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XVI
THE VINES
TO ANDRÉ CHEVRILLON
[“Have you seen the listening snake?”]
“Have you seen the listening snake?”
Bramble clutches for his bride,
Lately she was by his side,
Woodbine, with her gummy hands.
Bramble clutches for his bride,
Lately she was by his side,
Woodbine, with her gummy hands.
In the ground the mottled snake
Listens for the dawn of day;
Listens, listening death away,
Till the day burst winter's bands.
Listens for the dawn of day;
Listens, listening death away,
Till the day burst winter's bands.
Painted ivy is asleep,
Stretched upon the bank, all torn,
Sinewy though she be; love-lorn
Convolvuluses cease to creep.
Stretched upon the bank, all torn,
Sinewy though she be; love-lorn
Convolvuluses cease to creep.
Bramble clutches for his bride,
Woodbine, with her gummy hands,
All his horny claws expands;
She has withered in his grasp.
Woodbine, with her gummy hands,
All his horny claws expands;
She has withered in his grasp.
“Till the day dawn, till the tide
Of the winter's afternoon.”
“Who tells dawning?”—“Listen, soon.”
Half-born tendrils, grasping, gasp.
Of the winter's afternoon.”
“Who tells dawning?”—“Listen, soon.”
Half-born tendrils, grasping, gasp.
XVII
[Did we not, Darling, you and I]
Je pleure dans les coins; je n' ai plus goût à rien;
Oh! j'ai tant pleuré, Dimanche, en mon paroissien!
JULES LAFORGUE
Oh! j'ai tant pleuré, Dimanche, en mon paroissien!
JULES LAFORGUE
Did we not, Darling, you and I,
Walk on the earth like other men?
Did we not walk and wonder why
They spat upon us so. And then
Walk on the earth like other men?
Did we not walk and wonder why
They spat upon us so. And then
We lay us down among fresh earth,
Sweet flowers breaking overhead,
Sore needed rest for our frail girth,
For our frail hearts; a well-sought bed.
Sweet flowers breaking overhead,
Sore needed rest for our frail girth,
For our frail hearts; a well-sought bed.
So Spring came, and spread daffodils;
Summer, and fluffy bees sang on;
The fluffy bee knows us, and fills
His house with sweet to think upon.
Summer, and fluffy bees sang on;
The fluffy bee knows us, and fills
His house with sweet to think upon.
Deep in the dear dust, Dear, we dream:
Our melancholy is a thing
At last our own; and none esteem
How our black lips are blackening.
Our melancholy is a thing
At last our own; and none esteem
How our black lips are blackening.
And none note how our poor eyes fall,
Nor how our cheeks are sunk and sere...
Dear, when you waken, will you call?...
Alas! we are not very near.
Nor how our cheeks are sunk and sere...
Dear, when you waken, will you call?...
Alas! we are not very near.
XVIII
[Lean back, and press the pillow deep]
Ainsi, elle viendrait à moi! les yeux bien fous!
Et elle me suivrait avec cet air partout!
Et elle me suivrait avec cet air partout!
TO E. M. G.
Lean back, and press the pillow deep,
Heart's dear demesne, dear Daintiness;
Close your tired eyes, but not to sleep....
How very pale your pallor is!
Heart's dear demesne, dear Daintiness;
Close your tired eyes, but not to sleep....
How very pale your pallor is!
You smile, your cheek's voluptuous line
Melts in your dimple's saucy cave.
Your hairbraids seem a wilful vine,
Scorning to imitate a wave.
Melts in your dimple's saucy cave.
Your hairbraids seem a wilful vine,
Scorning to imitate a wave.
Your voice is tenebrous, as if
An angel mocked a blackbird's pipe.
You are my magic orchard feoff,
Where bud and fruit are always ripe.
An angel mocked a blackbird's pipe.
You are my magic orchard feoff,
Where bud and fruit are always ripe.
O apple garden! all the days
Are fain to crown the darling year.
Ephemeral bells and garland bays,
Shy blade and lusty, bursting ear.
Are fain to crown the darling year.
Ephemeral bells and garland bays,
Shy blade and lusty, bursting ear.
In every kiss I call you mine,
Tell me, my dear, how pure, how brave
Our child will be! what velvet eyne,
What bonny hair our child will have!
Tell me, my dear, how pure, how brave
Our child will be! what velvet eyne,
What bonny hair our child will have!
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