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diff --git a/77093-0.txt b/77093-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..385b38c --- /dev/null +++ b/77093-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,965 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77093 *** + + This ebook was created in honor of + Distributed Proofreaders’ 25th Anniversary. + + + + + A SILVER POOL + + + + + A SILVER POOL + + _by_ + + _BEULAH FIELD_ + + [Illustration: Publisher’s Colophon] + + NEW YORK + MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY + 1922 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY + MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + INSPIRATION 9 + + “BEGGAR-MAN, THIEF” 10 + + CARNIVAL 11 + + BRANDED 12 + + FOR AN ELIZABETHAN GARLAND 13 + + WHEN I REMEMBER 14 + + THE WAYFARER 15 + + PIERROT 16 + + TO LY-Y-HANE 17-18 + + WIND OF THE SEA 19 + + PERHAPS 20 + + IN THE STREET OF PAINTED FLOWERS 21-22 + + MYSTERY 23 + + WATCH-FIRES 24 + + TOKENS 25 + + CAMEO 26 + + BLUE FLAMES AND FLOWERS 27 + + THE LAW 28 + + MIRACLE 29 + + VALUES 30 + + FAME 31 + + RAINBOW 32 + + GLASS BEADS 33 + + WILLOWS 34 + + THE DEAD LOVER 35 + + LITTLE WHITE GATE 36 + + IMMORTAL 37 + + MY COMMUNION 38 + + STARS 39 + + DISAPPOINTMENTS 40 + + INTERLUDE 41 + + TO MY FATHER 42 + + CONFESSIONAL 43 + + RECOMPENSE 44 + + MOCKERY 45 + + REBELLION 46 + + THE MESSENGER 47 + + “NEEDLES AND PINS” 48 + + TO JUNE 49 + + TO CONGDON 50 + + + + +TO CONGDON + + + + +INSPIRATION + + + I bridled my soul in its temple, + Waiting a while, + Till I knew the peace of a tempered touch, + And changeless smile. + + Then I made my heart a silver pool + Of melody, + And stars came down from the sky at night + And bathed in me. + + + + +“BEGGAR-MAN, THIEF” + + + A beggar on the edge of town + Looked up and smiled at me, + And offered for the coin I held, + A seedling laurel tree. + + A merchant in the market-place, + A laughing, lordly knave, + Filled my hands with tarnished gems, + And took the coin I gave. + + If I could find that beggar-man, + I’d give to him my soul, + If he would share his bread with me, + And coppers from his bowl. + + + + +CARNIVAL + + + I gave a rose to a dancing girl, + She did not know + It was tribute I paid to a joy, + Dead long ago. + + I sang my song in the market-place, + They did not hear + I was challenging love with a laugh, + And grief and fear. + + Life danced on my heart with careless feet, + And never knew + The beauty it gave in gift to me, + Was tied with rue. + + I walked the ways of a heedless world, + And found it mad, + So, now I drift in the wake of dreams, + And I am glad. + + + + +BRANDED + + + I have found me a darkling mistress, + Who is all my need and desire; + Her slave in a willing bondage, + I bathe in her opal fire. + She has given me gorgeous dawns + From the rim of her saffron seas; + There is joy in the burning wind + That comes from her fronded keys. + I know the grip of her brilliant days, + And the scorching spell of her nights, + When pagan gods seduce me + With the lure of their heathen rites. + I know the call of her hard, white roads, + The choking heat of her rains, + And I laugh in my soul with God, + At the lash of her hurricanes. + I have dipped in her amethyst bowl, + And painted me splendid dreams, + But I know the clutch of a dreadful fear, + When her crawling jungle screams. + I have felt the kiss of her fever, + That she hides in her tainted breath, + And have heard the roll of her drums, + When they beat their songs of death. + I have trailed with her treacherous spawn, + And sinned with her exiled band; + I am tuned to her siren voice, + And seared with her vicious brand. + I know the taste of her poisoned bread, + I am drunk with her evil wine, + But I am in thrall to her Cross, + Since she marked me with its Sign. + + + + +FOR AN ELIZABETHAN GARLAND + + + It is content I give to you, + And you? + You give me love. + But I would have the sweet content, + And you? + Would you have love? + + + + +WHEN I REMEMBER + + + You never come and speak to me when I am glad, + But only if the flowers in my garden droop with rain, + And when the sunlight runs away from skies gone mad, + Then I am hushed, and hear your voice again. + Although I light my lamp and bar the door, + I feel your presence crowding, more and more, + Until I crouch among the shadows on the floor, + And watch my memories dance their dance of pain. + + + + +THE WAYFARER + + + Only the wind from the Seven Hills + Can mate with the heart of me, + And the mist, adrift on the cliffs at night, + That blows from the dusky sea. + + Only the song of the flying stars + Can reach to my muted soul, + And speed my feet on the wild, free track + That swings from Pole to Pole. + + I spell my lore from the sand of dreams, + I sleep by eternal meres, + My stirrup-cup is the kiss of dawn, + My hearth is the boundless spheres. + + + + +PIERROT + + + Pierrot came and watched me + Sewing on my seam, + And handed me gay, silken threads, + Broken from a dream. + + He helped me trim the lantern + That hangs beside my door, + And brought me petaled thoughts + To sprinkle on the floor. + + He picked a rose and left me, + In the shadowed light, + But I found the gate ajar, + Swinging in the night. + + Then I ran and gathered stars, + From the hollows of the sea, + And pinned them on my breast-- + Pierrot called to me. + + + + +TO LY-Y-HANE + +_Chinese Poetess, 12th Century A. D._[1] + + + Once I heard a singing wind, + Across a still lagoon, + I thought a thousand bells of jade + Were swinging in the moon. + + And once, I felt soft petals + Fall from a flowering quince, + And trembled when I half divined + Your song, that died long since. + + Above the dread and somber beat + Of mighty, dragon wings, + Perhaps my quiet heart will hear + Your lute of silver strings. + +[1] + +_LY-Y-HANE_ + +LY-Y-HANE _lived during the Song Dynasty, in the 12th century of our +era. She is admired, not only as a clever and graceful composer of +verses, but as a superior intellect and a true scholar, accustomed to +all the minutiae and intricacies of the art of poetry._ + +_The incurable wound of her heart, bleeding in solitude, is practically +the only subject with which she deals._ + +_As far as can be known, the love that devours this Chinese Sappho is +ignored by him who inspires it._ + +_One might say she was a flower become enamoured of a bird. The +changing seasons are the only events, the objects that adorn her home +the only evidences of a life consecrated to the expression of a single +sentiment._ + +_She lived entombed with her suffering, hoping never to be deprived of +it or cured, and she named in advance the volume that posterity would +perhaps collect of all her scattered verses: “The Debris of My Heart.”_ + +From _The Book of Jade_. (Translated by James Whittall.) + + + + +WIND OF THE SEA + + + The Wind of the Sea is my turbulent lover, + When he gathers me close and kisses my face, + I rise to the zenith, there to discover + Peace, in surrender to his fierce embrace; + He holds me and folds me in whirlpools of light, + Then lulls me to sleep, in his arms, with the night. + + + + +PERHAPS + + + It must be hard to be the Moon, + And weary of the sky; + Although I weary of my path, + Someday I can die, + But then perhaps I’ll trail with her, + And weary of the sky! + + + + +IN THE STREET OF PAINTED FLOWERS + + + When will the whirl of this wheel be done? + Does the Spinner dream, and my shroud unspun? + I am spent with the lust of greedy nights, + The fitful flame, and greying lights + Masking joy, in this devil’s dance, + That has tripped my feet on the road of Chance. + My song is hushed, and once it sped, + As water ripples the river’s bed, + Through laughing days in the gay bazars, + And freed my soul beneath the stars. + Now I am bought, as then I was sold, + But Allah witness, this is not gold, + But tinsel coin, that eats my heart, + And sets me aside, a thing apart. + Does Heaven sleep, that it lets me be, + And blinds my eyes, that I may not see + The sun, that came to kiss my cheek + When I stepped from my tent to the waiting Sheik? + I am sick for the sound of camels’ feet + Padding their way through the languid heat, + The scent of cool on the evening air, + And the grip of the muezzin’s call to prayer. + In those desert nights, where the shadows clung + To the blowing sand, that swirled and stung, + When my lord bent down and I knew his lips, + I was fulfilled to my finger tips. + Then, I was slave to a king, at least, + Now, I am slave to a furtive beast. + Did Allah mock, when he stilled my breath, + Then called me back from the paths of death, + To dance to the tune of reeling spheres, + With only a dream to bridge the years? + Ash is the flame of my painted shell, + I have no heart save the desert’s spell, + Mine is the fugitive soul of a slave, + And I would go back to my sand-swept grave. + + + + +MYSTERY + + + I bear on my breast the touch and sign + Of God and His oriflamme, + But only the somber eyes of Death + Can tell me who I am. + + + + +WATCH-FIRES + + + I care not if the touch of Time + Destroys the outer garment of my heart, + For deep within, steadfast, a living fire, + Love burns, and guards your shrine apart. + + I care not if Death’s borders hold + A splendid peace, deep as an unshoaled sea, + I count peace only in the quiet joy + That comes, when you are glad with me. + + I care not if the ruthless years + Shadow my soul, in passing on their flight, + If, through the devastating dark, I know + Your love, a tidal-wave of light. + + + + +TOKENS + + + I built a little fire yesterday at dusk, + To burn the gifts of all my broken years, + And at the last I tossed upon the flames, + The crystalled drops, that once were falling tears. + + When morning came, I gathered all the ashes up, + Then swept my hearth, to make it clean again, + And found, within a crevice of the stones, + A jewel, that I knew had once been pain. + + + + +CAMEO + + + A little room, a dream-lit hearth, + Rosemary in a bowl of jade; + Budding orchard, thrush’s song, + A golden morning, dappled shade. + + A steel-blue sea, the wind’s high will, + A red sun dropping down the sky, + Purple shadows on the dunes, + Upon the road, just you and I. + + + + +BLUE FLAMES AND FLOWERS + + + Blue flames, shining in my heart-- + Twice lovely stars, + Dear lips, folded close with mine, + Sweet as scented jars, + + If a myriad scarlet flowers, + In a jasper bowl, + Distilled to leaping fires, + Could weld us soul to soul, + + I would go across the heavens, + After night had gone, + And gather for you dreams, + In the gardens of the dawn. + + + + +THE LAW + + + Out of the dark of a night of rain, + Day has flowered to light again; + And from the silence the ages long, + Has come the joy of a wood-bird’s song. + + Broken souls in a barren vale, + Created the need for a Holy Grail; + And blasphemous sin painted for me, + The pale, red bloom of the Judas tree. + + The costly price of hallowed tears + Has sown the wastes through countless years; + And over a crimson, riven sod + Lies a clear, white road that leads to God. + + + + +MIRACLE + + + It is so long ago I lived, + Holding back the hours + That sped through days of golden light, + And brought me laughing showers. + It is so long ago I died + To shut my heart from pain, + And yet, you reach your hands to me, + And bid me love again. + + + + +VALUES + + + I hear you crying for the Moon, + When she drifts proudly by, + And see you reaching for the wealth, + She scatters in the sky. + + While I crave only strands of gold + That fringe your melody, + And moon-flowers growing in my heart, + When you are kind to me. + + + + +FAME + + + I lay on the edge of desert sands, + And watched It dance; + Mirage was painted before my eyes, + With brush of chance. + + I followed the track of the Phantom + Down to the sea, + And found that only a chill, spent wind + Had called to me. + + + + +RAINBOW + + + There was a house of many rooms, + Windows and walls and doors, + Where shadows etched the ceilings, + And crept across the floors. + + There sunlight only flickered, + And seemed a wanton ghost + Lavishing an empty feast, + Upon a motley host. + + When I left that changeling home, + I hid my ragged scars, + Then bound my heart with singing days, + And night-time climbed the stars. + + + + +GLASS BEADS + + + I was a mendicant, begging my bread + From pilgrims shouting the dawn, + And they gave me thorns that tore my robe, + And took my prayers in pawn. + + But now, outside the Temple door, + I stand and let them pass; + While I watch for the sun on the Eastern hills, + They fumble beads of glass. + + + + +WILLOWS + + + When I loitered on the paths + Of gay and vivid hours, + My songs all ran away and hid, + And seemed afraid of flowers. + + But in among the shadows, + Beneath the willow tree, + All my little unsung songs + Come singing back to me. + + + + +THE DEAD LOVER + + + You say I am dead, that my being + Has passed with intangible dreams; + You hold me a shadow of shadows, + One moat in myriad beams. + + But I am the yield of the harvest, + Astir in the ripening corn; + My voice is the wind of the forest, + I breathe and impregnate the dawn. + + I spring from the womb of the ocean, + And rise in its flying foam, + Till I merge with the quickening rain + That falls on the fertile loam. + + Dear of my heart, when the moonlight + Comes dusting the shimmering grass, + You may lie unveiled in your bridal, + My lips are on yours as I pass. + + You say I am dead, that communion + Has spilled from our sacrament bowl, + Nay, Love, I am seed of Creation, + Immutable flame with the Whole. + + + + +LITTLE WHITE GATE + + + Little painted, wooden gate, + Swinging in and out, + Crickets chirping in the grass, + Honey-bees about; + + Hollyhocks and marigolds + Laughing in the sun, + Where quiet pools of shadows + Ripple, one by one; + + Friendly glow of lamplight + Across the window sill. + From the dark a plaintive voice + Calling “Whippoor-will.” + + Moonlight trailing up the path + Draperies of foam, + Spell for me contentment, + And the peace of home. + + + + +IMMORTAL + + + Was he king or a bonded slave? + The beauty he sang still sings, + Vibrant as falling stars + In the path of radiant wings. + + Does he sleep where the laurel grows? + Did he beg his cup and his bread? + He left the sign of his joy, + And he lives with the mighty dead. + + Marked by the print of his feet, + The dust of this ancient floor + Glows, spun-flame in the dark, + What matters the name that he bore! + + + + +MY COMMUNION + + + Cupped in the hollow of your hands, + You hold my hidden fears, + My faith, the songs within my joy, + And all my tears. + + Within the chalice of your heart, + There brims compassion’s mead, + Bounty of foaming drink for me + To quench my need. + + I grave the pattern of my love + Upon your spirit’s bowl, + And in the splendour of your wine, + I steep my soul. + + + + +STARS + + + When I watch a pale, green sky, + At night, upon the hills, + I wonder if my garden bears + Such blowing daffodils; + And if the lustre of my dreams + Comes from those amber rills. + + + + +DISAPPOINTMENTS + + + In the Valley of Nadir lies a deep, black pool, + And it mirrors only rainy harvest moons; + In the fringes of its grasses are little bleached, white bones, + And broken, faded ribbons, from gaudy, pricked balloons. + Restless shadows stumble ’round it, through the hot nights and the cool, + And their crippled feet are weighted down with stones; + Sometimes an echo whispers of golden, summer noons, + But you only hear the wind there, when it moans. + + + + +INTERLUDE + + + When Night-time stoops to lay her hands + Upon my tired eyes, + And strings her silver lanterns + Across the curtained skies, + + Reflected in the mirror, + She holds above my sleep-- + I see a golden lotus, + She bids me pick and keep. + + Then, drugged, my soul goes speeding + Across a dream-swept plain, + Until I stumble back at dawn, + To break my heart again. + + + + +TO MY FATHER + + + Although you touched my life so brief a time, + Because of you, I tread the stressful years + With courage, patterned from your quiet strength, + And laughter tempering my meed of tears. + + Because of you, I hold and reverence books, + High in my heart, as is my creed of song, + And to the imprint of your kindliness, + The measure of my love and faith belong. + + Because you held my hand that little while, + I know a joy in all green, growing things, + And rapture, when strong music breaks, and soars + A veil of flame on iridescent wings. + + Your love has framed the window of my life, + And as I watch the twilight creeping through, + I know whatever sacraments I share + With peace and beauty, are because of you. + + + + +CONFESSIONAL + + + Red fire of dawn burning in the sky, + Leaping from the purple embers of the night, + A sovereign glory in a sapphire cup, + This is my altar light. + + Rising from an early-kindled hearth, + A pungent veil of smoke spirals in the air, + And seems the incense drifting on my heart, + That sanctifies my prayer. + + From beyond uncharted seas the wind, + Like pilgrim priest, comes to bless the waking sod, + And shrives me in my penitence, then bears + My sorrow up to God. + + + + +RECOMPENSE + + + Though Hunger shuffles up the path, + And leaves his pack of scars, + When songs sweep through my heart-- + Bright sails on golden spars, + I breathe the dust of lilies, + Asleep among the stars. + + + + +MOCKERY + + + I dreamed Love came with golden thong, + And bound me to his wrist, + Then swept me out on winds of flame, + Through space the sun had kissed. + + Instead, Love came in jester’s garb, + Flaunting his cap and bells, + And led me to a far, strange tent, + Beside dead, desert wells. + + + + +REBELLION + + + If Death should scatter poppy-dust + Across my path tonight, + Then wrap me in his cold, dark cloak, + And shut me from the light. + + If he should point a strange, still way, + How could I bear to go, + And never feel again the sun, + Nor watch a primrose grow? + + + + +THE MESSENGER + + + When you walk a lonely road, + Hand in hand with pain, + Do you see the broken leaves, + Trodden by the rain? + + My heart was like a folded leaf, + On an April tree; + Listen to the rain at night, + And know your hurt to me. + + + + +“NEEDLES AND PINS” + + + Goblins came and took me + Long ago, + Tossed me up and down the years, + To and fro. + + Drove me to surrender + All my faith, + And chuckled when they bound me + To a wraith. + + But came a time the goblins + Lost their zest + For planting stones within my heart, + As a jest. + + They left me in the garden + With the weeds, + And there I found my faith again, + Sowing seeds. + + + + +TO JUNE + + + June dreams. + The twilight world’s a-hush, + The meadows flame with colors from a master’s brush, + And in my garden roses droop and blush; + June sleeps and dreams. + + The singing wind blows gently through her sleep, + While friendly, fragrant shadows keep + Their vigils, beautiful and deep, + With June, who dreams. + + Communion with my watching heart I hold, + Until the day comes to unfold + Her laughing hours, steeped in gold, + For June, who dreams. + + + + +TO CONGDON + + + When I look among the shadows in my soul, + I am glad for every scar and sin; + (Oh, little child, upon the threshold of my heart, Stay within!) + + I will mould to golden-tinted globes of pearl, + My rebellion, with each bruising shame, + And kindled from my dark, their light will keep your dreams + Star-frost and flame. + + Then I will mend all broken songs of mine, + To thread them on a many-colored string, + That you may count them, as you lean against my heart, + And learn to sing. + + + + +Transcriber’s Notes + + • Italics represented with surrounding _underscores_. + + • Small caps converted to ALL CAPS. + + • Obvious typographic errors silently corrected. + + • Footnote numbered and consolidated to the end of the relevant poem. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77093 *** |