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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34966-8.txt b/34966-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b64e8c --- /dev/null +++ b/34966-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1974 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eidola, by Frederic Manning + +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: Eidola + +Author: Frederic Manning + +Release Date: January 15, 2011 [EBook #34966] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIDOLA *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + EIDOLA + BY FREDERIC MANNING + + [Greek: skias eidôlon] + AESCHYLUS + + LONDON + JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. + 1917 + + + + + BY FREDERIC MANNING + + POEMS. 3_s._ 6_d._ net + SCENES AND PORTRAITS. 6_s._ net + THE VIGIL OF BRUNHILD. 2_s._ 6_d._ net + + LONDON: JOHN MURRAY + + + + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + + TO + THE COUNTESS OF ANCASTER + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + THE CHOOSERS 1 + SACRIFICE 3 + RELIEVED 5 + REACTION 6 + THE OLD CALVARY 9 + THE GUNS 10 + THE SIGN 12 + A SHELL 14 + THE FACE 15 + WIND 16 + BOIS DE MAMETZ 18 + THE TRENCHES 22 + LEAVES 25 + TRANSPORT 27 + [Greek: autarkeia] 29 + EPIGRAM, R. B. 31 + NOW 32 + GROTESQUE 35 + DESIRE 36 + BLUE AND GOLD 38 + GANHARDINE'S SONG 39 + THE SOUL'S ANSWER 41 + WINTER 42 + THE FAUN 43 + THE CUP 44 + PAROLES SANS MUSIQUE 45 + DANAE 47 + WORSHIP 49 + TO A GIRL 50 + EROS ATHANATOS 52 + DEMETER MOURNING 54 + THE LOST ANGEL 57 + THE MOCKING SONG 59 + THE MOTHER 63 + MEDITATION 65 + THE HONEY GATHERER 67 + CROCUS SONG 70 + THE IMAGE SELLER 72 + SIMAETHA 74 + TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS 76 + HURLEYWAYNE 78 + TO SÀÏ 80 + THE SHEPHERDS' CAROL OF BETHLEHEM 82 + PAST 85 + THE BELOVED 86 + + + + +EIDOLA + + + + +THE CHOOSERS + + + O ye! Fragile, tremulous + Haunters of the deep glades, + Whose fingers part the leaves + Of beech and aspen ere ye slip thro', + Shall I see ye again? + + Men have said unto me: + These are but flying lights and shadows, + Light on the beech-boles, clouds shadowing the corn-fields, + The wind in the flame of birches in autumn, + Wind shadowing the clear pools. + But ye cried, laughing, down the wind: + _Men are but shadows, but a vain breath!_ + + So here cometh unto me + That cry from the rejoicing air: + Men are but shadows! And prone about me + I see them, hushed and sleeping in the hut, + Made solemn and holy by the night, + In the dead light o' the moon: + Shadowy, swathed in their blankets, + As sleep, in hewn sepulchral caves, + Egypt's and Asia's kings. + While between them are the footsteps + Of glittering presences, who say: Lo, one + To be a sword upon my thigh! + And the sleepers stir restlessly and murmur + As between them pass + The bright-mailed choosers of the dead. + + Shall I see ye again, O flying feet + O' the forest-haunters, while I couch silent, + In a wet brake o' blossom, + Dark ivy wreathing your whiteness; + Ere I am torn from the scabbard: + (Lo, one + To be a sword upon my thigh!) + Knowing no longer that earth + Lieth in the dews, shining and sacred? + + + + +SACRIFICE + + + Love suffereth all things. + And we, + Out of the travail and pain of our striving, + Bring unto thee the perfect prayer: + For the heart of no man uttereth love, + Suffering even for love's sake. + + For us no splendid apparel of pageantry, + Burnished breast-plates, scarlet banners and trumpets + Sounding exultantly. + But the mean things of the earth hast thou chosen, + Decked them with suffering, + Made them beautiful with the passion for rightness, + Strong with the pride of love. + + Yea, tho' our praise of thee slayeth us, + Yet love shall exalt us beside thee triumphant, + Dying, that these live: + And the earth again be beautiful with orchards, + Yellow with wheatfields, + And the lips of others praise thee, tho' our lips + Be stopped with earth, and songless. + + But we shall have brought thee their praises, + Brought unto thee the perfect prayer: + For the lips of no man uttereth love, + Suffering even for love's sake. + + O God of sorrows, + Whose feet come softly thro' the dews, + Stoop thou unto us, + For we die so thou livest, + Our hearts the cups of thy vintage: + And the lips of no man uttereth love, + Suffering even for love's sake. + + + + +RELIEVED + +FOR S. J. KIMM + + + We are weary and silent, + There is only the rhythm of marching feet; + Tho' we move tranced, we keep it + As clock-work toys. + + But each man is alone in this multitude; + We know not the world in which we move, + Seeing not the dawn, earth pale and shadowy, + Level lands of tenuous grays and greens; + For our eye-balls have been seared with fire. + + Only we have our secret thoughts, + Our sense floats out from us, delicately apprehensive, + To the very fringes of our being, + Where light drowns. + + + + +REACTION + + + What make you here, Aphrodite, + Lady of the Golden Cymbals, + Would you dance to awaken earth again + As of old on Ida? + Here are no threshing-floors.... + + Men call you delicate, a lover of softness: + Making thine images of ivory, stained with sanguine; + Strewing frail petals of roses before you; + Bringing you soft stuffs of sea-dyes, + Vermilion and saffron sandals, + Floating wimples of filmy webs, that veil you, + As clear water the glittering limbs + Of a nymph beloved of Pan. + + But you come among us, + With sleepy eyelids, and a sleep-soft smile, + Ere we have scraped our boots of the mud + That is half human.... + You come, tho' we are killing the lice in our shirts, + To fill our eyes with the wine of your vision, + Tho' we are weary, and our hearts + Emptied of the old jests. + + _Satia te sanguine_ + You come among men; laughing + At the ramp of the strange beasts + Roaring our songs in estaminets, + With our hands hungry for life again. + You are come curious of our crude intoxications, + The savage pleasures and the gross lusts, + Being weary of the veiled lights, the whispers, + The languid colours, and rare spiced meats + That of old delighted you + In Paphos. + + You would couch with us in the golden straw + Of these great Gothic barns, + With curious curved beams arching, as in shadowy aisles; + While through the broken mud-wall + Light rays, + Like the golden dust + On Danae poured. + + And we turn from the harshness of swords, + Hungering for you.... + And know not that your breasts, + Carven delicately of ivory and gold, + The lips, red and subtile, + Are born of the bitter sea-foam and bright blood. + + + + +THE OLD CALVARY + +TO THE REV. D. L. PROSSER + + + It is propped in a corner of the yard, + Where vines wreathe it + With leaves and delicate tendrils; + A mutilated trunk, + Worn, and gray with weather stains; + Lichens cling to its flesh as a leprosy. + + But for a moment I stood in adoration, + Reverent, as the sun-rays + Struck between the glistening leaves; + Lighting the frail, lean form, + The shrunken flanks, + That knew more suffering than held + The agonies of Laocoon. + + For the memory of many prayers clung to it, + Tenderly, and glistening, + Even as the delicate vine + To the sacred flesh. + + + + +THE GUNS + + + Menace, hidden, but pulsing in the air of night: + Then a throbbing thunder, split and seared + With the scarlet flashes of innumerable shells, + And against it, suddenly, a shell, closer; + A purr that changes to a whine + Like a beast of prey that has missed its kill, + And again, closer. + + But even in the thunder of the guns + There is a silence: and the soul groweth still. + Yea, it is cloaked in stillness: + And it is not fear. + + But the torn and screaming air + Trembles under the onset of warring angels + With terrible and beautiful faces; + And the soul is stilled, knowing these awful shapes, + That burden the night with oppression, + To be but the creatures of its own lusts. + + + + +THE SIGN + + + We are here in a wood of little beeches: + And the leaves are like black lace + Against a sky of nacre. + + One bough of clear promise + Across the moon. + + It is in this wise that God speaketh unto me. + He layeth hands of healing upon my flesh, + Stilling it in an eternal peace. + Until my soul reaches out myriad and infinite hands + Toward him; + And is eased of its hunger. + + And I know that this passes: + This implacable fury and torment of men, + As a thing insensate and vain: + And the stillness hath said unto me, + Over the tumult of sounds and shaken flame, + Out of the terrible beauty of wrath, + _I alone am eternal._ + + One bough of clear promise + Across the moon. + + + + +A SHELL + + + Here we are all, naked as Greeks, + Killing the lice in our shirts: + Suddenly the air is torn asunder, + Ripped as coarse silk, + Then a dull thud.... + We are all squatting. + + + + +THE FACE + + + Out of the smoke of men's wrath, + The red mist of anger, + Suddenly, + As a wraith of sleep, + A boy's face, white and tense, + Convulsed with terror and hate, + The lips trembling.... + + Then a red smear, falling.... + I thrust aside the cloud, as it were tangible, + Blinded with a mist of blood. + The face cometh again + As a wraith of sleep: + A boy's face delicate and blonde, + The very mask of God, + Broken. + + + + +WIND + + + Blow, wind! Strip the great trees + That are like ebony against a sky of jade, + Ebony fretted and contorted. + Blow, hunt the piled clouds that lash the earth with rain; + Roar among the swayed branches; sing shrilly in the grass, + Burdening the pines with the music of pain; + For mine eyes desire the stars. + + Drown the senseless thunder of the guns, + Stream on the ways of air hurrying before thee + The yellow leaves, and the tawny, and scarlet, + Till my soul dance with them, + Dance delightedly as a child or a kitten + Catching at the gay leaves laughingly, + For I would forget, I would forget and laugh again. + + Sing, thou great wind; smite the harp of the wood, + For in thee the souls of slain men are singing exultant, + Now free of the air, feather-footed! Yea, they swim therein + Toward the green twilight, surging + Naked and beautiful with playing muscles, + Yea, even the naked souls of men + Whose beauty is a fierce thing, and slayeth us + Like the terrible majesty of the gods; + Blow, thou great wind, scatter the yellowing leaves. + + + + +BOIS DE MAMETZ + +FOR H. L. + + + Men have marred thee, O Mother: + Autumn hath now no tawny and gilded leaves; + Nor murmuring among sleepy boughs; + But stark and writhen as a woman ravished, + With twisted tortured limbs, + Are Mametz' woods. + + Hath not thy child, Persephone, tall men, + Yea, even all the children of the earth, + Bringing her tribute? + But the reapers sing not in thy wheatfields: + Tall sheaves wait ungarnered, + Though swallows are shrilling in the skies. + + We are reaped, who were thy reapers, and slain our songs; + We are torn as Iason, beloved of thee, Mother: + Heavy the clay upon our lips, + The gray rats fear us not, but pass quickly, sated, + Over prone trunks, rent limbs, dead faces, + That are ashen under the moon. + + Love, who begat us, shall Love slay us utterly? + Shall we not mingle with earth, as with sleep, + Dream into grasses, leafage, flowers, + Such being our very flesh; and shudder + In the glitter of thin shivering poplars, + That tremble like slim girls shaken + At a caress, + Bowed in a clear, keen wind? + + Lo, in us the glory of a new being, + A wonder, a terror, an exultation, + Even in the filth of our shambles, + Loosened as lightnings upon us, devouring us; + Till we be but a shaken wrath of flames, + A many-tongued music of thunder, + Beyond the thunder of guns. + And we fail beneath it, + Sink into our ashes, cower as dogs; + While the glory of many shaken flames + Drowns in the gray of thy dawns, + That reveal unto us + Earth wasted and riven with iron and fire. + Desolate! + + Thou hast turned from us.... + Even so thou art lovely, + As a woman grown old in sorrows, + With patient kindly eyes, + From whom hath passed the shadow of desire; + And her ears keep the whispers of many lovers, + As things heard in sleep. + But thou heed'st not our prayers, our strivings, + The moans of our anguish, + Our mute agonies; + Though thy loins bare us in travail, + Though thou art the bride of our desiring, + Yea, and the child of our desire, + In triple deity; + Knowing things past, and things to come, when both + Meet on the instant, rounding to a who + This intense keen edge of flame + Consuming our poor dust. + + Sit'st thou thus wisely silent, + With subtile and inviolate eyes, + Knowing us but the shadow of thy substance, + As transitory as the leaves? + + Wiselier even.... + Knowing us from the matter of our lives: + Not the sweet leaves the wind stirs, + But the wind, + Whose passage the leaves shadoweth. + + There are no leaves now in thy woods, Mametz. + + + + +THE TRENCHES + + + Endless lanes sunken in the clay, + Bays, and traverses, fringed with wasted herbage, + Seed-pods of blue scabious, and some lingering blooms; + And the sky, seen as from a well, + Brilliant with frosty stars. + We stumble, cursing, on the slippery duck-boards, + Goaded like the damned by some invisible wrath, + A will stronger than weariness, stronger than animal fear, + Implacable and monotonous. + + Here a shaft, slanting, and below + A dusty and flickering light from one feeble candle + And prone figures sleeping uneasily, + Murmuring, + And men who cannot sleep, + With faces impassive as masks, + Bright, feverish eyes, and drawn lips, + Sad, pitiless, terrible faces, + Each an incarnate curse. + + Here in a bay, a helmeted sentry + Silent and motionless, watching while two sleep, + And he sees before him + With indifferent eyes the blasted and torn land + Peopled with stiff prone forms, stupidly rigid, + As tho' they had not been men. + + Dead are the lips where love laughed or sang, + The hands of youth eager to lay hold of life, + Eyes that have laughed to eyes, + And these were begotten, + O love, and lived lightly, and burnt + With the lust of a man's first strength: ere they were rent, + Almost at unawares, savagely; and strewn + In bloody fragments, to be the carrion + Of rats and crows. + + And the sentry moves not, searching + Night for menace with weary eyes. + + + + +LEAVES + + + A frail and tenuous mist lingers on baffled and intricate branches; + Little gilt leaves are still, for quietness holds every bough; + Pools in the muddy road slumber, reflecting indifferent stars; + Steeped in the loveliness of moonlight is earth, and the valleys, + Brimmed up with quiet shadow, with a mist of sleep. + + But afar on the horizon rise great pulses of light, + The hammering of guns, wrestling, locked in conflict + Like brute, stone gods of old struggling confusedly; + Then overhead purrs a shell, and our heavies + Answer, with sudden clapping bruits of sound, + Loosening our shells that stream whining and whimpering precipitately, + Hounding through air athirst for blood. + + And the little gilt leaves + Flicker in falling, like waifs and flakes of flame. + + + + +TRANSPORT + + + The moon swims in milkiness, + The road glimmers curving down into the wooded valley + And with a clashing and creaking of tackle and axles + The train of limbers passes me, and the mules + Splash me with mud, thrusting me from the road into puddles, + Straining at the tackle with a bitter patience, + Passing me.... + And into a patch of moonlight, + With beautiful curved necks and manes, + Heads reined back, and nostrils dilated, + Impatient of restraint, + Pass two gray stallions, + Such as Oenetia bred; + Beautiful as the horses of Hippolytus + Carven on some antique frieze. + And my heart rejoices seeing their strength in play, + The mere animal life of them, + Lusting, + As a thing passionate and proud. + + Then again the limbers and grotesque mules. + + + + +[Greek: autarkeia] + + + I am alone: even ranked with multitudes: + And they alone, each man. + So are we free. + For some few friends of me, some earth of mine, + Some shrines, some dreams I dream, some hopes that emerge + From the rude stone of life vaguely, and tend + Toward form in me: the progeny of dreams + I father; even this England which is mine + Whereof no man has seen the loveliness + As with mine eyes: and even too, my God + Whom none have known as I: for these I fight, + For mine own self, that thus in giving self + Prodigally, as a mere breath in the air, + I may possess myself, and spend me so + Mingling with earth, and dreams, and God: and being + In them the master of all these in me, + Perfected thus. + Fight for your own dreams, you. + + + + +EPIGRAM, R. B. + + + Earth held thee not, whom now the gray seas hold, + By the blue Cyclades, and even the sea + Palls but the mortal, for men's hearts enfold, + Inviolate, the untamed youth of thee. + + + + +NOW + + + I praise ye for the noble and prodigal virtues, + That are spendthrift of all, + Giving and taking with a light hand; + For this moment only is ours: + + Of old ye were provident, and frugal, + With the parsimony of peace. + Now ye will jeopard your lives for a song, + For a mere breath, the shadow of a desire; + Cloaking your valour with a jest, + Veiling its holiness, + Lest wisdom deem ye fools; + The vain wisdom of peace. + + The old and hoary craft, + That seeth not the brightness of the sun, + That hideth in the earths of foxes, + That weigheth love, and delight, and laughter, + Against minted gold. + The wise ... + These but traffic in our gems, + They are but the merchants of our pleasure + Miserly! + + Who shall hoard up life + As it were but a heap of golden discs? + For it hath the lightest of light feet, + This quarry of our chase: + As it were Proteus, + Flowing from shape to shape under our hands.... + Who shall spread a net to entoil it + Or snare it as a bird? + + Ye play with life as with a gamester, + Full of doubles and shifts, + And ye laugh at each turn of the game, + Your hearts hawking at a chance + With a keen-edged zest. + Ye know not what ye seek, + Having it always. + + Ye have stolen of my riches; + But ye have given me of your dearth + The last fragment of your broken bread + And gone hungry yourselves: + Despising the matter of our lives, + The faults and incompleteness + Of the crude earth, + From which we are moulding, + With cunning and nimble fingers, + Images of desire. + + Let us laugh and understand each other, + For how could I blame you, my friends, + When ye are so generous + With the fruit of your thefts? + + Yea, this moment is sufficient: + And being artists, after our diverse manners, + When each white dawn cometh + Build we the earth anew: + Repenting not + Yesterdays now drowned in dark, nor desiring + The hastening to-morrows. + + + + +GROTESQUE + + + These are the damned circles Dante trod, + Terrible in hopelessness, + But even skulls have their humour, + An eyeless and sardonic mockery: + And we, + Sitting with streaming eyes in the acrid smoke, + That murks our foul, damp billet, + Chant bitterly, with raucous voices + As a choir of frogs + In hideous irony, our patriotic songs. + + + + +DESIRE + + + I would sing thy face + Sitting here in the firelight; + Mid the senseless noise of guns + Comes it as a flower between the flames. + + Sea-blue thine eyes, and bright as hawk's are, + Yet frail thy face as an image in clear water + As a pearl lying there, hidden or plain, when light + Wavers upon it: mobile as thy moods are + Or faint as a star in the mist's milk: + And frail thine hands, + Delicate, + Hovering in infinite slow gesture, nigh speech + Hesitating, poised, + Fragile: they would not mar + Gray bloom on a ripe plum. + + I would sing thy face + To forget this.... + But thy face sings to me from the slim flames + And my praise is silence, and my prayer. + + + + +BLUE AND GOLD + + + Blue and gold are April days, + All the wealth of spring unrolled + Down the wet, bird-haunted ways + Blue and gold. + In their rapture uncontrolled, + From the trees the blackbirds raise + Songs of triumph, clear and bold: + And the distance is blue haze, + Where the hills the fields enfold, + Like still seas in sheltered bays + Blue and gold. + + + + +GANHARDINE'S SONG + + + When my lady climbs the stair, + From the wet, surf-beaten sands, + Loosening her cloak of hair, + With her slender, foam-white hands, + All my soul cries out in me: + What fair things God maketh be! + + Praise her white, and red, and gold; + Praise her lips made sweet with mirth, + Her grave eyes, that dreaming hold + Tears, which tremble ere their birth! + Yet what song shall snare the feet + Of white dawn upon the wheat? + + Surely earth's swift-changing grace, + Starry waters, starry skies + Fallen in some flower-loved place, + Speak such peace as speak her eyes; + There earth's sudden wonders are + Glassed, as waters glass a star. + + When my lady climbs the stair, + Every wandering golden tress + Streams out, through the living air, + Like a flame for loveliness, + And my soul cries out in me: + What fair things God maketh be. + + + + +THE SOUL'S ANSWER + + + My soul said unto me: Yea, God is wise + With wisdom far too bright for our weak eyes. + I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is wise! + + My soul said unto me: Yea, God is good + And maketh love to be our daily food. + I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is good! + + I sent my soul from me that it might tell + The damned and make a Heaven where was Hell, + It smiled and said: Nay, fear not, all is well! + + + + +WINTER + +TO U. A. T. + + + Bare are the boughs where Love took cover, + Once in the spring: + Nor bird to bird, nor lover to lover, + Whisper or sing. + + A low moon floodeth the level meadows + With frosty light: + Sheep come softly through mist as shadows, + Grey in the night. + + And over pasture and plough and fallow + My dreams go, + For thy mouth to kiss and thine hands to hallow, + Thine heart to know. + + + + +THE FAUN + + + Kore, O Kore, where art thou fled, + Now that the spring blows white in the land? + Shake out the honeyed locks o' thine head; + Plunder the lilies that lie to thine hand, + Glistering saffron loved of the bees + Murmuring in them, till shadows grow long + With dew-dropping silence under the trees, + Ere break the voluptuous thrillings of song + From the brown-throated sweet harbourers there + Raptured and grieving under the stars.... + + + + +THE CUP + + + Ye mock me, wantons, that I come among you + Drunken, bedecked with garlands + Like a white sacrificial bull. + Laugh then! + So Cypris laughing shakes one petal down + From her rose-braided hair, + Honeyed with kisses, to perfume + The glowing purple that brims up this gold. + Laugh then, and mock, but kiss me! For what man + Would come among you sober? Wise, I come + Borne on Silenus' ass to praise Eros. + + + + +PAROLES SANS MUSIQUE + +FOR JELLY D'ARÀNYI + + + Ah, the night! The eyes! + You are white beneath the plum-blossoms, + As an oread beneath the shadow + Of flowering branches: immobile, + Among things fugitive and frail. + For God hath filled you with the memory + Of things forgotten by man; and your eyelids + Close upon lost splendours. + Yea! They are heavy with the secrets of time; + Troubled by the strangeness of beauty. + But mine heart knoweth the secret + Of your subtile lips and eyes: the silence + Wherein throng presently, with maddening cymbals, + With bright-tressed torches, the maenads, + Their cool flesh wreathed with dark vines. + + Ah, the night! The eyes! + Honey pale are you, pallid as ivory: + An amber grape, whose sweetness will be wine + On some king's lip! + Here 'mid these golds and purples, + These dusked magnificences, + Amid strange faces + Only your face against the plum-blossom + Know I: remembering + Bright spear heads in the moonlight + By the still tents, the red embers, + The strings and flutes of pain.... + And again the weariness of desiring. + + Ah, the night! The eyes! + + + + +DANAE + + + Thou, whom the gray seas bare more fierce than they. + O bitter Love! Have pity on his weeping, + Smite me with pain; lo, I am all thy prey! + Sleep thou, my son, as all the world is sleeping; + Sleep thou, my babe; and sleep, thou bitter sea; + And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me. + + Ashen thy fruit, O Love, thy crown is pain! + Sweet were thy words to me, thy soft caresses. + Child of my heart, O gain beyond all gain. + Sleep, while I shelter thee with arms and tresses! + Sleep thou, my babe, and sleep, thou bitter sea; + And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me. + + Yea, I am thine, O Love. I am thy spoil! + Sleep thou, my son, sleep softly till the morrow! + Love, thou hast snared me in thy golden toil, + Still the loud seas though thou still not my sorrow! + Sleep thou, my babe; and sleep, thou bitter sea; + And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me. + + + + +WORSHIP + + + Earth, sea, and skies, + For me are in thine eyes, + Yea, thou for me + Holdest within thyself eternity. + + As the dew's sphere + Encloses all the clear + Fires hung in the night, + The thin moon and the shaken seas delight. + + And there the rose + Where seraphs throne them, glows + Quiring God's name, + With music that is sound of joy made flame. + + God's very grace + Is perfect in thy face, + Mirrored such wise + That I mine own soul there imparadise. + + + + +TO A GIRL + +(MISS E. F.) + + + Thy face, which love renews ever with loveliness, + Is known and strange as earth, from night each dawn is new: + Stirred with such restless beauty + As water that wind shadoweth. + + How may love snare thy soul, or know the ways thereof? + Subtile as flame it is, and secret as the dews: + Even thus closely folded + Love hath thee not, but followeth. + + From change to change, nor surfeiteth his ecstasy + That from so brief a joy desireth new delight, + As tho' the sweet life in thee + Were fugitive and bodiless. + + Nay, love, in thee all change immortal is; nor dies, + Being the soul of thee that pastures on brief joy: + And this earth's shows mere seeming + In thy clear love's eternity. + + + + +EROS ATHANATOS + + + As a rose bends in rain + Your face is bowed into mine arms, + Spilling its golden drops there: + And the fragrance of wet roses + Is in my nostrils, + And the long bright tendrils of your hair + Upon me. + + Under my hand you tremble as a reed + When wind ruffles the water; + Such great joy floweth beneath my fingers, + And the rain passes, and the wind strews + The ripples with crimson petals + Bright as blood upon their polished silver. + + But my delight of you + Fragrant and humid in mine arms, + Of a white body convulsive, shaken + With the soul's passion; lips fierce, eager, + Passes not, but as a song, as a breath passes, + To hide it in a silence, a sleep, + Among cherishing dews, being music: + Nor the mere lute, nor the singer, + But the shaped passion of a god + Embodied in us, + Beyond us, eternal, exultant. + + + + +DEMETER MOURNING + + + I have seen her in sorrow, as one blind + With grief, across the furrows on soiled feet + Pass, as the cold gray dawn came with cold wind, + Gray as fine steel and keen with bitter sleet, + Beneath the white moon waning in the skies: + And I grew holy gazing in her eyes. + + Then her voice came: Ah! but thou wert too fair + To seek among the dim realms of the dead + Love: and what hands will tremble in thine hair + Or lips faint on thy lips? The clear stars shed + All night their dews on me: and the wind's breath + Pierced; and my heart grew hungry too for death. + + O flower! O clear pool mirroring the trees, + Whose sight was all my soul! O golden one, + Whose hair was like the corn, and rippling seas + Of new-sprung grasses where the light winds run! + O thou, whose breath was music, and whose mirth + Ran like bright water o'er the thirsting earth. + + Surely now where the frail, dim shadows dwell + Thou hast sown all the marvel of Earth's flowers + And lit with wonder all the ways of Hell + And winged the feet of their slow-footed hours, + While I sit lonely by the water-springs + On the bare earth where not one linnet sings! + + The dead leaves fluttered round her, and she sate + There by the well-side filmed with silver frost, + Like some old woman, stricken in her fate, + With no more heart to wail what she hath lost: + And silence grew about her, as though grief + Stilled the rude winds, and every withered leaf. + + + + +THE LOST ANGEL + + + Thy love is as clear rivers to a thirsty land, + Even as the rivers of earth bringing the wonder of boughs, + The rivers of thy love have filled up the channels of time. + Earth is a lure unto mine eyes. Lo! now I love + The fragile fleeting days, warm lips of women. + Delights that slip away as fish through water. + O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart. + + Soiled am I now with dust, and frustrate glories + Wane, and are tarnished on my darkened brows; + Yea, all my love is for the joys that perish. + How may mine eyes behold my naked soul + No more arrayed in wings of my desire? + The cold rains smite me, and the winds of sorrow + Have driven me down the bitter ways of time. + O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart. + + How shall I come again into my peace, + So heavy is the darkness on eyes and feet? + One sayeth: Lo, now, God's lost angel crowned + With broken hopes, and clothed with grief, and mute, + Sitting with his despair through the long starless night, + I, God's lost angel. Even thus I grow + Starry amid the solitudes, yea, crowned + With my despair, throned even in my fall, + O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart. + + + + +THE MOCKING SONG + + + Surely now in the spring-time shall I waken my singing + And song shall blossom out of my lips, + Glowing, as gloweth the golden crocus of Zeus. + + For the soft white flakes of the winter have covered me over + With a deep stillness not to be told, + And my heart hath gathered honey of many dreams. + + Now may they blossom as flames, tawny and eager, + Shaking out their bright hair on the wind. + The soft wind that streameth through the long green, rippling grasses. + + Yea, like a bee, my heart hath fed on the honey of flowers + And is made drunken, and full of strength, + Full of the blood-red wine that is fierce and exultant. + + But ye have turned your faces from song and from dreaming, + Ye stirred in the winter and wakened, + Your grain was garnered and threshed, yet a hunger filled you. + + But the breasts of Earth had filled me, mine eyes had garnered + Many-coloured may, and sweet, red apples, + Through every sense had I drunk up her strength, and was sated. + + What have ye, O wise ones? The corn ye reaped ye shall sow, + Ye shall watch for rains and tempests; + Only I hearing the hail on the roofs shall be gladdened. + + Ye, being mockers, said: What profiteth him his singing? + Ye stored not the sweetness in your hearts, + Ye are bent double with the burden of the past, fearful of Time. + + Ye go forth into the furrows, but who shall come to the reaping? + Lo, now the golden grain falleth to earth! + Though ye be rich in this wise, yet are ye desolate. + + I have gleaned in the hedgerows and wild glades of the forest, + And that sweetness sufficeth to me: + For sweet it is to feel the rain upon face and hair. + + Surely ye have this day: but the wise sweetness in my heart + Is the honey of all days which ye have not. + So shall my soul mock you, when dying, lo! ye are empty. + + Even so when I hungered ye gave me bread, + With hard words ye gave it me. + So give I this song unto you with hard words in mockery. + + + + +THE MOTHER + + + She hath such quiet eyes, + That feed on all earth's wonders! She will sit + Here in the orchard, and the bewildering beauty + Of blossoming boughs lulls her as day grows late + And level sunlight streameth through the tree-stems + Lying as pale gold on the green fallows, and gilding the fleeces + Of the slow-feeding sheep in the pastures. + While in her there stirs, + A dream, a delight, a wonder her being knew not, + Yet now remembers, wistfully, as a thing long lost, + Sunken in dim, green, lucid sea-caves; + And her desire goeth out from her, toward God, through the twilight, + Lost, too, in the waters of unfathomable silence. + + But the child, gazing upward, + Sees the glory of the apple-blossom suddenly scattered, + As a bird flies through the branches; + And he reaches toward the soft, white fluttering petals + That light upon his face, and laughs; and she + Stoops over him quickly with sudden, hot, passionate kisses, + Smiling for all her tears. + + + + +MEDITATION + + + Even tho' I descend into the darkness of deep valleys, + Yet have mine eyes beheld the light, + And my heart treasureth it. + + One, seeing thy face, loseth it not in dreams. + It shall abide with him through all the days; + And his heart treasureth it. + + Earth dieth in the darkness, but when dawn cometh + Slowly the trees and hills grow into the light.... + The heart of darkness cherisheth the dawn. + + Who shall forget thee having seen thy face? + I have dreamed in my sleep of thee, as a man dreameth of a maiden. + + Yea! the silence and darkness held thee as a dream. + Lo! I have seen thee. How shall I forget? + + Thy beauty is treasured up in my heart. + + + + +THE HONEY GATHERER + + + I would drink of the honeyed wine that is heavy with poppies + Until my trembling eyelids close, and only the murmur + Of Life I should know: as the murmur of seas to one sleeping. + Glide now the soft, slim feet + Of white dreams that are lovely and fugitive + To whom thy sorrow is alien, my beloved! + Sweetly their feet stir the young grasses, they lie coiled + In clear dark waters, or couched in the thickets, + Their whiteness dappled with shadow, + So might I forget again the sword of thy beauty + And the desire that looked out from thine eyes, until mine heart leapt + Forth to meet it, and was seared in the flame. + Life was as a net about me, and mine hands might not rend it, + But I lay in fear among the toils, and afar + Mine ears strained to catch the footsteps of the hunter. + + Honey and poppies! + Until desire is drowned within me, until sleep + Hath builded a world that is gateless, + A world of beautiful luminous waters + Through which the white dreams slip and swim, + Pearled with fine spray, their bright hair floating, + To whom love and desire and sorrow are foolishness + And thy beauty a shadow, that the wind breaketh. + And thy body but dust for the wind's pasture + And thy sorrow but a murmur of waters.... + There are they, the exultant, the swan-throated; + Through the night cometh the sound of their trumpets, + Until mine heart is drunken with their wine. + + Honey and poppies! + Until sleep is heavy upon me as a garment, + Until the winged joys come. + But even then, O my beloved! is desire and a grieving; + Even in the deep waters my soul remembereth + How it hath been troubled by thy hands. + + + + +CROCUS SONG + +FOR M. C. + + + The first flame, the first spear of the spring, + A thing perfected of the dews and fire, + Saffron in hoar-frost, brightened as with wine: + Thou blossoming in the heart of me! + Ah, golden + Is she whose love hath led me through the world + A thing of dews and fire, of wine and saffron! + Gray willows veiling my beloved + Bend above her, + As though you would love her, + Now clear water shadoweth her whiteness. + + Ere brown bees go abroad murmuring, + One saffron crocus hath made glad desire, + To follow on swift feet slim feet of thine; + Love wakening for joy of thee, + Beholden + As golden petals of one flower unfurled, + Brimmed up with dews and fire, with wine and saffron. + Clear waters shadowing her whiteness + Flow beside her, + As tho' you would hide her, + Jealous that mine eyes have my beloved. + + + + +THE IMAGE SELLER + + + I would bring them again unto you, + The gods with broad and placid brows; + And for you have I wrought their images + Of carven ivory and gold; + That your lips may be shaped to praise them, + And your praises be laughter and all delights of the body, + Dancing and exultation, a dance of torches + In scarlet sandals, with burnished targes: + A dance of boys by the wine-press + Naked, with must-stained purple thighs: + Of young girls by the river in saffron vesture + Dancing to smitten strings and reed flutes. + Praise then mine images: Helios; Artemis, + With a leash of straining hounds: and the Foam-born. + + Turning from love to sleep, drowsy and smiling, + With the fluttering of doves and dreams about her + And, softer than silk, Hephaistos' golden net. + Lo, Bacchus and his painted beasts! + Praise ye mine images! + A dryad whom clinging ivy holds while laughs + The swarthy centaur pursuing; and a troop + Of small Pans delicate and deformed. + Yet your lips praise not, + Crying: We too would be deathless as these are, + We, the hunted! But dance and adore them, + Praise my sweet grave gods of the blue, and the earth-born! + Praise their strong grace and swiftness! + For in these gods mine hands have wrought, + In these alone are ye deathless. + + + + +SIMAETHA + +FOR D. S. D. + + + Thou art wine, Simaetha! When mine eyes drink thee + My blood flames with the golden joy thou art, + Bewildering me, until thy loveliness + Is veiled in its own light: nor know I then + Pure brows, and placid lips and eyes, and hair + With wind and sunlight glorious: but all + Are mingled in one flame. O thou, in me, + Art shrined, as none hath seen thee, as gods live + Whom Time shall not consume; nor rusts thy gold + Ever, so hath my soul enclosed thee round + With its divine air. Yea, thy very life, + Which flows through all the guises of thy moods, + Escaping as they die, and laughs and weeps + And builds again its beauty, have I set + Beyond the jeopards of rough time: yea! all + Thine ivory, imperilled loveliness, + And winey sanguine where the cheek's curve takes + Light as a bloom upon it, not to pass + So there be God. + Thy praise hath made speech song + And song from lip to lip flies, and black ships + Bear it from sea to sea; and on some quay + Where rise tall masts, and gay booths flank the ways + A tumbler sings it; and an alien air + Trembles with thee, while strange men wonder, dumb + To see thee pass: thou being all my song. + + + + +TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS + + + Gross, sensual faces herded; and then you + With magical wide eyes came. Eyes that kept + The mirth of dews at dawn in them, and slept + To the tumult of the street. They held the blue, + Sweet, flowering spaces under pines; and knew + Cropped lawns, where naked dryads dancing leapt + To the clash of golden cymbals, while there crept + Furtively on white bellies through the dew, + To glut on grace, ambiguous fauns, whose eyes + Burned glittering with desire: until the horn + Of the moon turned ashen; and through the still trees + The lithe shapes feed: and dawn brimmed up the skies + With winey gold, and walked upon the corn; + And murmuring through the vines came gleaming bees. + + + + +HURLEYWAYNE + +FOR M. S. + + + Such cool peace as fills + Green solitudes with trembling light at eve, + Fresh after summer thunder: and thin leaves + Stir gleaming, and grow still; then the green light + Alone moves, pulsing in pooled air, that shakes + No more with sound. Quiet brims full; then break + As dropping rain hurrying elfin feet, + A silvery foam of sound blown as white spray, + Sparkling with great bright bubbles: no sound to sense, + Bright foam upon blue pools of quiet tossed: + And a sight of waven manes that gleam + Shaken in the twilight under luminous leaves; + And challenging fairy horns that invite to the chace + Gay, light o' heart. And the galloping host, + Winding their horns, rush by as wind in the grass, + Shimmering; and the horns from afar ring out, + Farther and farther away. + + + + +TO SÀÏ + + + You chase the blue butterflies, + The shining dew is shaken by your feet, + That are white in the young grasses; + Swift, you hesitate, poised; + And they elude you; fluttering + In the windless gold. + + Sàï is small, + But a little child, + With little sorrows; + Yet her tears shine with laughter, + Her face comes and goes between the wet leaves, + As a face in sleep + Comes and goes between green shadows, + As moving lights hide and shine in the marshes. + + I shall not look at her, + Lest she should hide from mine eyes + In the shadow. + I bring her pale honey in a comb, apples + Sweet and smelling; and leave them beside me; + Then comes she softly. + There is a bee in the willow-weed, + From flower to flower it climbs, and I watch it + Till the honey and apples are eaten. + Sàï is quite close to me; now she has gone + She has forgotten me. + + Sàï is small, + But a little child. + + + + + THE SHEPHERDS' CAROL OF + BETHLEHEM + + + A golden star hangs in the night, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + And all the fields are clad in white: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + What maketh Mary's face so pale? + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + It is the hour of her travail: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + She lies between an ass and beast, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + Three kings come riding from the east: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + They have ridden out of the lands afar: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + In ermine furs and cramasie, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + A duffle cloak will shelter me: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + The kings have stooped to Mary's hem, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + But her eyes travel away from them: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + What gifts have we to bring the Lord? + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + Neither a sceptre, nor a sword: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + We bring no gifts but milk and cheese: + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + And a fleece of wool for Mary's knees: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Nor myrrh, nor frankincense, nor gold: + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + But a fleece to shield Him from the cold: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Down miry ways, tho' storms be wild, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + A warm soft fleece for a naked child: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Now Mary turns her face to sleep: + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + While we go back to tend our sheep: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + The sparks fly from the crackling thorn, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + Our God was in a stable born: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Tho' three wise kings rode from the east, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + He was born between an ass and beast: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + I saw no trail of starry light, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + I heard a child wail in the night: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow! + + + + +PAST + + + We played in this garden, long ago, + Long ago! Wind stirs the young grasses; + Petals drift from the apple-boughs, + Like snow, that covers up everything, + Everything! + + + + +THE BELOVED + +(TO THE COUNTESS OF KINTORE) + + + Love, when they told me you were dead, I replied not; + I smiled, and they thought me mad. + They wept anointing thy body, they swathed thee in linen bands + and laid thee in the earth. + Their hands touched thee as a thing sacred, they mourned for thee + with shaken hearts. + It was dawn, my beloved, and they came in, into my room, where I lay + close to sleep smiling, and they told me you were dead. + I smiled hearing the swallows coming and going under the eaves, + and they told me you were dead. + The earth dreamed in dews, the sheep were in the pastures, + and they told me you were dead. + + O my beloved, these knew thee not. + + + + +Certain of these poems have appeared in _The Spectator_, _Poetry_, _The +Forum_, _The Quest_, and _The Windsor Magazine_. My thanks are due to +the Editors of these periodicals for permission to reprint them. + + + + + PRINTED BY + HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD., + LONDON AND AYLESBURY, + ENGLAND. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eidola, by Frederic Manning + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIDOLA *** + +***** This file should be named 34966-8.txt or 34966-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/6/34966/ + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Eidola + +Author: Frederic Manning + +Release Date: January 15, 2011 [EBook #34966] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIDOLA *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>EIDOLA</h1> + +<h2>BY FREDERIC MANNING</h2> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>σκιἁς εἱδωλου<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Aeschylus</span></span></p></div> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<h3>LONDON<br /> +JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.</h3> + +<h4>1917</h4> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox bbox"><h3>BY FREDERIC MANNING</h3> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="100%" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="BOOKSBYFREDERICMANNING"> + +<tr><td align="left">POEMS.</td> +<td align="right">3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">SCENES AND PORTRAITS.</td> +<td align="right">6<i>s.</i>net</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE VIGIL OF BRUNHILD.</td> +<td align="right">2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="tiny" /> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN MURRAY</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">All Rights Reserved</span></p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h4><a name="TO" id="TO"></a>TO</h4> + +<h3>THE COUNTESS OF ANCASTER</h3> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr><td align="left"> </td> +<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE CHOOSERS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">SACRIFICE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">RELIEVED</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">REACTION</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE OLD CALVARY</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE GUNS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE SIGN</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">A SHELL</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE FACE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">WIND</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">BOIS DE MAMETZ</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE TRENCHES</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">LEAVES</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">TRANSPORT</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><span style="font-size: 120%;">αὑτἁρκεια</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">EPIGRAM, R. B.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">NOW</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">GROTESQUE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">DESIRE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">BLUE AND GOLD</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">GANHARDINE’S SONG</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE SOUL’S ANSWER</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">WINTER</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE FAUN</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE CUP</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">PAROLES SANS MUSIQUE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">DANAE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">WORSHIP</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">TO A GIRL</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">EROS ATHANATOS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">DEMETER MOURNING</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE LOST ANGEL</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE MOCKING SONG</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE MOTHER</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">MEDITATION</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE HONEY GATHERER</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">CROCUS SONG</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE IMAGE SELLER</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">SIMAETHA</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">HURLEYWAYNE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">TO SÀÏ</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE SHEPHERDS’ CAROL OF BETHLEHEM</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">PAST</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">THE BELOVED</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h1><a name="EIDOLA" id="EIDOLA"></a>EIDOLA</h1> + +<h2><a name="THE_CHOOSERS" id="THE_CHOOSERS"></a>THE CHOOSERS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O ye! Fragile, tremulous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunters of the deep glades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fingers part the leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of beech and aspen ere ye slip thro’,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I see ye again?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men have said unto me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are but flying lights and shadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light on the beech-boles, clouds shadowing the corn-fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind in the flame of birches in autumn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wind shadowing the clear pools.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ye cried, laughing, down the wind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Men are but shadows, but a vain breath!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So here cometh unto me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cry from the rejoicing air:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span><span class="i0">Men are but shadows! And prone about me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see them, hushed and sleeping in the hut,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made solemn and holy by the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dead light o’ the moon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadowy, swathed in their blankets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sleep, in hewn sepulchral caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Egypt’s and Asia’s kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While between them are the footsteps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of glittering presences, who say: Lo, one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be a sword upon my thigh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sleepers stir restlessly and murmur<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As between them pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bright-mailed choosers of the dead.<br /></span></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I see ye again, O flying feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O’ the forest-haunters, while I couch silent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a wet brake o’ blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark ivy wreathing your whiteness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere I am torn from the scabbard:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Lo, one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be a sword upon my thigh!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knowing no longer that earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lieth in the dews, shining and sacred?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SACRIFICE" id="SACRIFICE"></a>SACRIFICE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love suffereth all things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the travail and pain of our striving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring unto thee the perfect prayer:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the heart of no man uttereth love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffering even for love’s sake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For us no splendid apparel of pageantry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burnished breast-plates, scarlet banners and trumpets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounding exultantly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the mean things of the earth hast thou chosen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decked them with suffering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made them beautiful with the passion for rightness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong with the pride of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yea, tho’ our praise of thee slayeth us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet love shall exalt us beside thee triumphant,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span><span class="i0">Dying, that these live:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the earth again be beautiful with orchards,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yellow with wheatfields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lips of others praise thee, tho’ our lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be stopped with earth, and songless.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But we shall have brought thee their praises,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought unto thee the perfect prayer:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the lips of no man uttereth love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffering even for love’s sake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O God of sorrows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose feet come softly thro’ the dews,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stoop thou unto us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we die so thou livest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts the cups of thy vintage:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lips of no man uttereth love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffering even for love’s sake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RELIEVED" id="RELIEVED"></a>RELIEVED</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">For S. J. Kimm</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We are weary and silent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is only the rhythm of marching feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho’ we move tranced, we keep it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As clock-work toys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But each man is alone in this multitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We know not the world in which we move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing not the dawn, earth pale and shadowy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Level lands of tenuous grays and greens;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For our eye-balls have been seared with fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only we have our secret thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our sense floats out from us, delicately apprehensive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the very fringes of our being,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where light drowns.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="REACTION" id="REACTION"></a>REACTION</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What make you here, Aphrodite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady of the Golden Cymbals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would you dance to awaken earth again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As of old on Ida?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here are no threshing-floors....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men call you delicate, a lover of softness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making thine images of ivory, stained with sanguine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strewing frail petals of roses before you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing you soft stuffs of sea-dyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vermilion and saffron sandals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floating wimples of filmy webs, that veil you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As clear water the glittering limbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a nymph beloved of Pan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But you come among us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sleepy eyelids, and a sleep-soft smile,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span><span class="i0">Ere we have scraped our boots of the mud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is half human....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You come, tho’ we are killing the lice in our shirts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fill our eyes with the wine of your vision,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho’ we are weary, and our hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emptied of the old jests.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Satia te sanguine</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">You come among men; laughing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the ramp of the strange beasts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roaring our songs in estaminets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With our hands hungry for life again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are come curious of our crude intoxications,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The savage pleasures and the gross lusts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being weary of the veiled lights, the whispers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The languid colours, and rare spiced meats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That of old delighted you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Paphos.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You would couch with us in the golden straw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these great Gothic barns,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><span class="i0">With curious curved beams arching, as in shadowy aisles;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While through the broken mud-wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the golden dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Danae poured.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And we turn from the harshness of swords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hungering for you....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know not that your breasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carven delicately of ivory and gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lips, red and subtile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are born of the bitter sea-foam and bright blood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_OLD_CALVARY" id="THE_OLD_CALVARY"></a>THE OLD CALVARY</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">To the Rev. D. L. Prosser</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is propped in a corner of the yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where vines wreathe it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With leaves and delicate tendrils;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mutilated trunk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worn, and gray with weather stains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lichens cling to its flesh as a leprosy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But for a moment I stood in adoration,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reverent, as the sun-rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struck between the glistening leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lighting the frail, lean form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shrunken flanks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That knew more suffering than held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The agonies of Laocoon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the memory of many prayers clung to it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tenderly, and glistening,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as the delicate vine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sacred flesh.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_GUNS" id="THE_GUNS"></a>THE GUNS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Menace, hidden, but pulsing in the air of night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then a throbbing thunder, split and seared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the scarlet flashes of innumerable shells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And against it, suddenly, a shell, closer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A purr that changes to a whine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a beast of prey that has missed its kill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And again, closer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But even in the thunder of the guns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a silence: and the soul groweth still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, it is cloaked in stillness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it is not fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the torn and screaming air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembles under the onset of warring angels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With terrible and beautiful faces;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span><span class="i0">And the soul is stilled, knowing these awful shapes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That burden the night with oppression,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be but the creatures of its own lusts.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_SIGN" id="THE_SIGN"></a>THE SIGN</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We are here in a wood of little beeches:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the leaves are like black lace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against a sky of nacre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One bough of clear promise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is in this wise that God speaketh unto me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He layeth hands of healing upon my flesh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stilling it in an eternal peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until my soul reaches out myriad and infinite hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is eased of its hunger.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I know that this passes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This implacable fury and torment of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a thing insensate and vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stillness hath said unto me,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span><span class="i0">Over the tumult of sounds and shaken flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the terrible beauty of wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I alone am eternal.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One bough of clear promise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the moon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_SHELL" id="A_SHELL"></a>A SHELL</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here we are all, naked as Greeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Killing the lice in our shirts:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly the air is torn asunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ripped as coarse silk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then a dull thud....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are all squatting.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_FACE" id="THE_FACE"></a>THE FACE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of the smoke of men’s wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The red mist of anger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a wraith of sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A boy’s face, white and tense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convulsed with terror and hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lips trembling....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then a red smear, falling....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thrust aside the cloud, as it were tangible,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blinded with a mist of blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The face cometh again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a wraith of sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A boy’s face delicate and blonde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very mask of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WIND" id="WIND"></a>WIND</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blow, wind! Strip the great trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That are like ebony against a sky of jade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ebony fretted and contorted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow, hunt the piled clouds that lash the earth with rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roar among the swayed branches; sing shrilly in the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burdening the pines with the music of pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mine eyes desire the stars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drown the senseless thunder of the guns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stream on the ways of air hurrying before thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yellow leaves, and the tawny, and scarlet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till my soul dance with them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dance delightedly as a child or a kitten<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Catching at the gay leaves laughingly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I would forget, I would forget and laugh again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span><span class="i0">Sing, thou great wind; smite the harp of the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in thee the souls of slain men are singing exultant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now free of the air, feather-footed! Yea, they swim therein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward the green twilight, surging<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked and beautiful with playing muscles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, even the naked souls of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose beauty is a fierce thing, and slayeth us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the terrible majesty of the gods;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow, thou great wind, scatter the yellowing leaves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BOIS_DE_MAMETZ" id="BOIS_DE_MAMETZ"></a>BOIS DE MAMETZ</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">For H. L.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men have marred thee, O Mother:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Autumn hath now no tawny and gilded leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor murmuring among sleepy boughs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But stark and writhen as a woman ravished,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With twisted tortured limbs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are Mametz’ woods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hath not thy child, Persephone, tall men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, even all the children of the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing her tribute?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the reapers sing not in thy wheatfields:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tall sheaves wait ungarnered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though swallows are shrilling in the skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span><span class="i0">We are reaped, who were thy reapers, and slain our songs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are torn as Iason, beloved of thee, Mother:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavy the clay upon our lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gray rats fear us not, but pass quickly, sated,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over prone trunks, rent limbs, dead faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That are ashen under the moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love, who begat us, shall Love slay us utterly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we not mingle with earth, as with sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream into grasses, leafage, flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such being our very flesh; and shudder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the glitter of thin shivering poplars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tremble like slim girls shaken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At a caress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed in a clear, keen wind?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo, in us the glory of a new being,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wonder, a terror, an exultation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even in the filth of our shambles,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span><span class="i0">Loosened as lightnings upon us, devouring us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till we be but a shaken wrath of flames,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A many-tongued music of thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the thunder of guns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we fail beneath it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sink into our ashes, cower as dogs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the glory of many shaken flames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drowns in the gray of thy dawns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That reveal unto us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth wasted and riven with iron and fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desolate!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast turned from us....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so thou art lovely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a woman grown old in sorrows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With patient kindly eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whom hath passed the shadow of desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her ears keep the whispers of many lovers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As things heard in sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou heed’st not our prayers, our strivings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moans of our anguish,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><span class="i0">Our mute agonies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thy loins bare us in travail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thou art the bride of our desiring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, and the child of our desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In triple deity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knowing things past, and things to come, when both<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet on the instant, rounding to a who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This intense keen edge of flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Consuming our poor dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sit’st thou thus wisely silent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With subtile and inviolate eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knowing us but the shadow of thy substance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As transitory as the leaves?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wiselier even....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knowing us from the matter of our lives:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the sweet leaves the wind stirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose passage the leaves shadoweth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are no leaves now in thy woods, Mametz.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_TRENCHES" id="THE_TRENCHES"></a>THE TRENCHES</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Endless lanes sunken in the clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bays, and traverses, fringed with wasted herbage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seed-pods of blue scabious, and some lingering blooms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sky, seen as from a well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brilliant with frosty stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We stumble, cursing, on the slippery duck-boards,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goaded like the damned by some invisible wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A will stronger than weariness, stronger than animal fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Implacable and monotonous.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here a shaft, slanting, and below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dusty and flickering light from one feeble candle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prone figures sleeping uneasily,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span><span class="i0">Murmuring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men who cannot sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With faces impassive as masks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright, feverish eyes, and drawn lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad, pitiless, terrible faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each an incarnate curse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here in a bay, a helmeted sentry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent and motionless, watching while two sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he sees before him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With indifferent eyes the blasted and torn land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peopled with stiff prone forms, stupidly rigid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As tho’ they had not been men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dead are the lips where love laughed or sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hands of youth eager to lay hold of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes that have laughed to eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these were begotten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O love, and lived lightly, and burnt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the lust of a man’s first strength: ere they were rent,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span><span class="i0">Almost at unawares, savagely; and strewn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bloody fragments, to be the carrion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rats and crows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the sentry moves not, searching<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night for menace with weary eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LEAVES" id="LEAVES"></a>LEAVES</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A frail and tenuous mist lingers on baffled and intricate branches;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little gilt leaves are still, for quietness holds every bough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pools in the muddy road slumber, reflecting indifferent stars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steeped in the loveliness of moonlight is earth, and the valleys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brimmed up with quiet shadow, with a mist of sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But afar on the horizon rise great pulses of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hammering of guns, wrestling, locked in conflict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like brute, stone gods of old struggling confusedly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then overhead purrs a shell, and our heavies<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span><span class="i0">Answer, with sudden clapping bruits of sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loosening our shells that stream whining and whimpering precipitately,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hounding through air athirst for blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the little gilt leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flicker in falling, like waifs and flakes of flame.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="TRANSPORT" id="TRANSPORT"></a>TRANSPORT</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon swims in milkiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The road glimmers curving down into the wooded valley<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a clashing and creaking of tackle and axles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The train of limbers passes me, and the mules<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Splash me with mud, thrusting me from the road into puddles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Straining at the tackle with a bitter patience,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passing me....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And into a patch of moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beautiful curved necks and manes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heads reined back, and nostrils dilated,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impatient of restraint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass two gray stallions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as Oenetia bred;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beautiful as the horses of Hippolytus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carven on some antique frieze.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span><span class="i0">And my heart rejoices seeing their strength in play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mere animal life of them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lusting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a thing passionate and proud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then again the limbers and grotesque mules.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Greek_autarkeia" id="Greek_autarkeia"></a><span style="font-size: 120%;">αὑτἁρκεια</span></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am alone: even ranked with multitudes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they alone, each man.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">So are we free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For some few friends of me, some earth of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some shrines, some dreams I dream, some hopes that emerge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the rude stone of life vaguely, and tend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward form in me: the progeny of dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I father; even this England which is mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereof no man has seen the loveliness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with mine eyes: and even too, my God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom none have known as I: for these I fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mine own self, that thus in giving self<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prodigally, as a mere breath in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may possess myself, and spend me so<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span><span class="i0">Mingling with earth, and dreams, and God: and being<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In them the master of all these in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfected thus.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Fight for your own dreams, you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EPIGRAM_R_B" id="EPIGRAM_R_B"></a>EPIGRAM, R. B.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth held thee not, whom now the gray seas hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the blue Cyclades, and even the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Palls but the mortal, for men’s hearts enfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inviolate, the untamed youth of thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="NOW" id="NOW"></a>NOW</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I praise ye for the noble and prodigal virtues,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That are spendthrift of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giving and taking with a light hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this moment only is ours:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of old ye were provident, and frugal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the parsimony of peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now ye will jeopard your lives for a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a mere breath, the shadow of a desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cloaking your valour with a jest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veiling its holiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest wisdom deem ye fools;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vain wisdom of peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The old and hoary craft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seeth not the brightness of the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hideth in the earths of foxes,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span><span class="i0">That weigheth love, and delight, and laughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against minted gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wise ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These but traffic in our gems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are but the merchants of our pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miserly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who shall hoard up life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it were but a heap of golden discs?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it hath the lightest of light feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This quarry of our chase:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it were Proteus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowing from shape to shape under our hands....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shall spread a net to entoil it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or snare it as a bird?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye play with life as with a gamester,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of doubles and shifts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye laugh at each turn of the game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your hearts hawking at a chance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a keen-edged zest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye know not what ye seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having it always.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span><span class="i0">Ye have stolen of my riches;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ye have given me of your dearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last fragment of your broken bread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gone hungry yourselves:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despising the matter of our lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The faults and incompleteness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the crude earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which we are moulding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cunning and nimble fingers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Images of desire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let us laugh and understand each other,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For how could I blame you, my friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ye are so generous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the fruit of your thefts?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yea, this moment is sufficient:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And being artists, after our diverse manners,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When each white dawn cometh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Build we the earth anew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repenting not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yesterdays now drowned in dark, nor desiring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hastening to-morrows.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GROTESQUE" id="GROTESQUE"></a>GROTESQUE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These are the damned circles Dante trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Terrible in hopelessness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But even skulls have their humour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An eyeless and sardonic mockery:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting with streaming eyes in the acrid smoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That murks our foul, damp billet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chant bitterly, with raucous voices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a choir of frogs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hideous irony, our patriotic songs.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DESIRE" id="DESIRE"></a>DESIRE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would sing thy face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting here in the firelight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mid the senseless noise of guns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes it as a flower between the flames.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sea-blue thine eyes, and bright as hawk’s are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet frail thy face as an image in clear water<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a pearl lying there, hidden or plain, when light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wavers upon it: mobile as thy moods are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or faint as a star in the mist’s milk:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And frail thine hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delicate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hovering in infinite slow gesture, nigh speech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hesitating, poised,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fragile: they would not mar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gray bloom on a ripe plum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span><span class="i0">I would sing thy face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To forget this....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thy face sings to me from the slim flames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my praise is silence, and my prayer.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BLUE_AND_GOLD" id="BLUE_AND_GOLD"></a>BLUE AND GOLD</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blue and gold are April days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the wealth of spring unrolled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the wet, bird-haunted ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue and gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their rapture uncontrolled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the trees the blackbirds raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Songs of triumph, clear and bold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the distance is blue haze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hills the fields enfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like still seas in sheltered bays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue and gold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GANHARDINES_SONG" id="GANHARDINES_SONG"></a>GANHARDINE’S SONG</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When my lady climbs the stair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the wet, surf-beaten sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loosening her cloak of hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her slender, foam-white hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my soul cries out in me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fair things God maketh be!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Praise her white, and red, and gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise her lips made sweet with mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her grave eyes, that dreaming hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears, which tremble ere their birth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet what song shall snare the feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of white dawn upon the wheat?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Surely earth’s swift-changing grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starry waters, starry skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fallen in some flower-loved place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak such peace as speak her eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There earth’s sudden wonders are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glassed, as waters glass a star.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span><span class="i0">When my lady climbs the stair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every wandering golden tress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Streams out, through the living air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a flame for loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my soul cries out in me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fair things God maketh be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_SOULS_ANSWER" id="THE_SOULS_ANSWER"></a>THE SOUL’S ANSWER</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My soul said unto me: Yea, God is wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wisdom far too bright for our weak eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is wise!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My soul said unto me: Yea, God is good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And maketh love to be our daily food.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is good!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sent my soul from me that it might tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The damned and make a Heaven where was Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It smiled and said: Nay, fear not, all is well!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WINTER" id="WINTER"></a>WINTER</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">To U. A. T.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bare are the boughs where Love took cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Once in the spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor bird to bird, nor lover to lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whisper or sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A low moon floodeth the level meadows<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With frosty light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheep come softly through mist as shadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Grey in the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And over pasture and plough and fallow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My dreams go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy mouth to kiss and thine hands to hallow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thine heart to know.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_FAUN" id="THE_FAUN"></a>THE FAUN</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kore, O Kore, where art thou fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now that the spring blows white in the land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake out the honeyed locks o’ thine head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plunder the lilies that lie to thine hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glistering saffron loved of the bees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmuring in them, till shadows grow long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dew-dropping silence under the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere break the voluptuous thrillings of song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the brown-throated sweet harbourers there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raptured and grieving under the stars....<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_CUP" id="THE_CUP"></a>THE CUP</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye mock me, wantons, that I come among you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drunken, bedecked with garlands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a white sacrificial bull.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Laugh then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Cypris laughing shakes one petal down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her rose-braided hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honeyed with kisses, to perfume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glowing purple that brims up this gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laugh then, and mock, but kiss me! For what man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would come among you sober? Wise, I come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Borne on Silenus’ ass to praise Eros.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PAROLES_SANS_MUSIQUE" id="PAROLES_SANS_MUSIQUE"></a>PAROLES SANS MUSIQUE</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">For Jelly d’Arànyi</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, the night! The eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are white beneath the plum-blossoms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As an oread beneath the shadow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flowering branches: immobile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among things fugitive and frail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For God hath filled you with the memory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of things forgotten by man; and your eyelids<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close upon lost splendours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea! They are heavy with the secrets of time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Troubled by the strangeness of beauty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mine heart knoweth the secret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your subtile lips and eyes: the silence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein throng presently, with maddening cymbals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bright-tressed torches, the maenads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their cool flesh wreathed with dark vines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span><span class="i0">Ah, the night! The eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honey pale are you, pallid as ivory:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An amber grape, whose sweetness will be wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On some king’s lip!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Here ’mid these golds and purples,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These dusked magnificences,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid strange faces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only your face against the plum-blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know I: remembering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright spear heads in the moonlight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the still tents, the red embers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strings and flutes of pain....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And again the weariness of desiring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, the night! The eyes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DANAE" id="DANAE"></a>DANAE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou, whom the gray seas bare more fierce than they.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O bitter Love! Have pity on his weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smite me with pain; lo, I am all thy prey!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep thou, my son, as all the world is sleeping;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep thou, my babe; and sleep, thou bitter sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ashen thy fruit, O Love, thy crown is pain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet were thy words to me, thy soft caresses.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Child of my heart, O gain beyond all gain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep, while I shelter thee with arms and tresses!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep thou, my babe, and sleep, thou bitter sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span><span class="i0">Yea, I am thine, O Love. I am thy spoil!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep thou, my son, sleep softly till the morrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, thou hast snared me in thy golden toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the loud seas though thou still not my sorrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep thou, my babe; and sleep, thou bitter sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WORSHIP" id="WORSHIP"></a>WORSHIP</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth, sea, and skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me are in thine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, thou for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holdest within thyself eternity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the dew’s sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encloses all the clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fires hung in the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thin moon and the shaken seas delight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where seraphs throne them, glows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quiring God’s name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With music that is sound of joy made flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God’s very grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is perfect in thy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mirrored such wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I mine own soul there imparadise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="TO_A_GIRL" id="TO_A_GIRL"></a>TO A GIRL</h2> + +<h3>(<span class="smcap">Miss E. F.</span>)</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy face, which love renews ever with loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is known and strange as earth, from night each dawn is new:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stirred with such restless beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As water that wind shadoweth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How may love snare thy soul, or know the ways thereof?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subtile as flame it is, and secret as the dews:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even thus closely folded<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love hath thee not, but followeth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From change to change, nor surfeiteth his ecstasy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from so brief a joy desireth new delight,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span><span class="i0">As tho’ the sweet life in thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were fugitive and bodiless.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, love, in thee all change immortal is; nor dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being the soul of thee that pastures on brief joy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this earth’s shows mere seeming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy clear love’s eternity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EROS_ATHANATOS" id="EROS_ATHANATOS"></a>EROS ATHANATOS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As a rose bends in rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your face is bowed into mine arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spilling its golden drops there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fragrance of wet roses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is in my nostrils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the long bright tendrils of your hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Under my hand you tremble as a reed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wind ruffles the water;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such great joy floweth beneath my fingers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rain passes, and the wind strews<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ripples with crimson petals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as blood upon their polished silver.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But my delight of you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fragrant and humid in mine arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a white body convulsive, shaken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the soul’s passion; lips fierce, eager,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span><span class="i0">Passes not, but as a song, as a breath passes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hide it in a silence, a sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among cherishing dews, being music:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the mere lute, nor the singer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the shaped passion of a god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embodied in us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond us, eternal, exultant.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DEMETER_MOURNING" id="DEMETER_MOURNING"></a>DEMETER MOURNING</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have seen her in sorrow, as one blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With grief, across the furrows on soiled feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass, as the cold gray dawn came with cold wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gray as fine steel and keen with bitter sleet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the white moon waning in the skies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I grew holy gazing in her eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then her voice came: Ah! but thou wert too fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek among the dim realms of the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love: and what hands will tremble in thine hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or lips faint on thy lips? The clear stars shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All night their dews on me: and the wind’s breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierced; and my heart grew hungry too for death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span><span class="i0">O flower! O clear pool mirroring the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sight was all my soul! O golden one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hair was like the corn, and rippling seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of new-sprung grasses where the light winds run!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O thou, whose breath was music, and whose mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran like bright water o’er the thirsting earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Surely now where the frail, dim shadows dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast sown all the marvel of Earth’s flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lit with wonder all the ways of Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winged the feet of their slow-footed hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I sit lonely by the water-springs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the bare earth where not one linnet sings!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dead leaves fluttered round her, and she sate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There by the well-side filmed with silver frost,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span><span class="i0">Like some old woman, stricken in her fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With no more heart to wail what she hath lost:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silence grew about her, as though grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stilled the rude winds, and every withered leaf.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_LOST_ANGEL" id="THE_LOST_ANGEL"></a>THE LOST ANGEL</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy love is as clear rivers to a thirsty land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as the rivers of earth bringing the wonder of boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rivers of thy love have filled up the channels of time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth is a lure unto mine eyes. Lo! now I love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fragile fleeting days, warm lips of women.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delights that slip away as fish through water.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soiled am I now with dust, and frustrate glories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wane, and are tarnished on my darkened brows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, all my love is for the joys that perish.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How may mine eyes behold my naked soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more arrayed in wings of my desire?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span><span class="i0">The cold rains smite me, and the winds of sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have driven me down the bitter ways of time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How shall I come again into my peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So heavy is the darkness on eyes and feet?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sayeth: Lo, now, God’s lost angel crowned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With broken hopes, and clothed with grief, and mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting with his despair through the long starless night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, God’s lost angel. Even thus I grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starry amid the solitudes, yea, crowned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my despair, throned even in my fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_MOCKING_SONG" id="THE_MOCKING_SONG"></a>THE MOCKING SONG</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Surely now in the spring-time shall I waken my singing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And song shall blossom out of my lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glowing, as gloweth the golden crocus of Zeus.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the soft white flakes of the winter have covered me over<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a deep stillness not to be told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my heart hath gathered honey of many dreams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now may they blossom as flames, tawny and eager,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaking out their bright hair on the wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soft wind that streameth through the long green, rippling grasses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span><span class="i0">Yea, like a bee, my heart hath fed on the honey of flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is made drunken, and full of strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of the blood-red wine that is fierce and exultant.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ye have turned your faces from song and from dreaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye stirred in the winter and wakened,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your grain was garnered and threshed, yet a hunger filled you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the breasts of Earth had filled me, mine eyes had garnered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many-coloured may, and sweet, red apples,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through every sense had I drunk up her strength, and was sated.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What have ye, O wise ones? The corn ye reaped ye shall sow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye shall watch for rains and tempests;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only I hearing the hail on the roofs shall be gladdened.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span><span class="i0">Ye, being mockers, said: What profiteth him his singing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye stored not the sweetness in your hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye are bent double with the burden of the past, fearful of Time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye go forth into the furrows, but who shall come to the reaping?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, now the golden grain falleth to earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ye be rich in this wise, yet are ye desolate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have gleaned in the hedgerows and wild glades of the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that sweetness sufficeth to me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sweet it is to feel the rain upon face and hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Surely ye have this day: but the wise sweetness in my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the honey of all days which ye have not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shall my soul mock you, when dying, lo! ye are empty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span><span class="i0">Even so when I hungered ye gave me bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hard words ye gave it me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So give I this song unto you with hard words in mockery.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_MOTHER" id="THE_MOTHER"></a>THE MOTHER</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She hath such quiet eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That feed on all earth’s wonders! She will sit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in the orchard, and the bewildering beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of blossoming boughs lulls her as day grows late<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And level sunlight streameth through the tree-stems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lying as pale gold on the green fallows, and gilding the fleeces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the slow-feeding sheep in the pastures.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in her there stirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dream, a delight, a wonder her being knew not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet now remembers, wistfully, as a thing long lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunken in dim, green, lucid sea-caves;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span><span class="i0">And her desire goeth out from her, toward God, through the twilight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost, too, in the waters of unfathomable silence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the child, gazing upward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees the glory of the apple-blossom suddenly scattered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a bird flies through the branches;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he reaches toward the soft, white fluttering petals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That light upon his face, and laughs; and she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stoops over him quickly with sudden, hot, passionate kisses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiling for all her tears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MEDITATION" id="MEDITATION"></a>MEDITATION</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even tho’ I descend into the darkness of deep valleys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet have mine eyes beheld the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my heart treasureth it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One, seeing thy face, loseth it not in dreams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall abide with him through all the days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his heart treasureth it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth dieth in the darkness, but when dawn cometh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slowly the trees and hills grow into the light....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart of darkness cherisheth the dawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who shall forget thee having seen thy face?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have dreamed in my sleep of thee, as a man dreameth of a maiden.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span><span class="i0">Yea! the silence and darkness held thee as a dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! I have seen thee. How shall I forget?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy beauty is treasured up in my heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_HONEY_GATHERER" id="THE_HONEY_GATHERER"></a>THE HONEY GATHERER</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would drink of the honeyed wine that is heavy with poppies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until my trembling eyelids close, and only the murmur<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Life I should know: as the murmur of seas to one sleeping.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glide now the soft, slim feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of white dreams that are lovely and fugitive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom thy sorrow is alien, my beloved!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetly their feet stir the young grasses, they lie coiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In clear dark waters, or couched in the thickets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their whiteness dappled with shadow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So might I forget again the sword of thy beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the desire that looked out from thine eyes, until mine heart leapt<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span><span class="i0">Forth to meet it, and was seared in the flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life was as a net about me, and mine hands might not rend it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I lay in fear among the toils, and afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine ears strained to catch the footsteps of the hunter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Honey and poppies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until desire is drowned within me, until sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath builded a world that is gateless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A world of beautiful luminous waters<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through which the white dreams slip and swim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pearled with fine spray, their bright hair floating,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom love and desire and sorrow are foolishness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy beauty a shadow, that the wind breaketh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy body but dust for the wind’s pasture<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy sorrow but a murmur of waters....<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span><span class="i0">There are they, the exultant, the swan-throated;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the night cometh the sound of their trumpets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until mine heart is drunken with their wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Honey and poppies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until sleep is heavy upon me as a garment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the winged joys come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But even then, O my beloved! is desire and a grieving;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even in the deep waters my soul remembereth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How it hath been troubled by thy hands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CROCUS_SONG" id="CROCUS_SONG"></a>CROCUS SONG</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">For M. C.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The first flame, the first spear of the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing perfected of the dews and fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saffron in hoar-frost, brightened as with wine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou blossoming in the heart of me!<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Ah, golden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is she whose love hath led me through the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing of dews and fire, of wine and saffron!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gray willows veiling my beloved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bend above her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though you would love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now clear water shadoweth her whiteness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere brown bees go abroad murmuring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One saffron crocus hath made glad desire,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span><span class="i0">To follow on swift feet slim feet of thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love wakening for joy of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Beholden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As golden petals of one flower unfurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brimmed up with dews and fire, with wine and saffron.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear waters shadowing her whiteness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow beside her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As tho’ you would hide her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jealous that mine eyes have my beloved.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_IMAGE_SELLER" id="THE_IMAGE_SELLER"></a>THE IMAGE SELLER</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would bring them again unto you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods with broad and placid brows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for you have I wrought their images<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of carven ivory and gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That your lips may be shaped to praise them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your praises be laughter and all delights of the body,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dancing and exultation, a dance of torches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In scarlet sandals, with burnished targes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dance of boys by the wine-press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked, with must-stained purple thighs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of young girls by the river in saffron vesture<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dancing to smitten strings and reed flutes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise then mine images: Helios; Artemis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a leash of straining hounds: and the Foam-born.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span><span class="i0">Turning from love to sleep, drowsy and smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the fluttering of doves and dreams about her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, softer than silk, Hephaistos’ golden net.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, Bacchus and his painted beasts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise ye mine images!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dryad whom clinging ivy holds while laughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swarthy centaur pursuing; and a troop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of small Pans delicate and deformed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet your lips praise not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crying: We too would be deathless as these are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We, the hunted! But dance and adore them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise my sweet grave gods of the blue, and the earth-born!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise their strong grace and swiftness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in these gods mine hands have wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In these alone are ye deathless.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SIMAETHA" id="SIMAETHA"></a>SIMAETHA</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">For D. S. D.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou art wine, Simaetha! When mine eyes drink thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My blood flames with the golden joy thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bewildering me, until thy loveliness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is veiled in its own light: nor know I then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure brows, and placid lips and eyes, and hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wind and sunlight glorious: but all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are mingled in one flame. O thou, in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art shrined, as none hath seen thee, as gods live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Time shall not consume; nor rusts thy gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever, so hath my soul enclosed thee round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its divine air. Yea, thy very life,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span><span class="i0">Which flows through all the guises of thy moods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Escaping as they die, and laughs and weeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And builds again its beauty, have I set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the jeopards of rough time: yea! all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine ivory, imperilled loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winey sanguine where the cheek’s curve takes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light as a bloom upon it, not to pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So there be God.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy praise hath made speech song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And song from lip to lip flies, and black ships<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear it from sea to sea; and on some quay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rise tall masts, and gay booths flank the ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tumbler sings it; and an alien air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembles with thee, while strange men wonder, dumb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see thee pass: thou being all my song.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="TO_THE_UNKNOWN_GODDESS" id="TO_THE_UNKNOWN_GODDESS"></a>TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gross, sensual faces herded; and then you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With magical wide eyes came. Eyes that kept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mirth of dews at dawn in them, and slept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the tumult of the street. They held the blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet, flowering spaces under pines; and knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cropped lawns, where naked dryads dancing leapt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the clash of golden cymbals, while there crept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Furtively on white bellies through the dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To glut on grace, ambiguous fauns, whose eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burned glittering with desire: until the horn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the moon turned ashen; and through the still trees<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span><span class="i0">The lithe shapes feed: and dawn brimmed up the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With winey gold, and walked upon the corn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And murmuring through the vines came gleaming bees.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HURLEYWAYNE" id="HURLEYWAYNE"></a>HURLEYWAYNE</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">For M. S.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such cool peace as fills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green solitudes with trembling light at eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh after summer thunder: and thin leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stir gleaming, and grow still; then the green light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone moves, pulsing in pooled air, that shakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more with sound. Quiet brims full; then break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As dropping rain hurrying elfin feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silvery foam of sound blown as white spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparkling with great bright bubbles: no sound to sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright foam upon blue pools of quiet tossed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a sight of waven manes that gleam<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span><span class="i0">Shaken in the twilight under luminous leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And challenging fairy horns that invite to the chace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gay, light o’ heart. And the galloping host,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winding their horns, rush by as wind in the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shimmering; and the horns from afar ring out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farther and farther away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="TO_SAI" id="TO_SAI"></a>TO SÀÏ</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You chase the blue butterflies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shining dew is shaken by your feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That are white in the young grasses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift, you hesitate, poised;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they elude you; fluttering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the windless gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sàï is small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a little child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With little sorrows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet her tears shine with laughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face comes and goes between the wet leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a face in sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes and goes between green shadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As moving lights hide and shine in the marshes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span><span class="i0">I shall not look at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest she should hide from mine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the shadow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bring her pale honey in a comb, apples<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet and smelling; and leave them beside me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then comes she softly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a bee in the willow-weed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From flower to flower it climbs, and I watch it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the honey and apples are eaten.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sàï is quite close to me; now she has gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has forgotten me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sàï is small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a little child.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p><h2>THE SHEPHERDS’ CAROL OF<br /> +BETHLEHEM<br /></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A golden star hangs in the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the fields are clad in white:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What maketh Mary’s face so pale?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the hour of her travail:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She lies between an ass and beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three kings come riding from the east:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have ridden out of the lands afar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span><span class="i0">In ermine furs and cramasie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A duffle cloak will shelter me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The kings have stooped to Mary’s hem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her eyes travel away from them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What gifts have we to bring the Lord?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither a sceptre, nor a sword:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We bring no gifts but milk and cheese:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a fleece of wool for Mary’s knees:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor myrrh, nor frankincense, nor gold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a fleece to shield Him from the cold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span><span class="i0">Down miry ways, tho’ storms be wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A warm soft fleece for a naked child:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Mary turns her face to sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While we go back to tend our sheep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sparks fly from the crackling thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our God was in a stable born:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tho’ three wise kings rode from the east,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was born between an ass and beast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw no trail of starry light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a child wail in the night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw three shepherds out in the snow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PAST" id="PAST"></a>PAST</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We played in this garden, long ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long ago! Wind stirs the young grasses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Petals drift from the apple-boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like snow, that covers up everything,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Everything!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_BELOVED" id="THE_BELOVED"></a>THE BELOVED</h2> + +<h3>(<span class="smcap">To the Countess of Kintore</span>)</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love, when they told me you were dead, I replied not; I smiled, and they thought me mad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They wept anointing thy body, they swathed thee in linen bands and laid thee in the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hands touched thee as a thing sacred, they mourned for thee with shaken hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was dawn, my beloved, and they came in, into my room, where I lay close to sleep smiling, and they told me you were dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I smiled hearing the swallows coming and going under the eaves, and they told me you were dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth dreamed in dews, the sheep were in the pastures, and they told me you were dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O my beloved, these knew thee not.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<p><a name="Certain_of_these_poems_have_appeared" id="Certain_of_these_poems_have_appeared"></a>Certain of these poems have appeared +in <i>The Spectator</i>, <i>Poetry</i>, <i>The Forum</i>, +<i>The Quest</i>, and <i>The Windsor Magazine</i>. +My thanks are due to the Editors of these +periodicals for permission to reprint them.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<p class="center">PRINTED BY<br /> +HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.,<br /> +LONDON AND AYLESBURY,<br /> +ENGLAND.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Note:</span></h3> + +<p>This book was transcribed directly from the original book, with no corrections made.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eidola, by Frederic Manning + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIDOLA *** + +***** This file should be named 34966-h.htm or 34966-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/6/34966/ + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Eidola + +Author: Frederic Manning + +Release Date: January 15, 2011 [EBook #34966] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIDOLA *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + EIDOLA + BY FREDERIC MANNING + + [Greek: skias eidolon] + AESCHYLUS + + LONDON + JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. + 1917 + + + + + BY FREDERIC MANNING + + POEMS. 3_s._ 6_d._ net + SCENES AND PORTRAITS. 6_s._ net + THE VIGIL OF BRUNHILD. 2_s._ 6_d._ net + + LONDON: JOHN MURRAY + + + + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + + TO + THE COUNTESS OF ANCASTER + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + THE CHOOSERS 1 + SACRIFICE 3 + RELIEVED 5 + REACTION 6 + THE OLD CALVARY 9 + THE GUNS 10 + THE SIGN 12 + A SHELL 14 + THE FACE 15 + WIND 16 + BOIS DE MAMETZ 18 + THE TRENCHES 22 + LEAVES 25 + TRANSPORT 27 + [Greek: autarkeia] 29 + EPIGRAM, R. B. 31 + NOW 32 + GROTESQUE 35 + DESIRE 36 + BLUE AND GOLD 38 + GANHARDINE'S SONG 39 + THE SOUL'S ANSWER 41 + WINTER 42 + THE FAUN 43 + THE CUP 44 + PAROLES SANS MUSIQUE 45 + DANAE 47 + WORSHIP 49 + TO A GIRL 50 + EROS ATHANATOS 52 + DEMETER MOURNING 54 + THE LOST ANGEL 57 + THE MOCKING SONG 59 + THE MOTHER 63 + MEDITATION 65 + THE HONEY GATHERER 67 + CROCUS SONG 70 + THE IMAGE SELLER 72 + SIMAETHA 74 + TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS 76 + HURLEYWAYNE 78 + TO SAI 80 + THE SHEPHERDS' CAROL OF BETHLEHEM 82 + PAST 85 + THE BELOVED 86 + + + + +EIDOLA + + + + +THE CHOOSERS + + + O ye! Fragile, tremulous + Haunters of the deep glades, + Whose fingers part the leaves + Of beech and aspen ere ye slip thro', + Shall I see ye again? + + Men have said unto me: + These are but flying lights and shadows, + Light on the beech-boles, clouds shadowing the corn-fields, + The wind in the flame of birches in autumn, + Wind shadowing the clear pools. + But ye cried, laughing, down the wind: + _Men are but shadows, but a vain breath!_ + + So here cometh unto me + That cry from the rejoicing air: + Men are but shadows! And prone about me + I see them, hushed and sleeping in the hut, + Made solemn and holy by the night, + In the dead light o' the moon: + Shadowy, swathed in their blankets, + As sleep, in hewn sepulchral caves, + Egypt's and Asia's kings. + While between them are the footsteps + Of glittering presences, who say: Lo, one + To be a sword upon my thigh! + And the sleepers stir restlessly and murmur + As between them pass + The bright-mailed choosers of the dead. + + Shall I see ye again, O flying feet + O' the forest-haunters, while I couch silent, + In a wet brake o' blossom, + Dark ivy wreathing your whiteness; + Ere I am torn from the scabbard: + (Lo, one + To be a sword upon my thigh!) + Knowing no longer that earth + Lieth in the dews, shining and sacred? + + + + +SACRIFICE + + + Love suffereth all things. + And we, + Out of the travail and pain of our striving, + Bring unto thee the perfect prayer: + For the heart of no man uttereth love, + Suffering even for love's sake. + + For us no splendid apparel of pageantry, + Burnished breast-plates, scarlet banners and trumpets + Sounding exultantly. + But the mean things of the earth hast thou chosen, + Decked them with suffering, + Made them beautiful with the passion for rightness, + Strong with the pride of love. + + Yea, tho' our praise of thee slayeth us, + Yet love shall exalt us beside thee triumphant, + Dying, that these live: + And the earth again be beautiful with orchards, + Yellow with wheatfields, + And the lips of others praise thee, tho' our lips + Be stopped with earth, and songless. + + But we shall have brought thee their praises, + Brought unto thee the perfect prayer: + For the lips of no man uttereth love, + Suffering even for love's sake. + + O God of sorrows, + Whose feet come softly thro' the dews, + Stoop thou unto us, + For we die so thou livest, + Our hearts the cups of thy vintage: + And the lips of no man uttereth love, + Suffering even for love's sake. + + + + +RELIEVED + +FOR S. J. KIMM + + + We are weary and silent, + There is only the rhythm of marching feet; + Tho' we move tranced, we keep it + As clock-work toys. + + But each man is alone in this multitude; + We know not the world in which we move, + Seeing not the dawn, earth pale and shadowy, + Level lands of tenuous grays and greens; + For our eye-balls have been seared with fire. + + Only we have our secret thoughts, + Our sense floats out from us, delicately apprehensive, + To the very fringes of our being, + Where light drowns. + + + + +REACTION + + + What make you here, Aphrodite, + Lady of the Golden Cymbals, + Would you dance to awaken earth again + As of old on Ida? + Here are no threshing-floors.... + + Men call you delicate, a lover of softness: + Making thine images of ivory, stained with sanguine; + Strewing frail petals of roses before you; + Bringing you soft stuffs of sea-dyes, + Vermilion and saffron sandals, + Floating wimples of filmy webs, that veil you, + As clear water the glittering limbs + Of a nymph beloved of Pan. + + But you come among us, + With sleepy eyelids, and a sleep-soft smile, + Ere we have scraped our boots of the mud + That is half human.... + You come, tho' we are killing the lice in our shirts, + To fill our eyes with the wine of your vision, + Tho' we are weary, and our hearts + Emptied of the old jests. + + _Satia te sanguine_ + You come among men; laughing + At the ramp of the strange beasts + Roaring our songs in estaminets, + With our hands hungry for life again. + You are come curious of our crude intoxications, + The savage pleasures and the gross lusts, + Being weary of the veiled lights, the whispers, + The languid colours, and rare spiced meats + That of old delighted you + In Paphos. + + You would couch with us in the golden straw + Of these great Gothic barns, + With curious curved beams arching, as in shadowy aisles; + While through the broken mud-wall + Light rays, + Like the golden dust + On Danae poured. + + And we turn from the harshness of swords, + Hungering for you.... + And know not that your breasts, + Carven delicately of ivory and gold, + The lips, red and subtile, + Are born of the bitter sea-foam and bright blood. + + + + +THE OLD CALVARY + +TO THE REV. D. L. PROSSER + + + It is propped in a corner of the yard, + Where vines wreathe it + With leaves and delicate tendrils; + A mutilated trunk, + Worn, and gray with weather stains; + Lichens cling to its flesh as a leprosy. + + But for a moment I stood in adoration, + Reverent, as the sun-rays + Struck between the glistening leaves; + Lighting the frail, lean form, + The shrunken flanks, + That knew more suffering than held + The agonies of Laocoon. + + For the memory of many prayers clung to it, + Tenderly, and glistening, + Even as the delicate vine + To the sacred flesh. + + + + +THE GUNS + + + Menace, hidden, but pulsing in the air of night: + Then a throbbing thunder, split and seared + With the scarlet flashes of innumerable shells, + And against it, suddenly, a shell, closer; + A purr that changes to a whine + Like a beast of prey that has missed its kill, + And again, closer. + + But even in the thunder of the guns + There is a silence: and the soul groweth still. + Yea, it is cloaked in stillness: + And it is not fear. + + But the torn and screaming air + Trembles under the onset of warring angels + With terrible and beautiful faces; + And the soul is stilled, knowing these awful shapes, + That burden the night with oppression, + To be but the creatures of its own lusts. + + + + +THE SIGN + + + We are here in a wood of little beeches: + And the leaves are like black lace + Against a sky of nacre. + + One bough of clear promise + Across the moon. + + It is in this wise that God speaketh unto me. + He layeth hands of healing upon my flesh, + Stilling it in an eternal peace. + Until my soul reaches out myriad and infinite hands + Toward him; + And is eased of its hunger. + + And I know that this passes: + This implacable fury and torment of men, + As a thing insensate and vain: + And the stillness hath said unto me, + Over the tumult of sounds and shaken flame, + Out of the terrible beauty of wrath, + _I alone am eternal._ + + One bough of clear promise + Across the moon. + + + + +A SHELL + + + Here we are all, naked as Greeks, + Killing the lice in our shirts: + Suddenly the air is torn asunder, + Ripped as coarse silk, + Then a dull thud.... + We are all squatting. + + + + +THE FACE + + + Out of the smoke of men's wrath, + The red mist of anger, + Suddenly, + As a wraith of sleep, + A boy's face, white and tense, + Convulsed with terror and hate, + The lips trembling.... + + Then a red smear, falling.... + I thrust aside the cloud, as it were tangible, + Blinded with a mist of blood. + The face cometh again + As a wraith of sleep: + A boy's face delicate and blonde, + The very mask of God, + Broken. + + + + +WIND + + + Blow, wind! Strip the great trees + That are like ebony against a sky of jade, + Ebony fretted and contorted. + Blow, hunt the piled clouds that lash the earth with rain; + Roar among the swayed branches; sing shrilly in the grass, + Burdening the pines with the music of pain; + For mine eyes desire the stars. + + Drown the senseless thunder of the guns, + Stream on the ways of air hurrying before thee + The yellow leaves, and the tawny, and scarlet, + Till my soul dance with them, + Dance delightedly as a child or a kitten + Catching at the gay leaves laughingly, + For I would forget, I would forget and laugh again. + + Sing, thou great wind; smite the harp of the wood, + For in thee the souls of slain men are singing exultant, + Now free of the air, feather-footed! Yea, they swim therein + Toward the green twilight, surging + Naked and beautiful with playing muscles, + Yea, even the naked souls of men + Whose beauty is a fierce thing, and slayeth us + Like the terrible majesty of the gods; + Blow, thou great wind, scatter the yellowing leaves. + + + + +BOIS DE MAMETZ + +FOR H. L. + + + Men have marred thee, O Mother: + Autumn hath now no tawny and gilded leaves; + Nor murmuring among sleepy boughs; + But stark and writhen as a woman ravished, + With twisted tortured limbs, + Are Mametz' woods. + + Hath not thy child, Persephone, tall men, + Yea, even all the children of the earth, + Bringing her tribute? + But the reapers sing not in thy wheatfields: + Tall sheaves wait ungarnered, + Though swallows are shrilling in the skies. + + We are reaped, who were thy reapers, and slain our songs; + We are torn as Iason, beloved of thee, Mother: + Heavy the clay upon our lips, + The gray rats fear us not, but pass quickly, sated, + Over prone trunks, rent limbs, dead faces, + That are ashen under the moon. + + Love, who begat us, shall Love slay us utterly? + Shall we not mingle with earth, as with sleep, + Dream into grasses, leafage, flowers, + Such being our very flesh; and shudder + In the glitter of thin shivering poplars, + That tremble like slim girls shaken + At a caress, + Bowed in a clear, keen wind? + + Lo, in us the glory of a new being, + A wonder, a terror, an exultation, + Even in the filth of our shambles, + Loosened as lightnings upon us, devouring us; + Till we be but a shaken wrath of flames, + A many-tongued music of thunder, + Beyond the thunder of guns. + And we fail beneath it, + Sink into our ashes, cower as dogs; + While the glory of many shaken flames + Drowns in the gray of thy dawns, + That reveal unto us + Earth wasted and riven with iron and fire. + Desolate! + + Thou hast turned from us.... + Even so thou art lovely, + As a woman grown old in sorrows, + With patient kindly eyes, + From whom hath passed the shadow of desire; + And her ears keep the whispers of many lovers, + As things heard in sleep. + But thou heed'st not our prayers, our strivings, + The moans of our anguish, + Our mute agonies; + Though thy loins bare us in travail, + Though thou art the bride of our desiring, + Yea, and the child of our desire, + In triple deity; + Knowing things past, and things to come, when both + Meet on the instant, rounding to a who + This intense keen edge of flame + Consuming our poor dust. + + Sit'st thou thus wisely silent, + With subtile and inviolate eyes, + Knowing us but the shadow of thy substance, + As transitory as the leaves? + + Wiselier even.... + Knowing us from the matter of our lives: + Not the sweet leaves the wind stirs, + But the wind, + Whose passage the leaves shadoweth. + + There are no leaves now in thy woods, Mametz. + + + + +THE TRENCHES + + + Endless lanes sunken in the clay, + Bays, and traverses, fringed with wasted herbage, + Seed-pods of blue scabious, and some lingering blooms; + And the sky, seen as from a well, + Brilliant with frosty stars. + We stumble, cursing, on the slippery duck-boards, + Goaded like the damned by some invisible wrath, + A will stronger than weariness, stronger than animal fear, + Implacable and monotonous. + + Here a shaft, slanting, and below + A dusty and flickering light from one feeble candle + And prone figures sleeping uneasily, + Murmuring, + And men who cannot sleep, + With faces impassive as masks, + Bright, feverish eyes, and drawn lips, + Sad, pitiless, terrible faces, + Each an incarnate curse. + + Here in a bay, a helmeted sentry + Silent and motionless, watching while two sleep, + And he sees before him + With indifferent eyes the blasted and torn land + Peopled with stiff prone forms, stupidly rigid, + As tho' they had not been men. + + Dead are the lips where love laughed or sang, + The hands of youth eager to lay hold of life, + Eyes that have laughed to eyes, + And these were begotten, + O love, and lived lightly, and burnt + With the lust of a man's first strength: ere they were rent, + Almost at unawares, savagely; and strewn + In bloody fragments, to be the carrion + Of rats and crows. + + And the sentry moves not, searching + Night for menace with weary eyes. + + + + +LEAVES + + + A frail and tenuous mist lingers on baffled and intricate branches; + Little gilt leaves are still, for quietness holds every bough; + Pools in the muddy road slumber, reflecting indifferent stars; + Steeped in the loveliness of moonlight is earth, and the valleys, + Brimmed up with quiet shadow, with a mist of sleep. + + But afar on the horizon rise great pulses of light, + The hammering of guns, wrestling, locked in conflict + Like brute, stone gods of old struggling confusedly; + Then overhead purrs a shell, and our heavies + Answer, with sudden clapping bruits of sound, + Loosening our shells that stream whining and whimpering precipitately, + Hounding through air athirst for blood. + + And the little gilt leaves + Flicker in falling, like waifs and flakes of flame. + + + + +TRANSPORT + + + The moon swims in milkiness, + The road glimmers curving down into the wooded valley + And with a clashing and creaking of tackle and axles + The train of limbers passes me, and the mules + Splash me with mud, thrusting me from the road into puddles, + Straining at the tackle with a bitter patience, + Passing me.... + And into a patch of moonlight, + With beautiful curved necks and manes, + Heads reined back, and nostrils dilated, + Impatient of restraint, + Pass two gray stallions, + Such as Oenetia bred; + Beautiful as the horses of Hippolytus + Carven on some antique frieze. + And my heart rejoices seeing their strength in play, + The mere animal life of them, + Lusting, + As a thing passionate and proud. + + Then again the limbers and grotesque mules. + + + + +[Greek: autarkeia] + + + I am alone: even ranked with multitudes: + And they alone, each man. + So are we free. + For some few friends of me, some earth of mine, + Some shrines, some dreams I dream, some hopes that emerge + From the rude stone of life vaguely, and tend + Toward form in me: the progeny of dreams + I father; even this England which is mine + Whereof no man has seen the loveliness + As with mine eyes: and even too, my God + Whom none have known as I: for these I fight, + For mine own self, that thus in giving self + Prodigally, as a mere breath in the air, + I may possess myself, and spend me so + Mingling with earth, and dreams, and God: and being + In them the master of all these in me, + Perfected thus. + Fight for your own dreams, you. + + + + +EPIGRAM, R. B. + + + Earth held thee not, whom now the gray seas hold, + By the blue Cyclades, and even the sea + Palls but the mortal, for men's hearts enfold, + Inviolate, the untamed youth of thee. + + + + +NOW + + + I praise ye for the noble and prodigal virtues, + That are spendthrift of all, + Giving and taking with a light hand; + For this moment only is ours: + + Of old ye were provident, and frugal, + With the parsimony of peace. + Now ye will jeopard your lives for a song, + For a mere breath, the shadow of a desire; + Cloaking your valour with a jest, + Veiling its holiness, + Lest wisdom deem ye fools; + The vain wisdom of peace. + + The old and hoary craft, + That seeth not the brightness of the sun, + That hideth in the earths of foxes, + That weigheth love, and delight, and laughter, + Against minted gold. + The wise ... + These but traffic in our gems, + They are but the merchants of our pleasure + Miserly! + + Who shall hoard up life + As it were but a heap of golden discs? + For it hath the lightest of light feet, + This quarry of our chase: + As it were Proteus, + Flowing from shape to shape under our hands.... + Who shall spread a net to entoil it + Or snare it as a bird? + + Ye play with life as with a gamester, + Full of doubles and shifts, + And ye laugh at each turn of the game, + Your hearts hawking at a chance + With a keen-edged zest. + Ye know not what ye seek, + Having it always. + + Ye have stolen of my riches; + But ye have given me of your dearth + The last fragment of your broken bread + And gone hungry yourselves: + Despising the matter of our lives, + The faults and incompleteness + Of the crude earth, + From which we are moulding, + With cunning and nimble fingers, + Images of desire. + + Let us laugh and understand each other, + For how could I blame you, my friends, + When ye are so generous + With the fruit of your thefts? + + Yea, this moment is sufficient: + And being artists, after our diverse manners, + When each white dawn cometh + Build we the earth anew: + Repenting not + Yesterdays now drowned in dark, nor desiring + The hastening to-morrows. + + + + +GROTESQUE + + + These are the damned circles Dante trod, + Terrible in hopelessness, + But even skulls have their humour, + An eyeless and sardonic mockery: + And we, + Sitting with streaming eyes in the acrid smoke, + That murks our foul, damp billet, + Chant bitterly, with raucous voices + As a choir of frogs + In hideous irony, our patriotic songs. + + + + +DESIRE + + + I would sing thy face + Sitting here in the firelight; + Mid the senseless noise of guns + Comes it as a flower between the flames. + + Sea-blue thine eyes, and bright as hawk's are, + Yet frail thy face as an image in clear water + As a pearl lying there, hidden or plain, when light + Wavers upon it: mobile as thy moods are + Or faint as a star in the mist's milk: + And frail thine hands, + Delicate, + Hovering in infinite slow gesture, nigh speech + Hesitating, poised, + Fragile: they would not mar + Gray bloom on a ripe plum. + + I would sing thy face + To forget this.... + But thy face sings to me from the slim flames + And my praise is silence, and my prayer. + + + + +BLUE AND GOLD + + + Blue and gold are April days, + All the wealth of spring unrolled + Down the wet, bird-haunted ways + Blue and gold. + In their rapture uncontrolled, + From the trees the blackbirds raise + Songs of triumph, clear and bold: + And the distance is blue haze, + Where the hills the fields enfold, + Like still seas in sheltered bays + Blue and gold. + + + + +GANHARDINE'S SONG + + + When my lady climbs the stair, + From the wet, surf-beaten sands, + Loosening her cloak of hair, + With her slender, foam-white hands, + All my soul cries out in me: + What fair things God maketh be! + + Praise her white, and red, and gold; + Praise her lips made sweet with mirth, + Her grave eyes, that dreaming hold + Tears, which tremble ere their birth! + Yet what song shall snare the feet + Of white dawn upon the wheat? + + Surely earth's swift-changing grace, + Starry waters, starry skies + Fallen in some flower-loved place, + Speak such peace as speak her eyes; + There earth's sudden wonders are + Glassed, as waters glass a star. + + When my lady climbs the stair, + Every wandering golden tress + Streams out, through the living air, + Like a flame for loveliness, + And my soul cries out in me: + What fair things God maketh be. + + + + +THE SOUL'S ANSWER + + + My soul said unto me: Yea, God is wise + With wisdom far too bright for our weak eyes. + I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is wise! + + My soul said unto me: Yea, God is good + And maketh love to be our daily food. + I answered thus my soul: Yea, God is good! + + I sent my soul from me that it might tell + The damned and make a Heaven where was Hell, + It smiled and said: Nay, fear not, all is well! + + + + +WINTER + +TO U. A. T. + + + Bare are the boughs where Love took cover, + Once in the spring: + Nor bird to bird, nor lover to lover, + Whisper or sing. + + A low moon floodeth the level meadows + With frosty light: + Sheep come softly through mist as shadows, + Grey in the night. + + And over pasture and plough and fallow + My dreams go, + For thy mouth to kiss and thine hands to hallow, + Thine heart to know. + + + + +THE FAUN + + + Kore, O Kore, where art thou fled, + Now that the spring blows white in the land? + Shake out the honeyed locks o' thine head; + Plunder the lilies that lie to thine hand, + Glistering saffron loved of the bees + Murmuring in them, till shadows grow long + With dew-dropping silence under the trees, + Ere break the voluptuous thrillings of song + From the brown-throated sweet harbourers there + Raptured and grieving under the stars.... + + + + +THE CUP + + + Ye mock me, wantons, that I come among you + Drunken, bedecked with garlands + Like a white sacrificial bull. + Laugh then! + So Cypris laughing shakes one petal down + From her rose-braided hair, + Honeyed with kisses, to perfume + The glowing purple that brims up this gold. + Laugh then, and mock, but kiss me! For what man + Would come among you sober? Wise, I come + Borne on Silenus' ass to praise Eros. + + + + +PAROLES SANS MUSIQUE + +FOR JELLY D'ARANYI + + + Ah, the night! The eyes! + You are white beneath the plum-blossoms, + As an oread beneath the shadow + Of flowering branches: immobile, + Among things fugitive and frail. + For God hath filled you with the memory + Of things forgotten by man; and your eyelids + Close upon lost splendours. + Yea! They are heavy with the secrets of time; + Troubled by the strangeness of beauty. + But mine heart knoweth the secret + Of your subtile lips and eyes: the silence + Wherein throng presently, with maddening cymbals, + With bright-tressed torches, the maenads, + Their cool flesh wreathed with dark vines. + + Ah, the night! The eyes! + Honey pale are you, pallid as ivory: + An amber grape, whose sweetness will be wine + On some king's lip! + Here 'mid these golds and purples, + These dusked magnificences, + Amid strange faces + Only your face against the plum-blossom + Know I: remembering + Bright spear heads in the moonlight + By the still tents, the red embers, + The strings and flutes of pain.... + And again the weariness of desiring. + + Ah, the night! The eyes! + + + + +DANAE + + + Thou, whom the gray seas bare more fierce than they. + O bitter Love! Have pity on his weeping, + Smite me with pain; lo, I am all thy prey! + Sleep thou, my son, as all the world is sleeping; + Sleep thou, my babe; and sleep, thou bitter sea; + And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me. + + Ashen thy fruit, O Love, thy crown is pain! + Sweet were thy words to me, thy soft caresses. + Child of my heart, O gain beyond all gain. + Sleep, while I shelter thee with arms and tresses! + Sleep thou, my babe, and sleep, thou bitter sea; + And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me. + + Yea, I am thine, O Love. I am thy spoil! + Sleep thou, my son, sleep softly till the morrow! + Love, thou hast snared me in thy golden toil, + Still the loud seas though thou still not my sorrow! + Sleep thou, my babe; and sleep, thou bitter sea; + And sleep, O grief, within the heart of me. + + + + +WORSHIP + + + Earth, sea, and skies, + For me are in thine eyes, + Yea, thou for me + Holdest within thyself eternity. + + As the dew's sphere + Encloses all the clear + Fires hung in the night, + The thin moon and the shaken seas delight. + + And there the rose + Where seraphs throne them, glows + Quiring God's name, + With music that is sound of joy made flame. + + God's very grace + Is perfect in thy face, + Mirrored such wise + That I mine own soul there imparadise. + + + + +TO A GIRL + +(MISS E. F.) + + + Thy face, which love renews ever with loveliness, + Is known and strange as earth, from night each dawn is new: + Stirred with such restless beauty + As water that wind shadoweth. + + How may love snare thy soul, or know the ways thereof? + Subtile as flame it is, and secret as the dews: + Even thus closely folded + Love hath thee not, but followeth. + + From change to change, nor surfeiteth his ecstasy + That from so brief a joy desireth new delight, + As tho' the sweet life in thee + Were fugitive and bodiless. + + Nay, love, in thee all change immortal is; nor dies, + Being the soul of thee that pastures on brief joy: + And this earth's shows mere seeming + In thy clear love's eternity. + + + + +EROS ATHANATOS + + + As a rose bends in rain + Your face is bowed into mine arms, + Spilling its golden drops there: + And the fragrance of wet roses + Is in my nostrils, + And the long bright tendrils of your hair + Upon me. + + Under my hand you tremble as a reed + When wind ruffles the water; + Such great joy floweth beneath my fingers, + And the rain passes, and the wind strews + The ripples with crimson petals + Bright as blood upon their polished silver. + + But my delight of you + Fragrant and humid in mine arms, + Of a white body convulsive, shaken + With the soul's passion; lips fierce, eager, + Passes not, but as a song, as a breath passes, + To hide it in a silence, a sleep, + Among cherishing dews, being music: + Nor the mere lute, nor the singer, + But the shaped passion of a god + Embodied in us, + Beyond us, eternal, exultant. + + + + +DEMETER MOURNING + + + I have seen her in sorrow, as one blind + With grief, across the furrows on soiled feet + Pass, as the cold gray dawn came with cold wind, + Gray as fine steel and keen with bitter sleet, + Beneath the white moon waning in the skies: + And I grew holy gazing in her eyes. + + Then her voice came: Ah! but thou wert too fair + To seek among the dim realms of the dead + Love: and what hands will tremble in thine hair + Or lips faint on thy lips? The clear stars shed + All night their dews on me: and the wind's breath + Pierced; and my heart grew hungry too for death. + + O flower! O clear pool mirroring the trees, + Whose sight was all my soul! O golden one, + Whose hair was like the corn, and rippling seas + Of new-sprung grasses where the light winds run! + O thou, whose breath was music, and whose mirth + Ran like bright water o'er the thirsting earth. + + Surely now where the frail, dim shadows dwell + Thou hast sown all the marvel of Earth's flowers + And lit with wonder all the ways of Hell + And winged the feet of their slow-footed hours, + While I sit lonely by the water-springs + On the bare earth where not one linnet sings! + + The dead leaves fluttered round her, and she sate + There by the well-side filmed with silver frost, + Like some old woman, stricken in her fate, + With no more heart to wail what she hath lost: + And silence grew about her, as though grief + Stilled the rude winds, and every withered leaf. + + + + +THE LOST ANGEL + + + Thy love is as clear rivers to a thirsty land, + Even as the rivers of earth bringing the wonder of boughs, + The rivers of thy love have filled up the channels of time. + Earth is a lure unto mine eyes. Lo! now I love + The fragile fleeting days, warm lips of women. + Delights that slip away as fish through water. + O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart. + + Soiled am I now with dust, and frustrate glories + Wane, and are tarnished on my darkened brows; + Yea, all my love is for the joys that perish. + How may mine eyes behold my naked soul + No more arrayed in wings of my desire? + The cold rains smite me, and the winds of sorrow + Have driven me down the bitter ways of time. + O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart. + + How shall I come again into my peace, + So heavy is the darkness on eyes and feet? + One sayeth: Lo, now, God's lost angel crowned + With broken hopes, and clothed with grief, and mute, + Sitting with his despair through the long starless night, + I, God's lost angel. Even thus I grow + Starry amid the solitudes, yea, crowned + With my despair, throned even in my fall, + O, God, thou knowest what is in my heart. + + + + +THE MOCKING SONG + + + Surely now in the spring-time shall I waken my singing + And song shall blossom out of my lips, + Glowing, as gloweth the golden crocus of Zeus. + + For the soft white flakes of the winter have covered me over + With a deep stillness not to be told, + And my heart hath gathered honey of many dreams. + + Now may they blossom as flames, tawny and eager, + Shaking out their bright hair on the wind. + The soft wind that streameth through the long green, rippling grasses. + + Yea, like a bee, my heart hath fed on the honey of flowers + And is made drunken, and full of strength, + Full of the blood-red wine that is fierce and exultant. + + But ye have turned your faces from song and from dreaming, + Ye stirred in the winter and wakened, + Your grain was garnered and threshed, yet a hunger filled you. + + But the breasts of Earth had filled me, mine eyes had garnered + Many-coloured may, and sweet, red apples, + Through every sense had I drunk up her strength, and was sated. + + What have ye, O wise ones? The corn ye reaped ye shall sow, + Ye shall watch for rains and tempests; + Only I hearing the hail on the roofs shall be gladdened. + + Ye, being mockers, said: What profiteth him his singing? + Ye stored not the sweetness in your hearts, + Ye are bent double with the burden of the past, fearful of Time. + + Ye go forth into the furrows, but who shall come to the reaping? + Lo, now the golden grain falleth to earth! + Though ye be rich in this wise, yet are ye desolate. + + I have gleaned in the hedgerows and wild glades of the forest, + And that sweetness sufficeth to me: + For sweet it is to feel the rain upon face and hair. + + Surely ye have this day: but the wise sweetness in my heart + Is the honey of all days which ye have not. + So shall my soul mock you, when dying, lo! ye are empty. + + Even so when I hungered ye gave me bread, + With hard words ye gave it me. + So give I this song unto you with hard words in mockery. + + + + +THE MOTHER + + + She hath such quiet eyes, + That feed on all earth's wonders! She will sit + Here in the orchard, and the bewildering beauty + Of blossoming boughs lulls her as day grows late + And level sunlight streameth through the tree-stems + Lying as pale gold on the green fallows, and gilding the fleeces + Of the slow-feeding sheep in the pastures. + While in her there stirs, + A dream, a delight, a wonder her being knew not, + Yet now remembers, wistfully, as a thing long lost, + Sunken in dim, green, lucid sea-caves; + And her desire goeth out from her, toward God, through the twilight, + Lost, too, in the waters of unfathomable silence. + + But the child, gazing upward, + Sees the glory of the apple-blossom suddenly scattered, + As a bird flies through the branches; + And he reaches toward the soft, white fluttering petals + That light upon his face, and laughs; and she + Stoops over him quickly with sudden, hot, passionate kisses, + Smiling for all her tears. + + + + +MEDITATION + + + Even tho' I descend into the darkness of deep valleys, + Yet have mine eyes beheld the light, + And my heart treasureth it. + + One, seeing thy face, loseth it not in dreams. + It shall abide with him through all the days; + And his heart treasureth it. + + Earth dieth in the darkness, but when dawn cometh + Slowly the trees and hills grow into the light.... + The heart of darkness cherisheth the dawn. + + Who shall forget thee having seen thy face? + I have dreamed in my sleep of thee, as a man dreameth of a maiden. + + Yea! the silence and darkness held thee as a dream. + Lo! I have seen thee. How shall I forget? + + Thy beauty is treasured up in my heart. + + + + +THE HONEY GATHERER + + + I would drink of the honeyed wine that is heavy with poppies + Until my trembling eyelids close, and only the murmur + Of Life I should know: as the murmur of seas to one sleeping. + Glide now the soft, slim feet + Of white dreams that are lovely and fugitive + To whom thy sorrow is alien, my beloved! + Sweetly their feet stir the young grasses, they lie coiled + In clear dark waters, or couched in the thickets, + Their whiteness dappled with shadow, + So might I forget again the sword of thy beauty + And the desire that looked out from thine eyes, until mine heart leapt + Forth to meet it, and was seared in the flame. + Life was as a net about me, and mine hands might not rend it, + But I lay in fear among the toils, and afar + Mine ears strained to catch the footsteps of the hunter. + + Honey and poppies! + Until desire is drowned within me, until sleep + Hath builded a world that is gateless, + A world of beautiful luminous waters + Through which the white dreams slip and swim, + Pearled with fine spray, their bright hair floating, + To whom love and desire and sorrow are foolishness + And thy beauty a shadow, that the wind breaketh. + And thy body but dust for the wind's pasture + And thy sorrow but a murmur of waters.... + There are they, the exultant, the swan-throated; + Through the night cometh the sound of their trumpets, + Until mine heart is drunken with their wine. + + Honey and poppies! + Until sleep is heavy upon me as a garment, + Until the winged joys come. + But even then, O my beloved! is desire and a grieving; + Even in the deep waters my soul remembereth + How it hath been troubled by thy hands. + + + + +CROCUS SONG + +FOR M. C. + + + The first flame, the first spear of the spring, + A thing perfected of the dews and fire, + Saffron in hoar-frost, brightened as with wine: + Thou blossoming in the heart of me! + Ah, golden + Is she whose love hath led me through the world + A thing of dews and fire, of wine and saffron! + Gray willows veiling my beloved + Bend above her, + As though you would love her, + Now clear water shadoweth her whiteness. + + Ere brown bees go abroad murmuring, + One saffron crocus hath made glad desire, + To follow on swift feet slim feet of thine; + Love wakening for joy of thee, + Beholden + As golden petals of one flower unfurled, + Brimmed up with dews and fire, with wine and saffron. + Clear waters shadowing her whiteness + Flow beside her, + As tho' you would hide her, + Jealous that mine eyes have my beloved. + + + + +THE IMAGE SELLER + + + I would bring them again unto you, + The gods with broad and placid brows; + And for you have I wrought their images + Of carven ivory and gold; + That your lips may be shaped to praise them, + And your praises be laughter and all delights of the body, + Dancing and exultation, a dance of torches + In scarlet sandals, with burnished targes: + A dance of boys by the wine-press + Naked, with must-stained purple thighs: + Of young girls by the river in saffron vesture + Dancing to smitten strings and reed flutes. + Praise then mine images: Helios; Artemis, + With a leash of straining hounds: and the Foam-born. + + Turning from love to sleep, drowsy and smiling, + With the fluttering of doves and dreams about her + And, softer than silk, Hephaistos' golden net. + Lo, Bacchus and his painted beasts! + Praise ye mine images! + A dryad whom clinging ivy holds while laughs + The swarthy centaur pursuing; and a troop + Of small Pans delicate and deformed. + Yet your lips praise not, + Crying: We too would be deathless as these are, + We, the hunted! But dance and adore them, + Praise my sweet grave gods of the blue, and the earth-born! + Praise their strong grace and swiftness! + For in these gods mine hands have wrought, + In these alone are ye deathless. + + + + +SIMAETHA + +FOR D. S. D. + + + Thou art wine, Simaetha! When mine eyes drink thee + My blood flames with the golden joy thou art, + Bewildering me, until thy loveliness + Is veiled in its own light: nor know I then + Pure brows, and placid lips and eyes, and hair + With wind and sunlight glorious: but all + Are mingled in one flame. O thou, in me, + Art shrined, as none hath seen thee, as gods live + Whom Time shall not consume; nor rusts thy gold + Ever, so hath my soul enclosed thee round + With its divine air. Yea, thy very life, + Which flows through all the guises of thy moods, + Escaping as they die, and laughs and weeps + And builds again its beauty, have I set + Beyond the jeopards of rough time: yea! all + Thine ivory, imperilled loveliness, + And winey sanguine where the cheek's curve takes + Light as a bloom upon it, not to pass + So there be God. + Thy praise hath made speech song + And song from lip to lip flies, and black ships + Bear it from sea to sea; and on some quay + Where rise tall masts, and gay booths flank the ways + A tumbler sings it; and an alien air + Trembles with thee, while strange men wonder, dumb + To see thee pass: thou being all my song. + + + + +TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS + + + Gross, sensual faces herded; and then you + With magical wide eyes came. Eyes that kept + The mirth of dews at dawn in them, and slept + To the tumult of the street. They held the blue, + Sweet, flowering spaces under pines; and knew + Cropped lawns, where naked dryads dancing leapt + To the clash of golden cymbals, while there crept + Furtively on white bellies through the dew, + To glut on grace, ambiguous fauns, whose eyes + Burned glittering with desire: until the horn + Of the moon turned ashen; and through the still trees + The lithe shapes feed: and dawn brimmed up the skies + With winey gold, and walked upon the corn; + And murmuring through the vines came gleaming bees. + + + + +HURLEYWAYNE + +FOR M. S. + + + Such cool peace as fills + Green solitudes with trembling light at eve, + Fresh after summer thunder: and thin leaves + Stir gleaming, and grow still; then the green light + Alone moves, pulsing in pooled air, that shakes + No more with sound. Quiet brims full; then break + As dropping rain hurrying elfin feet, + A silvery foam of sound blown as white spray, + Sparkling with great bright bubbles: no sound to sense, + Bright foam upon blue pools of quiet tossed: + And a sight of waven manes that gleam + Shaken in the twilight under luminous leaves; + And challenging fairy horns that invite to the chace + Gay, light o' heart. And the galloping host, + Winding their horns, rush by as wind in the grass, + Shimmering; and the horns from afar ring out, + Farther and farther away. + + + + +TO SAI + + + You chase the blue butterflies, + The shining dew is shaken by your feet, + That are white in the young grasses; + Swift, you hesitate, poised; + And they elude you; fluttering + In the windless gold. + + Sai is small, + But a little child, + With little sorrows; + Yet her tears shine with laughter, + Her face comes and goes between the wet leaves, + As a face in sleep + Comes and goes between green shadows, + As moving lights hide and shine in the marshes. + + I shall not look at her, + Lest she should hide from mine eyes + In the shadow. + I bring her pale honey in a comb, apples + Sweet and smelling; and leave them beside me; + Then comes she softly. + There is a bee in the willow-weed, + From flower to flower it climbs, and I watch it + Till the honey and apples are eaten. + Sai is quite close to me; now she has gone + She has forgotten me. + + Sai is small, + But a little child. + + + + + THE SHEPHERDS' CAROL OF + BETHLEHEM + + + A golden star hangs in the night, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + And all the fields are clad in white: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + What maketh Mary's face so pale? + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + It is the hour of her travail: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + She lies between an ass and beast, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + Three kings come riding from the east: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + They have ridden out of the lands afar: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + In ermine furs and cramasie, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + A duffle cloak will shelter me: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + The kings have stooped to Mary's hem, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + But her eyes travel away from them: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + What gifts have we to bring the Lord? + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + Neither a sceptre, nor a sword: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + We bring no gifts but milk and cheese: + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + And a fleece of wool for Mary's knees: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Nor myrrh, nor frankincense, nor gold: + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + But a fleece to shield Him from the cold: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Down miry ways, tho' storms be wild, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + A warm soft fleece for a naked child: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Now Mary turns her face to sleep: + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + While we go back to tend our sheep: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + The sparks fly from the crackling thorn, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + Our God was in a stable born: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + Tho' three wise kings rode from the east, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + He was born between an ass and beast: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow. + + I saw no trail of starry light, + Heigh-ho, the bitter winds blow! + I heard a child wail in the night: + I saw three shepherds out in the snow! + + + + +PAST + + + We played in this garden, long ago, + Long ago! Wind stirs the young grasses; + Petals drift from the apple-boughs, + Like snow, that covers up everything, + Everything! + + + + +THE BELOVED + +(TO THE COUNTESS OF KINTORE) + + + Love, when they told me you were dead, I replied not; + I smiled, and they thought me mad. + They wept anointing thy body, they swathed thee in linen bands + and laid thee in the earth. + Their hands touched thee as a thing sacred, they mourned for thee + with shaken hearts. + It was dawn, my beloved, and they came in, into my room, where I lay + close to sleep smiling, and they told me you were dead. + I smiled hearing the swallows coming and going under the eaves, + and they told me you were dead. + The earth dreamed in dews, the sheep were in the pastures, + and they told me you were dead. + + O my beloved, these knew thee not. + + + + +Certain of these poems have appeared in _The Spectator_, _Poetry_, _The +Forum_, _The Quest_, and _The Windsor Magazine_. My thanks are due to +the Editors of these periodicals for permission to reprint them. + + + + + PRINTED BY + HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD., + LONDON AND AYLESBURY, + ENGLAND. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eidola, by Frederic Manning + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIDOLA *** + +***** This file should be named 34966.txt or 34966.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/6/34966/ + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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