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The suns of all hours<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That have ripened the roots<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bring forth not such flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And beget not such fruits.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And well though I know it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As fain would I write,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Child, never a poet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Could praise you aright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I bless you? the blessing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were less than a jest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too poor for expressing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I come to be blest,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With humble and dutiful<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heart, from above:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bless me, O my beautiful<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Innocent love!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This rhyme in your praise<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a smile was begun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the goal of his ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is uncovered to none,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor pervious till after<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The limit impend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not in laughter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These rhymes of you end.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342"></a><span class="pagenum">342</span> XIV</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spring, and fall, and summer, and winter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which may Earth love least of them all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose arms embrace as their signs imprint her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Summer, or winter, or spring, or fall?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The clear-eyed spring with the wood-birds mating,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The rose-red summer with eyes aglow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The yellow fall with serene eyes waiting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wild-eyed winter with hair all snow?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spring's eyes are soft, but if frosts benumb her<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As winter's own will her shrewd breath sting:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Storms may rend the raiment of summer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fall grow bitter as harsh-lipped spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One sign for summer and winter guides me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One for spring, and the like for fall:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whichever from sight of my friend divides me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That is the worst ill season of all.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343"></a><span class="pagenum">343</span> XV</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Worse than winter is spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If I come not to sight of my king:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But then what a spring will it be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When my king takes homage of me!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I send his grace from afar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Homage, as though to a star;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a shepherd whose flock takes flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May worship a star by night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a flock that a wolf is upon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My songs take flight and are gone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No heart is in any to sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aught but the praise of my king.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fain would I once and again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing deeds and passions of men:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ever a child's head gleams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between my work and my dreams.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Between my hand and my eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lines of a small face rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lines I trace and retrace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are none but those of the face.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344"></a><span class="pagenum">344</span> XVI</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Till the tale of all this flock of days alike<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All be done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weary days of waiting till the month's hand strike<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thirty-one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the clock's hand of the month break off, and end<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With the clock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the last and whitest sheep at last be penned<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the flock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I their shepherd keep the count of night and day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With my song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though my song be, like this month which once was May,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All too long.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345"></a><span class="pagenum">345</span> XVII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The incarnate sun, a tall strong youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On old Greek eyes in sculpture smiled:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But trulier had it given the truth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To shape him like a child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No face full-grown of all our dearest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So lightens all our darkness, none<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most loved of all our hearts hold nearest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><a name="corr1" id="corr1"></a><a href="#tn" class="correction" title="Thus in original">To far</a> outshines the sun,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As when with sly shy smiles that feign<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Doubt if the hour be clear, the time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fit to break off my work again<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or sport of prose or rhyme,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My friend peers in on me with merry<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wise face, and though the sky stay dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The very light of day, the very<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sun's self comes in with him.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346"></a><span class="pagenum">346</span> XVIII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Out of sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out of mind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could the light<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Prove unkind?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Can the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Quite forget<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What was done<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ere he set?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Does the moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When she wanes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave no tune<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That remains<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the void<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shell of night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Overcloyed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With her light?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Must the shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At low tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Feel no more<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hope or pride,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No intense<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Joy to be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the sense<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the sea&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347"></a><span class="pagenum">347</span> In the pulses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of her shocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It repulses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When its rocks<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thrill and ring<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As with glee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has my king<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cast off me,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whom no bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flying south<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brings one word<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From his mouth?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not the ghost<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of a word.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Riding post<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Have I heard,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Since the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When my king<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took away<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With him spring,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the cup<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of each flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shrivelled up<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That same hour,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With no light<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Left behind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out of mind!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348"></a><span class="pagenum">348</span> XIX</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Because I adore you<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the knees of my spirit before you&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">After all,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You need not insult,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My king,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With neglect, though your spirit exult<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the spring,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even me, though not worth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">God knows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One word of you sent me in mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or one rose<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Out of all in your garden<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That grow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the frost and the wind never harden<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flakes of snow,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor ever is rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the roses rejoice to remain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fair and tall&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349"></a><span class="pagenum">349</span> The roses of love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">More sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than blossoms that rain from above<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Round our feet,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When under high bowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the west wind freckles with flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the grass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But a child's thoughts bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">More bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet visions by day, and more fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dreams by night,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Than summer's whole treasure<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Can be:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What am I that his thought should take pleasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then, in me?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am only my love's<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">True lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a nestful of songs, like doves<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Under cover,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That I bring in my cap<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fresh caught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be laid on my small king's lap&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Worth just nought.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet it haply may hap<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the mirth in his veins is as sap<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a tree,<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350"></a><span class="pagenum">350</span> Will remember me too<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere the transit be thoroughly through<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of this May&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or perchance, if such grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some night when I dream of his face.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dream of me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or if this be too high<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A hope<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For me to prefigure in my<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Horoscope,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He may dream of the place<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where we<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Basked once in the light of his face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who now see<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nought brighter, not one<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thing bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than the stars and the moon and the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Day nor night.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351"></a><span class="pagenum">351</span> XX</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Day by darkling day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Overpassing, bears away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Somewhat of the burden of this weary May.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Night by numbered night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Waning, brings more near in sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hope that grows to vision of my heart's delight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Nearer seems to burn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the dawn's rekindling urn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flame of fragrant incense, hailing his return.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Louder seems each bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the brightening branches heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still to speak some ever more delightful word.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">All the mists that swim<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Round the dawns that grow less dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still wax brighter and more bright with hope of him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">All the suns that rise<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bring that day more near our eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the sight of him shall clear our clouded skies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">All the winds that roam<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fruitful fields or fruitless foam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blow the bright hour near that brings his bright face home.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352"></a><span class="pagenum">352</span> XXI</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I hear of two far hence<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a garden met,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fragrance blown from thence<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fades not yet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The one is seven years old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And my friend is he:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the years of the other have told<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Eighty-three.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To hear these twain converse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or to see them greet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were sweeter than softest verse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May be sweet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The hoar old gardener there<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With an eye more mild<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance than his mild white hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Meets the child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I had rather hear the words<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That the twain exchange<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than the songs of all the birds<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There that range,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353"></a><span class="pagenum">353</span> Call, chirp, and twitter there<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the garden-beds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the sun alike sees fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those two heads,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And which may holier be<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Held in heaven of those<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or more worth heart's thanks to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No man knows.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354"></a><span class="pagenum">354</span> XXII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of such is the kingdom of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No glory that ever was shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the crowning star of the seven<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That crown the north world's head,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No word that ever was spoken<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of human or godlike tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gave ever such godlike token<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since human harps were strung.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No sign that ever was given<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To faithful or faithless eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed ever beyond clouds riven<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So clear a Paradise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Earth's creeds may be seventy times seven<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And blood have defiled each creed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If of such be the kingdom of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It must be heaven indeed.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355"></a><span class="pagenum">355</span> XXIII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The wind on the downs is bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As though from the sea:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And morning and night<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Take comfort again with me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is nearer to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each night to each morning saith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose return shall revive dead May<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the balm of his breath.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sunset says to the moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He is nearer to-night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose coming in June<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is looked for more than the light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Bird answers to bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hour passes the sign on to hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for joy of the bright news heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flower murmurs to flower.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ways that were glad of his feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the woods that he knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grow softer to meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sense of his footfall anew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is near now as day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Says hope to the new-born light:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He is near now as June is to May,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Says love to the night.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356"></a><span class="pagenum">356</span> XXIV</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good things I keep to console me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For lack of the best of all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A child to command and control me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bid come and remain at his call.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sun, wind, and woodland and highland,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Give all that ever they gave:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But my world is a cultureless island,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My spirit a masterless slave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And friends are about me, and better<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At summons of no man stand:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I pine for the touch of a fetter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The curb of a strong king's hand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Each hour of the day in her season<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is mine to be served as I will:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for no more exquisite reason<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are all served idly and ill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By slavery my sense is corrupted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My soul not fit to be free:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would fain be controlled, interrupted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Compelled as a thrall may be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For fault of spur and of bridle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I tire of my stall to death:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My sail flaps joyless and idle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For want of a small child's breath.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357"></a><span class="pagenum">357</span> XXV</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whiter and whiter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dark lines grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And broader opens and brighter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sense of the text below.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nightfall and morrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bring nigher the boy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom wanting we want not sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whom having we want no joy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Clearer and clearer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sweet sense grows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the word which hath summer for hearer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The word on the lips of the rose.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Duskily dwindles<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each deathlike day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till June rearising rekindles<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The depth of the darkness of May.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358"></a><span class="pagenum">358</span> XXVI</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 little">"In his bright radiance and collateral light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 little">Must I be comforted, not in his sphere."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stars in heaven are many,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Suns in heaven but one:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor for man may any<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Star supplant the sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Many a child as joyous<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As our far-off king<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meets as though to annoy us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the paths of spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sure as spring gives warning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All things dance in tune:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sun on Easter morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cloud and windy moon,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stars between the tossing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Boughs of tuneful trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sails of ships recrossing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Leagues of dancing seas;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Best, in all this playtime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Best of all in tune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Girls more glad than Maytime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Boys more bright than June;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359"></a><span class="pagenum">359</span> Mixed with all those dances,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far through field and street<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing their silent glances,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring their radiant feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flowers wherewith May crowned us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fall ere June be crowned:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Children blossom round us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the whole year round.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is the garland worthless<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For one rose the less,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the feast made mirthless?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Love, at least, says yes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Strange it were, with many<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stars enkindling air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should but one find any<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Welcome: strange it were,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Had one star alone won<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Praise for light from far:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, love needs his own one<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bright particular star.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hope and recollection<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Only lead him right<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In its bright reflection<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And collateral light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Find as yet we may not<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Comfort in its sphere:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet these days will weigh not<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When it warms us here;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360"></a><span class="pagenum">360</span> When full-orbed it rises,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now divined afar:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">None in all the skies is<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half so good a star;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">None that seers importune<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till a sign be won:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Star of our good fortune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rise and reign, our sun!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361"></a><span class="pagenum">361</span> XXVII</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I pass by the small room now forlorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where once each night as I passed I knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A child's bright sleep from even to morn<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made sweet the whole night through.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a soundless shell, as a songless nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seems now the room that was radiant then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fragrant with his happier rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than that of slumbering men.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The day therein is less than the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The night is indeed night now therein:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavier the dark seems there to weigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And slower the dawns begin.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a nest fulfilled with birds, as a shell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fulfilled with breath of a god's own hymn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again shall be this bare blank cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made sweet again with him.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362"></a><span class="pagenum">362</span> XXVIII<br /></h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spring darkens before us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A flame going down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With chant from the chorus<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of days without crown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cloud, rain, and sonorous<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Soft wind on the down.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She is wearier not of us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than we of the dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That spring was to love us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And joy was to gleam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the shadows above us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That shift as they stream.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Half dark and half hoary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Float far on the loud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mild wind, as a glory<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half pale and half proud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the twilight of story,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her tresses of cloud;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Like phantoms that glimmer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of glories of old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ever yet dimmer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pale circlets of gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As darkness grows grimmer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And memory more cold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363"></a><span class="pagenum">363</span> Like hope growing clearer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With wane of the moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shines toward us the nearer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gold frontlet of June,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a face with it dearer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than midsummer noon.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364"></a><span class="pagenum">364</span> XXIX</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You send me your love in a letter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I send you my love in a song:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah child, your gift is the better,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mine does you but wrong.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No fame, were the best less brittle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No praise, were it wide as earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is worth so much as a little<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Child's love may be worth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We see the children above us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As they might angels above:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come back to us, child, if you love us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bring us your love.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365"></a><span class="pagenum">365</span> XXX</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No time for books or for letters:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What time should there be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No room for tasks and their fetters:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full room to be free.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The wind and the sun and the Maytime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Had never a guest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More worthy the most that his playtime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Could give of its best.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If rain should come on, peradventure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(But sunshine forbid!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vain hope in us haply might venture<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To dream as it did.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But never may come, of all comers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Least welcome, the rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mix with his servant the summer's<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rose-garlanded train!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He would write, but his hours are as busy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As bees in the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the jubilant whirl of their dizzy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dance never is done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The message is more than a letter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let love understand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thought of his joys even better<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than sight of his hand.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366"></a><span class="pagenum">366</span> XXXI</h3>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Wind, high-souled, full-hearted<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">South-west wind of the spring!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ere April and earth had parted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Skies, bright with thy forward wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grew dark in an hour with the shadow behind it, that bade not a bird dare sing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Wind whose feet are sunny,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Wind whose wings are cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With lips more sweet than honey<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Still, speak they low or loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rejoice now again in the strength of thine heart: let the depth of thy soul wax proud.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">We hear thee singing or sighing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Just not given to sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All but visibly flying<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Between the clouds and the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the light in our hearts is enkindled, the shadow therein of the clouds put to flight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">From the gift of thine hands we gather<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The core of the flowers therein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Keen glad heart of heather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hot sweet heart of whin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twin breaths in thy godlike breath close blended of wild spring's wildest of kin.<a name="Page_367" id="Page_367"></a><span class="pagenum">367</span> <br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">All but visibly beating<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We feel thy wings in the far<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Clear waste, and the plumes of them fleeting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Soft as swan's plumes are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And strong as a wild swan's pinions, and swift as the flash of the flight of a star.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">As the flight of a planet enkindled<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Seems thy far soft flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now May's reign has dwindled<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And the crescent of June takes light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the presence of summer is here, and the hope of a welcomer presence in sight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Wind, sweet-souled, great-hearted<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Southwest wind on the wold!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From us is a glory departed<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That now shall return as of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Borne back on thy wings as an eagle's expanding, and crowned with the sundawn's gold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">There is not a flower but rejoices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">There is not a leaf but has heard:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All the fields find voices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All the woods are stirred:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is not a nest but is brighter because of the coming of one bright bird.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Out of dawn and morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Noon and afternoon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sun to the world gives warning<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of news that brightens the moon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the stars all night exult with us, hearing of joy that shall come with June.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="transnote"><h4><a name="tn" id="tn"></a>Transcriber's note</h4>
+<p><a href="#corr1">The line</a> in number VII</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To far outshines the sun,<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>appears thus in the original. It may be a misprint.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Dark Month, by Algernon Charles Swinburne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Dark Month
+       From Swinburne's Collected Poetical Works Vol. V
+
+Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne
+
+Release Date: June 7, 2006 [EBook #18524]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DARK MONTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Pryor, Paul Murray and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A Dark Month
+
+
+By
+Algernon Charles Swinburne
+
+Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of
+Algernon Charles Swinburne (Vol. V)
+
+
+
+
+THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS
+OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE
+
+
+VOL. V
+
+STUDIES IN SONG : A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS : SONNETS ON
+ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS : THE HEPTALOGIA : ETC.
+
+
+
+
+SWINBURNE'S POETICAL WORKS
+
+
+   I. POEMS AND BALLADS (First Series).
+
+  II. SONGS BEFORE SUNRISE, and SONGS OF TWO NATIONS.
+
+ III. POEMS AND BALLADS (Second and Third Series), and
+      SONGS OF THE SPRING TIDES.
+
+  IV. TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE, THE TALE OF BALEN,
+      ATALANTA IN CALYDON, ERECHTHEUS.
+
+   V. STUDIES IN SONG, A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS, SONNETS ON ENGLISH
+      DRAMATIC POETS, THE HEPTALOGIA, ETC.
+
+  VI. A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY, ASTROPHEL, A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER
+      POEMS.
+
+
+LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+
+
+
+
+STUDIES IN SONG : A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS : SONNETS ON
+ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS : THE HEPTALOGIA : ETC.
+
+By
+
+Algernon Charles Swinburne
+
+
+1917
+
+LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+
+
+
+
+_First printed (Chatto), 1904_
+_Reprinted 1904, '09, '10, '12_
+_(Heinemann), 1917_
+
+
+_London: William Heinemann, 1917_
+
+
+
+
+A DARK MONTH
+
+"La maison sans enfants!"--VICTOR HUGO.
+
+
+    I
+
+    A month without sight of the sun
+      Rising or reigning or setting
+    Through days without use of the day,
+    Who calls it the month of May?
+    The sense of the name is undone
+      And the sound of it fit for forgetting.
+
+    We shall not feel if the sun rise,
+      We shall not care when it sets:
+    If a nightingale make night's air
+    As noontide, why should we care?
+    Till a light of delight that is done rise,
+      Extinguishing grey regrets;
+
+    Till a child's face lighten again
+      On the twilight of older faces;
+    Till a child's voice fall as the dew
+    On furrows with heat parched through
+    And all but hopeless of grain,
+      Refreshing the desolate places--
+
+    Fall clear on the ears of us hearkening
+      And hungering for food of the sound
+    And thirsting for joy of his voice:
+    Till the hearts in us hear and rejoice,
+    And the thoughts of them doubting and darkening
+      Rejoice with a glad thing found.
+
+    When the heart of our gladness is gone,
+      What comfort is left with us after?
+    When the light of our eyes is away,
+    What glory remains upon May,
+    What blessing of song is thereon
+      If we drink not the light of his laughter?
+
+    No small sweet face with the daytime
+      To welcome, warmer than noon!
+    No sweet small voice as a bird's
+    To bring us the day's first words!
+    Mid May for us here is not Maytime:
+      No summer begins with June.
+
+    A whole dead month in the dark,
+      A dawn in the mists that o'ercome her
+    Stifled and smothered and sad--
+    Swift speed to it, barren and bad!
+    And return to us, voice of the lark,
+      And remain with us, sunlight of summer.
+
+
+    II
+
+    Alas, what right has the dawn to glimmer,
+      What right has the wind to do aught but moan?
+    All the day should be dimmer
+      Because we are left alone.
+
+    Yestermorn like a sunbeam present
+      Hither and thither a light step smiled,
+    And made each place for us pleasant
+      With the sense or the sight of a child.
+
+    But the leaves persist as before, and after
+      Our parting the dull day still bears flowers;
+    And songs less bright than his laughter
+      Deride us from birds in the bowers.
+
+    Birds, and blossoms, and sunlight only,
+      As though such folly sufficed for spring!
+    As though the house were not lonely
+      For want of the child its king!
+
+
+    III
+
+    Asleep and afar to-night my darling
+      Lies, and heeds not the night,
+    If winds be stirring or storms be snarling;
+      For his sleep is its own sweet light.
+
+    I sit where he sat beside me quaffing
+      The wine of story and song
+    Poured forth of immortal cups, and laughing
+      When mirth in the draught grew strong.
+
+    I broke the gold of the words, to melt it
+      For hands but seven years old,
+    And they caught the tale as a bird, and felt it
+      More bright than visible gold.
+
+    And he drank down deep, with his eyes broad beaming,
+      Here in this room where I am,
+    The golden vintage of Shakespeare, gleaming
+      In the silver vessels of Lamb.
+
+    Here by my hearth where he was I listen
+      For the shade of the sound of a word,
+    Athirst for the birdlike eyes to glisten,
+      For the tongue to chirp like a bird.
+
+    At the blast of battle, how broad they brightened,
+      Like fire in the spheres of stars,
+    And clung to the pictured page, and lightened
+      As keen as the heart of Mars!
+
+    At the touch of laughter, how swift it twittered
+      The shrillest music on earth;
+    How the lithe limbs laughed and the whole child glittered
+      With radiant riot of mirth!
+
+    Our Shakespeare now, as a man dumb-stricken,
+      Stands silent there on the shelf:
+    And my thoughts, that had song in the heart of them, sicken,
+      And relish not Shakespeare's self.
+
+    And my mood grows moodier than Hamlet's even,
+      And man delights not me,
+    But only the face that morn and even
+      My heart leapt only to see.
+
+    That my heart made merry within me seeing,
+      And sang as his laugh kept time:
+    But song finds now no pleasure in being,
+      And love no reason in rhyme.
+
+
+    IV
+
+    Mild May-blossom and proud sweet bay-flower,
+      What, for shame, would you have with us here?
+    It is not the month of the May-flower
+      This, but the fall of the year.
+
+    Flowers open only their lips in derision,
+      Leaves are as fingers that point in scorn
+    The shows we see are a vision;
+      Spring is not verily born.
+
+    Yet boughs turn supple and buds grow sappy,
+      As though the sun were indeed the sun:
+    And all our woods are happy
+      With all their birds save one.
+
+    But spring is over, but summer is over,
+      But autumn is over, and winter stands
+    With his feet sunk deep in the clover
+      And cowslips cold in his hands.
+
+    His hoar grim head has a hawthorn bonnet,
+      His gnarled gaunt hand has a gay green staff
+    With new-blown rose-blossom on it:
+      But his laugh is a dead man's laugh.
+
+    The laugh of spring that the heart seeks after,
+      The hand that the whole world yearns to kiss,
+    It rings not here in his laughter,
+      The sign of it is not this.
+
+    There is not strength in it left to splinter
+      Tall oaks, nor frost in his breath to sting:
+    Yet it is but a breath as of winter,
+      And it is not the hand of spring.
+
+
+    V
+
+    Thirty-one pale maidens, clad
+      All in mourning dresses,
+    Pass, with lips and eyes more sad
+    That it seems they should be glad,
+    Heads discrowned of crowns they had,
+      Grey for golden tresses.
+
+    Grey their girdles too for green,
+      And their veils dishevelled:
+    None would say, to see their mien,
+    That the least of these had been
+    Born no baser than a queen,
+      Reared where flower-fays revelled.
+
+    Dreams that strive to seem awake,
+      Ghosts that walk by daytime,
+    Weary winds the way they take,
+    Since, for one child's absent sake,
+    May knows well, whate'er things make
+      Sport, it is not Maytime.
+
+
+    VI
+
+    A hand at the door taps light
+    As the hand of my heart's delight:
+      It is but a full-grown hand,
+    Yet the stroke of it seems to start
+    Hope like a bird in my heart,
+      Too feeble to soar or to stand.
+
+    To start light hope from her cover
+    Is to raise but a kite for a plover
+      If her wings be not fledged to soar.
+    Desire, but in dreams, cannot ope
+    The door that was shut upon hope
+      When love went out at the door.
+
+    Well were it if vision could keep
+    The lids of desire as in sleep
+      Fast locked, and over his eyes
+    A dream with the dark soft key
+    In her hand might hover, and be
+      Their keeper till morning rise;
+
+    The morning that brings after many
+    Days fled with no light upon any
+      The small face back which is gone;
+    When the loved little hands once more
+    Shall struggle and strain at the door
+      They beat their summons upon.
+
+
+    VII
+
+    If a soul for but seven days were cast out of heaven and its mirth,
+    They would seem to her fears like as seventy years upon earth.
+
+    Even and morrow should seem to her sorrow as long
+    As the passage of numberless ages in slumberless song.
+
+    Dawn, roused by the lark, would be surely as dark in her sight
+    As her measureless measure of shadowless pleasure was bright.
+
+    Noon, gilt but with glory of gold, would be hoary and grey
+    In her eyes that had gazed on the depths, unamazed with the day.
+
+    Night hardly would seem to make darker her dream never done,
+    When it could but withhold what a man may behold of the sun.
+
+    For dreams would perplex, were the days that should vex her but seven,
+    The sight of her vision, made dark with division from heaven.
+
+    Till the light on my lonely way lighten that only now gleams,
+    I too am divided from heaven and derided of dreams.
+
+
+    VIII
+
+    A twilight fire-fly may suggest
+      How flames the fire that feeds the sun:
+    "A crooked figure may attest
+      In little space a million."
+
+    But this faint-figured verse, that dresses
+      With flowers the bones of one bare month,
+    Of all it would say scarce expresses
+      In crooked ways a millionth.
+
+    A fire-fly tenders to the father
+      Of fires a tribute something worth:
+    My verse, a shard-borne beetle rather,
+      Drones over scarce-illumined earth.
+
+    Some inches round me though it brighten
+      With light of music-making thought,
+    The dark indeed it may not lighten,
+      The silence moves not, hearing nought.
+
+    Only my heart is eased with hearing,
+      Only mine eyes are soothed with seeing,
+    A face brought nigh, a footfall nearing,
+      Till hopes take form and dreams have being.
+
+
+    IX
+
+    As a poor man hungering stands with insatiate eyes and hands
+                  Void of bread
+    Right in sight of men that feast while his famine with no least
+                  Crumb is fed,
+
+    Here across the garden-wall can I hear strange children call,
+                  Watch them play,
+    From the windowed seat above, whence the goodlier child I love
+                  Is away.
+
+    Here the sights we saw together moved his fancy like a feather
+                  To and fro,
+    Now to wonder, and thereafter to the sunny storm of laughter
+                  Loud and low--
+
+    Sights engraven on storied pages where man's tale of seven
+        swift ages
+                  All was told--
+    Seen of eyes yet bright from heaven--for the lips that laughed
+        were seven
+                  Sweet years old.
+
+
+    X
+
+    Why should May remember
+      March, if March forget
+    The days that began with December
+      The nights that a frost could fret?
+
+    All their griefs are done with
+      Now the bright months bless
+    Fit souls to rejoice in the sun with,
+      Fit heads for the wind's caress;
+
+    Souls of children quickening
+      With the whole world's mirth,
+    Heads closelier than field-flowers thickening
+      That crowd and illuminate earth,
+
+    Now that May's call musters
+      Files of baby bands
+    To marshal in joyfuller clusters
+      Than the flowers that encumber their hands.
+
+    Yet morose November
+      Found them no less gay,
+    With nought to forget or remember
+      Less bright than a branch of may.
+
+    All the seasons moving
+      Move their minds alike
+    Applauding, acclaiming, approving
+      All hours of the year that strike.
+
+    So my heart may fret not,
+      Wondering if my friend
+    Remember me not or forget not
+      Or ever the month find end.
+
+    Not that love sows lighter
+      Seed in children sown,
+    But that life being lit in them brighter
+      Moves fleeter than even our own.
+
+    May nor yet September
+      Binds their hearts, that yet
+    Remember, forget, and remember,
+      Forget, and recall, and forget.
+
+
+    XI
+
+    As light on a lake's face moving
+      Between a cloud and a cloud
+    Till night reclaim it, reproving
+      The heart that exults too loud,
+
+    The heart that watching rejoices
+      When soft it swims into sight
+    Applauded of all the voices
+      And stars of the windy night,
+
+    So brief and unsure, but sweeter
+      Than ever a moondawn smiled,
+    Moves, measured of no tune's metre,
+      The song in the soul of a child;
+
+    The song that the sweet soul singing
+      Half listens, and hardly hears,
+    Though sweeter than joy-bells ringing
+      And brighter than joy's own tears;
+
+    The song that remembrance of pleasure
+      Begins, and forgetfulness ends
+    With a soft swift change in the measure
+      That rings in remembrance of friends
+
+    As the moon on the lake's face flashes,
+      So haply may gleam at whiles
+    A dream through the dear deep lashes
+      Whereunder a child's eye smiles,
+
+    And the least of us all that love him
+      May take for a moment part
+    With angels around and above him,
+      And I find place in his heart.
+
+
+    XII
+
+    Child, were you kinless and lonely--
+      Dear, were you kin to me--
+    My love were compassionate only
+      Or such as it needs would be.
+
+    But eyes of father and mother
+      Like sunlight shed on you shine:
+    What need you have heed of another
+      Such new strange love as is mine?
+
+    It is not meet if unruly
+      Hands take of the children's bread
+    And cast it to dogs; but truly
+      The dogs after all would be fed.
+
+    On crumbs from the children's table
+      That crumble, dropped from above,
+    My heart feeds, fed with unstable
+      Loose waifs of a child's light love.
+
+    Though love in your heart were brittle
+      As glass that breaks with a touch,
+    You haply would lend him a little
+      Who surely would give you much.
+
+
+    XIII
+
+    Here is a rough
+      Rude sketch of my friend,
+    Faint-coloured enough
+      And unworthily penned.
+
+    Fearlessly fair
+      And triumphant he stands,
+    And holds unaware
+      Friends' hearts in his hands;
+
+    Stalwart and straight
+      As an oak that should bring
+    Forth gallant and great
+      Fresh roses in spring.
+
+    On the paths of his pleasure
+      All graces that wait
+    What metre shall measure
+      What rhyme shall relate
+
+    Each action, each motion,
+      Each feature, each limb,
+    Demands a devotion
+      In honour of him:
+
+    Head that the hand
+      Of a god might have blest,
+    Laid lustrous and bland
+      On the curve of its crest:
+
+    Mouth sweeter than cherries,
+      Keen eyes as of Mars,
+    Browner than berries
+      And brighter than stars.
+
+    Nor colour nor wordy
+      Weak song can declare
+    The stature how sturdy,
+      How stalwart his air.
+
+    As a king in his bright
+      Presence-chamber may be,
+    So seems he in height--
+      Twice higher than your knee.
+
+    As a warrior sedate
+      With reserve of his power,
+    So seems he in state--
+      As tall as a flower:
+
+    As a rose overtowering
+      The ranks of the rest
+    That beneath it lie cowering,
+      Less bright than their best.
+
+    And his hands are as sunny
+      As ruddy ripe corn
+    Or the browner-hued honey
+      From heather-bells borne.
+
+    When summer sits proudest,
+      Fulfilled with its mirth,
+    And rapture is loudest
+      In air and on earth,
+
+    The suns of all hours
+      That have ripened the roots
+    Bring forth not such flowers
+      And beget not such fruits.
+
+    And well though I know it,
+      As fain would I write,
+    Child, never a poet
+      Could praise you aright.
+
+    I bless you? the blessing
+      Were less than a jest
+    Too poor for expressing;
+      I come to be blest,
+
+    With humble and dutiful
+      Heart, from above:
+    Bless me, O my beautiful
+      Innocent love!
+
+    This rhyme in your praise
+      With a smile was begun;
+    But the goal of his ways
+      Is uncovered to none,
+
+    Nor pervious till after
+      The limit impend;
+    It is not in laughter
+      These rhymes of you end.
+
+
+    XIV
+
+    Spring, and fall, and summer, and winter,
+      Which may Earth love least of them all,
+    Whose arms embrace as their signs imprint her,
+      Summer, or winter, or spring, or fall?
+
+    The clear-eyed spring with the wood-birds mating,
+      The rose-red summer with eyes aglow,
+    The yellow fall with serene eyes waiting,
+      The wild-eyed winter with hair all snow?
+
+    Spring's eyes are soft, but if frosts benumb her
+      As winter's own will her shrewd breath sting:
+    Storms may rend the raiment of summer,
+      And fall grow bitter as harsh-lipped spring.
+
+    One sign for summer and winter guides me,
+      One for spring, and the like for fall:
+    Whichever from sight of my friend divides me,
+      That is the worst ill season of all.
+
+
+    XV
+
+    Worse than winter is spring
+    If I come not to sight of my king:
+    But then what a spring will it be
+    When my king takes homage of me!
+
+    I send his grace from afar
+    Homage, as though to a star;
+    As a shepherd whose flock takes flight
+    May worship a star by night.
+
+    As a flock that a wolf is upon
+    My songs take flight and are gone:
+    No heart is in any to sing
+    Aught but the praise of my king.
+
+    Fain would I once and again
+    Sing deeds and passions of men:
+    But ever a child's head gleams
+    Between my work and my dreams.
+
+    Between my hand and my eyes
+    The lines of a small face rise,
+    And the lines I trace and retrace
+    Are none but those of the face.
+
+
+    XVI
+
+    Till the tale of all this flock of days alike
+          All be done,
+    Weary days of waiting till the month's hand strike
+          Thirty-one,
+    Till the clock's hand of the month break off, and end
+          With the clock,
+    Till the last and whitest sheep at last be penned
+          Of the flock,
+    I their shepherd keep the count of night and day
+          With my song,
+    Though my song be, like this month which once was May,
+          All too long.
+
+
+    XVII
+
+    The incarnate sun, a tall strong youth,
+      On old Greek eyes in sculpture smiled:
+    But trulier had it given the truth
+      To shape him like a child.
+
+    No face full-grown of all our dearest
+      So lightens all our darkness, none
+    Most loved of all our hearts hold nearest
+      To far outshines the sun,
+
+    As when with sly shy smiles that feign
+      Doubt if the hour be clear, the time
+    Fit to break off my work again
+      Or sport of prose or rhyme,
+
+    My friend peers in on me with merry
+      Wise face, and though the sky stay dim
+    The very light of day, the very
+      Sun's self comes in with him.
+
+
+    XVIII
+
+    Out of sight,
+      Out of mind!
+    Could the light
+      Prove unkind?
+
+    Can the sun
+      Quite forget
+    What was done
+      Ere he set?
+
+    Does the moon
+      When she wanes
+    Leave no tune
+      That remains
+
+    In the void
+      Shell of night
+    Overcloyed
+      With her light?
+
+    Must the shore
+      At low tide
+    Feel no more
+      Hope or pride,
+
+    No intense
+      Joy to be,
+    In the sense
+      Of the sea--
+
+    In the pulses
+      Of her shocks
+    It repulses,
+      When its rocks
+
+    Thrill and ring
+      As with glee?
+    Has my king
+      Cast off me,
+
+    Whom no bird
+      Flying south
+    Brings one word
+      From his mouth?
+
+    Not the ghost
+      Of a word.
+    Riding post
+      Have I heard,
+
+    Since the day
+      When my king
+    Took away
+      With him spring,
+
+    And the cup
+      Of each flower
+    Shrivelled up
+      That same hour,
+
+    With no light
+      Left behind.
+    Out of sight,
+      Out of mind!
+
+
+    XIX
+
+    Because I adore you
+      And fall
+    On the knees of my spirit before you--
+      After all,
+
+    You need not insult,
+      My king,
+    With neglect, though your spirit exult
+      In the spring,
+
+    Even me, though not worth,
+      God knows,
+    One word of you sent me in mirth,
+      Or one rose
+
+    Out of all in your garden
+      That grow
+    Where the frost and the wind never harden
+      Flakes of snow,
+
+    Nor ever is rain
+      At all,
+    But the roses rejoice to remain
+      Fair and tall--
+
+    The roses of love,
+      More sweet
+    Than blossoms that rain from above
+      Round our feet,
+
+    When under high bowers
+      We pass,
+    Where the west wind freckles with flowers
+      All the grass.
+
+    But a child's thoughts bear
+      More bright
+    Sweet visions by day, and more fair
+      Dreams by night,
+
+    Than summer's whole treasure
+      Can be:
+    What am I that his thought should take pleasure,
+      Then, in me?
+
+    I am only my love's
+      True lover,
+    With a nestful of songs, like doves
+      Under cover,
+
+    That I bring in my cap
+      Fresh caught,
+    To be laid on my small king's lap--
+      Worth just nought.
+
+    Yet it haply may hap
+      That he,
+    When the mirth in his veins is as sap
+      In a tree,
+
+    Will remember me too
+      Some day
+    Ere the transit be thoroughly through
+      Of this May--
+
+    Or perchance, if such grace
+      May be,
+    Some night when I dream of his face.
+      Dream of me.
+
+    Or if this be too high
+      A hope
+    For me to prefigure in my
+      Horoscope,
+
+    He may dream of the place
+      Where we
+    Basked once in the light of his face,
+      Who now see
+
+    Nought brighter, not one
+      Thing bright,
+    Than the stars and the moon and the sun,
+      Day nor night.
+
+
+    XX
+
+        Day by darkling day,
+        Overpassing, bears away
+    Somewhat of the burden of this weary May.
+
+        Night by numbered night,
+        Waning, brings more near in sight
+    Hope that grows to vision of my heart's delight.
+
+        Nearer seems to burn
+        In the dawn's rekindling urn
+    Flame of fragrant incense, hailing his return.
+
+        Louder seems each bird
+        In the brightening branches heard
+    Still to speak some ever more delightful word.
+
+        All the mists that swim
+        Round the dawns that grow less dim
+    Still wax brighter and more bright with hope of him.
+
+        All the suns that rise
+        Bring that day more near our eyes
+    When the sight of him shall clear our clouded skies.
+
+        All the winds that roam
+        Fruitful fields or fruitless foam
+    Blow the bright hour near that brings his bright face home.
+
+
+    XXI
+
+    I hear of two far hence
+      In a garden met,
+    And the fragrance blown from thence
+      Fades not yet.
+
+    The one is seven years old,
+      And my friend is he:
+    But the years of the other have told
+      Eighty-three.
+
+    To hear these twain converse
+      Or to see them greet
+    Were sweeter than softest verse
+      May be sweet.
+
+    The hoar old gardener there
+      With an eye more mild
+    Perchance than his mild white hair
+      Meets the child.
+
+    I had rather hear the words
+      That the twain exchange
+    Than the songs of all the birds
+      There that range,
+
+    Call, chirp, and twitter there
+      Through the garden-beds
+    Where the sun alike sees fair
+      Those two heads,
+
+    And which may holier be
+      Held in heaven of those
+    Or more worth heart's thanks to see
+      No man knows.
+
+
+    XXII
+
+    Of such is the kingdom of heaven,
+      No glory that ever was shed
+    From the crowning star of the seven
+      That crown the north world's head,
+
+    No word that ever was spoken
+      Of human or godlike tongue,
+    Gave ever such godlike token
+      Since human harps were strung.
+
+    No sign that ever was given
+      To faithful or faithless eyes
+    Showed ever beyond clouds riven
+      So clear a Paradise.
+
+    Earth's creeds may be seventy times seven
+      And blood have defiled each creed:
+    If of such be the kingdom of heaven,
+      It must be heaven indeed.
+
+
+    XXIII
+
+    The wind on the downs is bright
+      As though from the sea:
+    And morning and night
+      Take comfort again with me.
+
+    He is nearer to-day,
+      Each night to each morning saith,
+    Whose return shall revive dead May
+      With the balm of his breath.
+
+    The sunset says to the moon,
+      He is nearer to-night
+    Whose coming in June
+      Is looked for more than the light.
+
+    Bird answers to bird,
+      Hour passes the sign on to hour,
+    And for joy of the bright news heard
+      Flower murmurs to flower.
+
+    The ways that were glad of his feet
+      In the woods that he knew
+    Grow softer to meet
+      The sense of his footfall anew.
+
+    He is near now as day,
+      Says hope to the new-born light:
+    He is near now as June is to May,
+      Says love to the night.
+
+
+    XXIV
+
+    Good things I keep to console me
+      For lack of the best of all,
+    A child to command and control me,
+      Bid come and remain at his call.
+
+    Sun, wind, and woodland and highland,
+      Give all that ever they gave:
+    But my world is a cultureless island,
+      My spirit a masterless slave.
+
+    And friends are about me, and better
+      At summons of no man stand:
+    But I pine for the touch of a fetter,
+      The curb of a strong king's hand.
+
+    Each hour of the day in her season
+      Is mine to be served as I will:
+    And for no more exquisite reason
+      Are all served idly and ill.
+
+    By slavery my sense is corrupted,
+      My soul not fit to be free:
+    I would fain be controlled, interrupted,
+      Compelled as a thrall may be.
+
+    For fault of spur and of bridle
+      I tire of my stall to death:
+    My sail flaps joyless and idle
+      For want of a small child's breath.
+
+
+    XXV
+
+    Whiter and whiter
+      The dark lines grow,
+    And broader opens and brighter
+      The sense of the text below.
+
+    Nightfall and morrow
+      Bring nigher the boy
+    Whom wanting we want not sorrow,
+      Whom having we want no joy.
+
+    Clearer and clearer
+      The sweet sense grows
+    Of the word which hath summer for hearer,
+      The word on the lips of the rose.
+
+    Duskily dwindles
+      Each deathlike day,
+    Till June rearising rekindles
+      The depth of the darkness of May.
+
+
+    XXVI
+
+        "In his bright radiance and collateral light
+        Must I be comforted, not in his sphere."
+
+    Stars in heaven are many,
+      Suns in heaven but one:
+    Nor for man may any
+      Star supplant the sun.
+
+    Many a child as joyous
+      As our far-off king
+    Meets as though to annoy us
+      In the paths of spring.
+
+    Sure as spring gives warning,
+      All things dance in tune:
+    Sun on Easter morning,
+      Cloud and windy moon,
+
+    Stars between the tossing
+      Boughs of tuneful trees,
+    Sails of ships recrossing
+      Leagues of dancing seas;
+
+    Best, in all this playtime,
+      Best of all in tune,
+    Girls more glad than Maytime,
+      Boys more bright than June;
+
+    Mixed with all those dances,
+      Far through field and street
+    Sing their silent glances,
+      Ring their radiant feet.
+
+    Flowers wherewith May crowned us
+      Fall ere June be crowned:
+    Children blossom round us
+      All the whole year round.
+
+    Is the garland worthless
+      For one rose the less,
+    And the feast made mirthless?
+      Love, at least, says yes.
+
+    Strange it were, with many
+      Stars enkindling air,
+    Should but one find any
+      Welcome: strange it were,
+
+    Had one star alone won
+      Praise for light from far:
+    Nay, love needs his own one
+      Bright particular star.
+
+    Hope and recollection
+      Only lead him right
+    In its bright reflection
+      And collateral light.
+
+    Find as yet we may not
+      Comfort in its sphere:
+    Yet these days will weigh not
+      When it warms us here;
+
+    When full-orbed it rises,
+      Now divined afar:
+    None in all the skies is
+      Half so good a star;
+
+    None that seers importune
+      Till a sign be won:
+    Star of our good fortune,
+      Rise and reign, our sun!
+
+
+    XXVII
+
+    I pass by the small room now forlorn
+      Where once each night as I passed I knew
+    A child's bright sleep from even to morn
+      Made sweet the whole night through.
+
+    As a soundless shell, as a songless nest,
+      Seems now the room that was radiant then
+    And fragrant with his happier rest
+      Than that of slumbering men.
+
+    The day therein is less than the day,
+      The night is indeed night now therein:
+    Heavier the dark seems there to weigh,
+      And slower the dawns begin.
+
+    As a nest fulfilled with birds, as a shell
+      Fulfilled with breath of a god's own hymn,
+    Again shall be this bare blank cell,
+      Made sweet again with him.
+
+
+    XXVIII
+
+    Spring darkens before us,
+      A flame going down,
+    With chant from the chorus
+      Of days without crown--
+    Cloud, rain, and sonorous
+      Soft wind on the down.
+
+    She is wearier not of us
+      Than we of the dream
+    That spring was to love us
+      And joy was to gleam
+    Through the shadows above us
+      That shift as they stream.
+
+    Half dark and half hoary,
+      Float far on the loud
+    Mild wind, as a glory
+      Half pale and half proud
+    From the twilight of story,
+      Her tresses of cloud;
+
+    Like phantoms that glimmer
+      Of glories of old
+    With ever yet dimmer
+      Pale circlets of gold
+    As darkness grows grimmer
+      And memory more cold.
+
+    Like hope growing clearer
+      With wane of the moon,
+    Shines toward us the nearer
+      Gold frontlet of June,
+    And a face with it dearer
+      Than midsummer noon.
+
+
+    XXIX
+
+    You send me your love in a letter,
+      I send you my love in a song:
+    Ah child, your gift is the better,
+      Mine does you but wrong.
+
+    No fame, were the best less brittle,
+      No praise, were it wide as earth,
+    Is worth so much as a little
+      Child's love may be worth.
+
+    We see the children above us
+      As they might angels above:
+    Come back to us, child, if you love us,
+      And bring us your love.
+
+
+    XXX
+
+    No time for books or for letters:
+      What time should there be?
+    No room for tasks and their fetters:
+      Full room to be free.
+
+    The wind and the sun and the Maytime
+      Had never a guest
+    More worthy the most that his playtime
+      Could give of its best.
+
+    If rain should come on, peradventure,
+      (But sunshine forbid!)
+    Vain hope in us haply might venture
+      To dream as it did.
+
+    But never may come, of all comers
+      Least welcome, the rain,
+    To mix with his servant the summer's
+      Rose-garlanded train!
+
+    He would write, but his hours are as busy
+      As bees in the sun,
+    And the jubilant whirl of their dizzy
+      Dance never is done.
+
+    The message is more than a letter,
+      Let love understand,
+    And the thought of his joys even better
+      Than sight of his hand.
+
+
+    XXXI
+
+          Wind, high-souled, full-hearted
+            South-west wind of the spring!
+          Ere April and earth had parted,
+            Skies, bright with thy forward wing,
+    Grew dark in an hour with the shadow behind it, that bade not a
+        bird dare sing.
+
+          Wind whose feet are sunny,
+            Wind whose wings are cloud,
+          With lips more sweet than honey
+            Still, speak they low or loud,
+    Rejoice now again in the strength of thine heart: let the depth of
+        thy soul wax proud.
+
+          We hear thee singing or sighing,
+            Just not given to sight,
+          All but visibly flying
+            Between the clouds and the light,
+    And the light in our hearts is enkindled, the shadow therein of the
+        clouds put to flight.
+
+          From the gift of thine hands we gather
+            The core of the flowers therein,
+          Keen glad heart of heather,
+            Hot sweet heart of whin,
+    Twin breaths in thy godlike breath close blended of wild spring's
+        wildest of kin.
+
+          All but visibly beating
+            We feel thy wings in the far
+          Clear waste, and the plumes of them fleeting,
+            Soft as swan's plumes are,
+    And strong as a wild swan's pinions, and swift as the flash of the
+        flight of a star.
+
+          As the flight of a planet enkindled
+            Seems thy far soft flight
+          Now May's reign has dwindled
+            And the crescent of June takes light
+    And the presence of summer is here, and the hope of a welcomer
+        presence in sight.
+
+          Wind, sweet-souled, great-hearted
+            Southwest wind on the wold!
+          From us is a glory departed
+            That now shall return as of old,
+    Borne back on thy wings as an eagle's expanding, and crowned with
+        the sundawn's gold.
+
+          There is not a flower but rejoices,
+            There is not a leaf but has heard:
+          All the fields find voices,
+            All the woods are stirred:
+    There is not a nest but is brighter because of the coming of one
+        bright bird.
+
+          Out of dawn and morning,
+            Noon and afternoon,
+          The sun to the world gives warning
+            Of news that brightens the moon;
+    And the stars all night exult with us, hearing of joy that shall
+        come with June.
+
+
+
+
+{Transcriber's note:
+
+    The line in number VII
+
+          To far outshines the sun,
+
+    appears thus in the original. It may be a misprint.}
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Dark Month, by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:53:31 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:53:31 -0700
commit	c9d264260426c593d829caafa5f469f4e649682d (patch)
tree	4e1ad4edd54d0b9ffc98ae19dcc2cfe2385686b6