 | The poems of Trumbull Stickney |  |
283
VI
FRAGMENTS
287
[I
The Autumn's done; they have the golden corn in]
The Autumn's done; they have the golden corn in
Clover and fern from either slope are gone,
The peaks high up in the crystalline morning
Glister of gray and roan.
Clover and fern from either slope are gone,
The peaks high up in the crystalline morning
Glister of gray and roan.
These pitiless two hours of midday hotter
Than from the --- of a furnace, flare
The very shadows like a sunken water,
Leaving but sunlight there,
Than from the --- of a furnace, flare
The very shadows like a sunken water,
Leaving but sunlight there,
Till eve: and in the valley that expires
A quick chill wind seizes the duskiness,
While, on the summits lighting, sunset fires
Kindle in Sorapis.
A quick chill wind seizes the duskiness,
While, on the summits lighting, sunset fires
Kindle in Sorapis.
One of these days I know, just as they sadden
Spangling awhile the rose and yellow sky,
You'll go away and watch the country gladden
Softly to Italy.
Spangling awhile the rose and yellow sky,
You'll go away and watch the country gladden
Softly to Italy.
There, take this ring of gold—and when your fancy
Glides by to songs under the autumn moon
Where like unfurling silks of necromancy
Lies out the white lagoon,
Glides by to songs under the autumn moon
Where like unfurling silks of necromancy
Lies out the white lagoon,
Throw it away, that it be mine no longer.
Italian, give it back to Italy,
I will not have thy Past about me stronger
Than what is yet to be.
Italian, give it back to Italy,
288
Than what is yet to be.
Nay, hurry home to sleep. The ferns are rigid
With hoar, and dark and denser hangs the mist;
It freezes and the stars quaver in frigid
Heaven of amethyst.
With hoar, and dark and denser hangs the mist;
It freezes and the stars quaver in frigid
Heaven of amethyst.
Down thro' San Vito and the land Cadore,
To which—when closed the pestered city gate—
The dying Titian strained, homeward from glory,
Home from eternal fate;
To which—when closed the pestered city gate—
The dying Titian strained, homeward from glory,
Home from eternal fate;
Down where the outlines have a softer meaning—
Willow and clematis, the fruit and grain;
And the last mountain height sinks greening
Into the golden plain,—
Willow and clematis, the fruit and grain;
And the last mountain height sinks greening
Into the golden plain,—
To Venice. There the October days purpureal
Fall down to earth from Heaven wearily,—
And wounded at the last, insatiate Uriel
Dies on the flaming sea.—
Fall down to earth from Heaven wearily,—
And wounded at the last, insatiate Uriel
Dies on the flaming sea.—
One of these days you'll leave me in the mountains,
For I go Northward, not to see this year
Gold Italy and her wind-silvered plantains,
But there the sad and sere—
For I go Northward, not to see this year
Gold Italy and her wind-silvered plantains,
But there the sad and sere—
I go elsewhere. ...
289
[II
She sat under the naked bough]
She sat under the naked bough
In an autumn moon's sharp shade,
Her two hands clasped about her knee,
And not a move she made.
On crisp, dead leaves I walked to her
And said, “Thou art the Morrow's Norn,
And “Verily” she answered me,
Lifting her eyes forlorn.
Then with a slow and solemn sign
I said “Be mine.”
In an autumn moon's sharp shade,
Her two hands clasped about her knee,
And not a move she made.
On crisp, dead leaves I walked to her
And said, “Thou art the Morrow's Norn,
And “Verily” she answered me,
Lifting her eyes forlorn.
Then with a slow and solemn sign
I said “Be mine.”
She shook her head, but her rimey hair
Spread not upon the wind.
And it froze me so to see her there,
Till my own chilled heart grew kind;
I touched her shoulder hard as stone,
I pressed my hot lips to her eye,
And wrapt my cloak about her, soft
With a heart-warm sigh,
Saying again with many a sign
“Be ever mine.”
Spread not upon the wind.
And it froze me so to see her there,
Till my own chilled heart grew kind;
I touched her shoulder hard as stone,
I pressed my hot lips to her eye,
And wrapt my cloak about her, soft
With a heart-warm sigh,
Saying again with many a sign
“Be ever mine.”
She looked as when the spark goes out
In ashes that all are dead.
I left her, over the crisp dead leaves
And quicklier too I sped,
For I heard as out of a fold of wind
While the white moon stood above the line
'Mid shadows moved like creeping coils
Of a poisoned ivy vine,
I heard ...
In ashes that all are dead.
I left her, over the crisp dead leaves
And quicklier too I sped,
290
While the white moon stood above the line
'Mid shadows moved like creeping coils
Of a poisoned ivy vine,
I heard ...
[1895–96]
291
III
FRAGMENT OF AN ODE FOR GREEK LIBERTY
[OMITTED]
Your enemy like startled fowl flies forth.
Your enemy like startled fowl flies forth.
Not by nice reckoning
Of chance and odd,
Nor martyrdom of meek repose
Is reft from God
The Laurel and the Rose.
Nor matters it to bring
Trophies home and a victor rod
With blare of trumpets and caparison:
It needs not to have won
To be great.
But the exulting soul
Which strides alone against the sun,
By his own passion hurled
And slave to his desire's supreme control
Is master of the world.
Of chance and odd,
Nor martyrdom of meek repose
Is reft from God
The Laurel and the Rose.
Nor matters it to bring
Trophies home and a victor rod
With blare of trumpets and caparison:
It needs not to have won
To be great.
But the exulting soul
Which strides alone against the sun,
By his own passion hurled
And slave to his desire's supreme control
Is master of the world.
Go out! To horse! Once more
As ye were first—
For they have sold
All, bartered all, better and best,
And to their richest guest,
When the bargain 's o'er
And they the counted utmost hold,
They let out Liberty like any whore.—
As ye were first—
For they have sold
All, bartered all, better and best,
And to their richest guest,
When the bargain 's o'er
292
They let out Liberty like any whore.—
Brahma or Assur, Allah, Christ or Zeus,
Or what strange name beside,
Who is this God our sacrifice pursues?
A shadow unrevealed
Behind the circled sun he stands,
Muffled in everlasting pride,—
While with uplifted hands,
Tho' harvests, hills and strands
Frittered with use,
The endless earth in ecstasy has kneeled.
Who is this God our prayer pursues?
Down the big night of time,
On wings of ancient wind
The gray smoke from a thousand altars rolls,
And anthems cried by choired souls
Immeasurably combined
Crowd in the sky sublime.—
Who is he? where? and may he be divined?
And shall this ænigmatic Justice wake
Upon their dreary end,
Reckoning retribution for their pangs?
Shall he beat heaven till it bend,
And in this nation's fangs
His barbed spear of yellow lightning break?—
Or must their piteous wrong
Of slaughtered men, women befouled
And nurslings trampled in the mire,
Hurl its terrific song,
The crying measure of a last desire?—
And get no more than when the dying lion growled
Or what strange name beside,
Who is this God our sacrifice pursues?
A shadow unrevealed
Behind the circled sun he stands,
Muffled in everlasting pride,—
While with uplifted hands,
Tho' harvests, hills and strands
Frittered with use,
The endless earth in ecstasy has kneeled.
Who is this God our prayer pursues?
Down the big night of time,
On wings of ancient wind
The gray smoke from a thousand altars rolls,
And anthems cried by choired souls
Immeasurably combined
Crowd in the sky sublime.—
Who is he? where? and may he be divined?
And shall this ænigmatic Justice wake
Upon their dreary end,
Reckoning retribution for their pangs?
Shall he beat heaven till it bend,
And in this nation's fangs
His barbed spear of yellow lightning break?—
Or must their piteous wrong
Of slaughtered men, women befouled
293
Hurl its terrific song,
The crying measure of a last desire?—
And get no more than when the dying lion growled
Aye, should he rise,
The master shrouded in our prayer,
Girding his sacred loins
About the vengeance that this world denies,
He would change our air
To golden sulphur solid as the sun,
And rend the planet's groins
With his curse,
Till down the universe
Made vagabond,
Shattered and fragmentary and undone,
The frail flame-wingèd embers should rehearse
Our cataclysm to the great stars beyond.
The master shrouded in our prayer,
Girding his sacred loins
About the vengeance that this world denies,
He would change our air
To golden sulphur solid as the sun,
And rend the planet's groins
With his curse,
Till down the universe
Made vagabond,
Shattered and fragmentary and undone,
The frail flame-wingèd embers should rehearse
Our cataclysm to the great stars beyond.
He shall not rise. Let hope in veils of pall
This widely crimson morning close;
The supreme warriors fall
Where virtue first arose.
Let no one weep the happy to repose
[OMITTED]
This widely crimson morning close;
The supreme warriors fall
Where virtue first arose.
Let no one weep the happy to repose
[OMITTED]
[1897]
294
[IV
My Ludovico, it is sad]
My Ludovico, it is sad!
You 've caused your artist's soul to die.
You 've starved the very heart. And why?
It was no common heart you had.
You 've caused your artist's soul to die.
You 've starved the very heart. And why?
It was no common heart you had.
I don't say you were born above
A world of worlds; to sit and scan
In majesty Shakespearian
The man of generations move.
A world of worlds; to sit and scan
In majesty Shakespearian
The man of generations move.
I don't say you were genius. No!
But from your tender lips would fall
Delicious things, and I recall
One song that set my cheeks aglow.
But from your tender lips would fall
Delicious things, and I recall
One song that set my cheeks aglow.
Why starve it?—What, pray, have you won?
You, quick and subtle analyst,
Would take the dearest flower and twist
Its stem, and watch the juices run.
You, quick and subtle analyst,
Would take the dearest flower and twist
Its stem, and watch the juices run.
I know we all are such, of course.
It took some thousand thousand years
To make a race that liked its tears
And whetted the edges of remorse.
It took some thousand thousand years
To make a race that liked its tears
And whetted the edges of remorse.
But you, with such a soul to sing,
A large and blue and quiet eye!
I love you very little—I
Who thought you prophet, priest and king.
A large and blue and quiet eye!
295
Who thought you prophet, priest and king.
I wonder. Will the old world wake?
Are we the people of the end?
And shall the coming poets tend
[OMITTED]
Are we the people of the end?
And shall the coming poets tend
[OMITTED]
[V
The weakened eyes regain their sight]
The weakened eyes regain their sight,The fevered pulse grows slow and sure,
Oh night, on thy sweet breast secure,
My head is laid, is laid, oh night!
[VI
And I stood ringed about with marble dreams]
And I stood ringed about with marble dreams,Motionless, white, but fashioned of thin shift,
Silvery and lovely. Many a man was there,
In feature perfect, and in posture calm,
And all touched by the wand of harmony,
Speaking from still lips memorable things.
The light was dusk spun by the wizard hand
Of evening from her distaff; and the air attuned
With notes that lute-string never bare, nor viol
Rendered to ease its heart. And thro' the land
Swept the slow measure of a solemn wind,
296
In voice distant and rhythmic told of powers
Coiled in eternal slumber; far away
Mounted and fell beneath the stooping heaven
The hills, cadenced, subdued or sweetly plane,
Yet most majestic, tempered with the soul
Of age, nature, infinitude and sleep.
And set alone in azure, like a tear
Fallen in the veil of evening, silver pure,
One star!
[VII
'T is said that hearts are won, at length]
'T is said that hearts are won, at length!The glory is when hearts are lost.
One loves once with a single strength,
Or idly, cunningly almost.
[VIII
We learn by suffering and we teach by pity]
We learn by suffering and we teach by pity.[IX
I hear a river thro' the valley wander]
I hear a river thro' the valley wanderWhose water runs, the song alone remaining.
A rainbow stands and summer passes under.
297
[X
Nay, take it all in all, the human sort]
Nay, take it all in all, the human sortAs well were sleeping as awake; they use
Their small facility of common things,
Assume the habit of their errors, and
Believe their eyes and ears, like animals.
[XI
The passions that we fought with and subdued]
The passions that we fought with and subduedNever quite die. In some maimed serpent's coil
They lurk, ready to spring and vindicate
That power was once our torture and our lord.
[XII
As one who loving beyond words will bring]
As one who loving beyond words will bringThe hue and perfumes of a common rose
And trust a meadow's language to disclose
The true simplicity of offering;
Then, as he mutely gives his little, spring
Obscure slow tears that she who studies knows
Till in some deeper knowledge both repose
And the old flower is now a useless thing.
So ...
298
[XIII
Teased by the burden of this little sky]
[OMITTED]
Teased by the burden of this little sky,
Struggled and breaking thro' the azure dome
Emerged, and looked upon the world of God.
[XIV
If with my life I lifted from thy head]
If with my life I lifted from thy headEver so little a while thy crown of thorn,
And thou not sadly in thy hair hast worn
These daisies of my trembling spirit bred;
If, while I huddled back thy dreadful dead,
Thou 'st happier listened to the birds at morn,
I render sacred thanks to have been born,
O my Madonna, dear and hallowèd.
'T is in my soul like midnight and high tide ...
[XV
The immortal mixes with mortality]
The immortal mixes with mortality.The stars are drossed with sod, and yonder moon
Which loved too long the dead Endymion,
As any tiger-lily's petal, now
Drops away, down the purple airs of night.—
299
An earth less arrogant, and higher hills.
Then rattled thunders from a thousand points;
Night, suns, morning and wind; the criss-cross
Of eagles in delirious passage cast
Small shadows on the tempest-hunted cloud.
And there were noises from untravelled shores.
Now nature fills with waning. One by one
Monster and centaur die, and weakening
The lungs of Typhon lift a feeble smoke
From horny-mantled craters by the sea.
Alas! and we! indeed we somehow pass
Within a fatal evening of ourselves.
I feel a time-like tremor in my limbs.
I know my beauty, and I understand
Pleasure, to-morrow, yesterday, and love.—
O had I one like him to gladden me.
Yet would I be alone, for in my breasts
I do believe the milk is not again.
300
XVI
FRAGMENT OF A DRAMA CALLED “THE CARDINAL PLAY”
ANGELO.You're paler than your wont, my Lord. I pray
Your sorrows for the church—
CARDINAL.
I 've other thoughts
To-day, my son. You'll listen. Are we heard?
ANG.
Alone.
CARD.
The jeweller Veri had in 's care—
Pray listen, for I'm tired—a pretty girl,
Clean of our dirty age and marvellous
In beauty, body, soul and maidenhood.
To-day 's a week, he quit his workshop, came
To bring me an ordered figure silver-carved
I'd need of. 'T was some hour, I'd say two hours
After the sunset. And, waiting to hear
My approval of the long-belaboured work,
He stayed awhile. But wandering home he found
A window burst, and apprehending some
Great loss of metals and I know not what,
He rushed within—all safe—except—except
Calling Lucia—that 's the girl's name—she
Made not a sound of answer. Breaking in
He finds her—gone—robbed—O my son—I say
She 'd flown—and lay the bitter question—where?
ANG.
I fear, my Lord—
301
I've more to say. He
Two long days passed, to acquaint me. Me he came,
For being professed protector of his work
And knowing the noblemen who play such tricks
Upon the—on peasant women—or I'd say
On those below them. You, my son, are young
And pass your youth among them. Here's my [illeg.]
You'll find what villain—casually you'll search
And ask, as speaking of indifferent things—
You'll find me out this man, avenge me—
ANG.
Venge you, my Lord?
CARD.
Me, yes, as shielding Veri.
ANG.
My wits are dull, your pardon. Truth to say
I had not thought to pay a jeweller's bills,
And hold all Roman maidenheads in trust.
Upon my word.
CARD.
My son, it suits you ill
To refuse me.
ANG.
Your Grace be kind! Howe'er
You'll grant it 's odd for Roman gentlemen
To fight a tradesman's duels.
CARD.
I've said my wish
Be pleased, consider all your life is mine,
Your state and rank, your fortune—
ANG.
Sir, enough!
The story 's this: one happy day you found
A woman—noble, fair, we'll say, who liked
I speak with reverence—you and all you were
So things begin. The season comes, the day,
302
With all one loves one great rich single time.
I'm brief: the lady was my mother, you
My father, and God's obscured will was done.
We grow, we beings of your happiness,
Goaded to life, and clothed and dressed and wrapped
In the disease of long mortality.
We breathe and grow: the cruel frequency
Of year and hour is on us, and we learn
Our birth was precious—but, well, casual.
Yet we live on, and on necessity's
Stern heart lay our ununderstanding heads.
And we live on. Then comes a day, you 've thought
At such time such a thing should so be done,—
If not, you hound us out. Now, hear me God,
It 's passing strange. A slave is fairly bought
And cudgelled if the bargain 's bad,—so far
So good. But I, not bought, but wholly made
Out of your pleasure, fact and monument
Of your caprice, a thing you hazarded
On the big gaming table of the world,
And now,—why after all, say you, it 's mine,
And let it work to please me.—My respect,
Your Eminence, dies poisoned by the truth.
For this, despoil me as you will, my sword
Is mine, my honour's mine, and mine my life.
I'll fight no jeweller's fight, that 's flat, nor earn
A busy quarrel-monger's name. I've said.
CARD.
You press me hard, for one who long was kind,
303
Fortune and fame would warrant—yet of that
Enough.
[Coldly.]
I came to order and I sue:
Your sword is my defence. Hear me again,
My son, for I had interest in—
ANG.
Interest?
CARD.
I say, the girl—
ANG.
You loved the girl?
CARD.
She was my—
ANG.
What?
CARD.
My—ward.
ANG.
Ward, loved your ward!
Christ and the Saints, how hideous!
[He laughs fiercely and long and sinks into a chair.]
I had thought
A scarlet Cardinal with silver hair
Had made his peace with lust—
CARD.
Villain, be still
Or I'll tear out thy tongue. She was—Ah God—
She was my daughter.
[A long pause. ANGELO passes his hand over his forehead and seems stupefied and shakes his head.]
ANG.
Wait—no—I cannot—what you said—
You spoke—
CARD.
Well, sir,—
ANG.
[frantic].
No, no, I'll not believe't.
304
I say, no. It's to spur me finely on,
To move my stubborn temper. But the lie 's
Too thick, too simple.
CARD.
[calling].
Luigi!
ANG.
Why, it's plain
The thing could never be,—the beasts abhor—
Oh, loathsome ghost, away!
[LUIGI and FRASCATI enter. ANGELO still mumbles away.]
CARD.
[trembling with suppressed anger.]
The tender fool
Will not believe she is my daughter—
[FRASCATI shudders.]
LUIGI.
Good sir, be calm; as I am old and sad
She is your sister.
ANG.
[cries wildly].
Ah! Ah! Aches of the damned,
Flames of the ugly place, tremendous pain
And everlasting anguish, take my soul.
Old man, thou art a fool—she is my heart,
My life. I robbed her, kissed her, loved her, I—
And planned eternal peace upon her breast,
And wove her garments of mine ecstasies
And made her girdle of mine arms. I say
We drank one only cup, and eat together,—
We made a world—and—and—Ah, both you lie,
And came to cheat my single happiness,
[LUCIA comes in.]
My only years in all this dreary light—
305
When like a broken bird within her hand
I lay, she giving me back melody,
And turning nightingale she too with me
Rose thro' the violet night singing, singing,
Over the moon-beloved and perfumed fields.
[He turns to LUIGI, with a broken voice
You are too old to stab me with a lie—
[With terrible anxiety.]
Tell me, kind old Luigi– tell me, now;
You see, I'm wretched as a worm half crushed—
Be true—For God's sake, speak the truth ...
[LUIGI turns away in tears]
Well then, it is!
Angel of Destiny, I felt thy feathers pass
Upon my brow and heard thy clapping wing
Longer ago than memory or life.
Take me away.
[He stabs himself]
Lucia, where art thou?
[He dies]
[1897]
306
SHORTER FRAGMENTS FROM “THE CARDINAL PLAY”
I
ANGELOI would I had thee like a drop of dew
That falls from heaven without history.
II
FRASCATIOh, mine Angelo,
These things creep out by every finger tip;
A footprint tells the tale. And women's love
Is noisy with perpetual echo; for they cry
In upper chambers whence the filtering sound
Grows tell-tale to the world; and next they write
Love-letters that go most directly wrong.
III
ANGELOWe spend a playful youth to find at last
A woman saviour of ourselves. I 've found.
And in my iron arms the surge can beat
Importunate and long. I shall not yield.
I loved her as in play: I love her now
With the great steady need of all a soul.
307
IV
LUCIA[Singing at her window]
Ask me my all with a look of thine eyes.
A blush replies,
Yes.
Heart and whatever soever be mine,
Not less
Is thine.
Thou art sunflooded and infinite sky
And I
A little star lost far away
Down the day.
[Singing as she descends]
A blush replies,
Yes.
Heart and whatever soever be mine,
Not less
Is thine.
Thou art sunflooded and infinite sky
And I
A little star lost far away
Down the day.
Thou art the branches unwindily stirred,
I, a bird
Who tire from seas of the west
To thy breast.
I, a bird
Who tire from seas of the west
To thy breast.
V
LUCIAA parting, now!
To part! why, yes. But what 's in parting?
In such small separation as we plan
To fit our chances? what 's in leaving? Time.
308
And Pain is death. O let us wholly die
Who lived too wildly—
ANGELO
So said I, Lucia,
Were 't not that one may roundly crawl about
The moving camps of Destiny, and build
Behind her passage fortresses of peace
To harbour life in.
309
XVII
“DRAMATIC FRAGMENTS
[1904]
I
I used to thinkThe mind essential in the body, even
As stood the body essential in the mind:
Two inseparable things, by nature equal
And similar, and in creation's song
Halving the total scale: it is not so.
Unlike and cross like driftwood sticks they come
Churned in the giddy trough: a chunk of pine
A slab of rosewood: mangled each on each
With knocks and friction, or in deadly pain
Sheathing each other's splinters: till at last
Without all stuff or shape they 're jetted up
Where in the bluish moisture rot whate'er
Was vomited in horror from the sea.
310
II
BLINDNESS AND DEAFNESS
[Enter X, who learns the dispute and says]
You waste good time.
More philosophic much it were to ask
By speculation or experiment
What midget skims the void of that man
Who being all these together: deaf, dumb, blind,
Yet must within himself, as, sepulchred
'Mid rings of brazen crenellation down
Under tremendous towers, the heart of Cain,
Be alive.
III
THE SOUL OF TIME
Time's a circumference
Whereof the segment of our station seems
A long straight line from nothing into naught.
Therefore we say “progress,” “infinity”—
Dull words whose object
Hangs in the air of error and delights
Our boyish minds ahunt for butterflies.
For aspiration studies not the sky
But looks for stars; the victories of faith
Are soldiered none the less with certainties,
And all the multitudinous armies decked
With banners blown ahead and flute before
March not to the desert or th' Elysian fields,
But in the track of some discovery,
The grip and cognizance of something true,
Which won resolves a better distribution
Between the dreaming mind and real truth.
Whereof the segment of our station seems
A long straight line from nothing into naught.
Therefore we say “progress,” “infinity”—
Dull words whose object
Hangs in the air of error and delights
Our boyish minds ahunt for butterflies.
For aspiration studies not the sky
But looks for stars; the victories of faith
311
And all the multitudinous armies decked
With banners blown ahead and flute before
March not to the desert or th' Elysian fields,
But in the track of some discovery,
The grip and cognizance of something true,
Which won resolves a better distribution
Between the dreaming mind and real truth.
I cannot understand you.
'T is because
You lean over my meaning's edge and feel
A dizziness of the things I have not said.
You lean over my meaning's edge and feel
A dizziness of the things I have not said.
IV
Be patient, very patient; for the skiesWithin my human soul now sunset-flushed
Break desperate magic on the world I knew,
And in the crimson evening flying down
Bell-sounds and birds of ancient ecstasy
Most wonderfully carol one time more.
312
V
Sir, say no more.Within me 't is as if
The green and climbing eyesight of a cat
Crawled near my mind's poor birds.
| The poems of Trumbull Stickney | |