 | The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd |  |
22
IN ARCADIA
TO L. S.
I think we shall keep for ever in the heart of us, you and I,
That first Arcadian evening, till the day we come to die.
That first Arcadian evening, till the day we come to die.
We had crossed from the rugged border, through the fierce Messenian hills,
And we came to the oak-wood pastures, to a ripple of mountain rills.
And we came to the oak-wood pastures, to a ripple of mountain rills.
The late noon waned to the eventide and the gathering in of flocks,
The shepherd called with his uncouth cries to the goats far up in the rocks;
The shepherd called with his uncouth cries to the goats far up in the rocks;
While the kids leaped down with their startled eyes, and paused for a drink at the spring,
As he strode along in his kilted pride, with the gait of a mountain king.
As he strode along in his kilted pride, with the gait of a mountain king.
23
The steep hills sloped to a narrow vale through willow and oak and pear,
To the gold-green sage on the further side, and the thyme that hung in the air;
To the gold-green sage on the further side, and the thyme that hung in the air;
The corn-plots waved in the hollow, and the planes were marvellous green,
Where the young nymph-haunted Neda was a luminous thread between.
Where the young nymph-haunted Neda was a luminous thread between.
The day went over the westward ridge too soon in the mountain world,
And the thousand frail sun-wearied convolvulus bells were furled.
And the thousand frail sun-wearied convolvulus bells were furled.
A turtle cooed on the farther side, and the scented air of the vale
Was quick with tremulous throbbing of the song of the nightingale.
Was quick with tremulous throbbing of the song of the nightingale.
A mist rose up from the waters and the stream-nymph veiled her charms,
Where the mountain clasped her closest in the grasp of his purple arms.
Where the mountain clasped her closest in the grasp of his purple arms.
24
It was red gold over the western peaks and pale in the Southern sky,
It was middle May in the full moon time, and the land was Arcady!
It was middle May in the full moon time, and the land was Arcady!
And the scent of the thyme and the song of the bird drew a calm down over the breast,
The stream ran by with a soothing voice, and the note of it all was rest.
The stream ran by with a soothing voice, and the note of it all was rest.
Ah, well with you, happy valleys, where the roar of the world is still,
Where the brain may pause in the battle of life, and the eyes may drink their fill!
Where the brain may pause in the battle of life, and the eyes may drink their fill!
And well with you, fair green isles, in your girdle of surf apart,
With never a rumour of march and change, Avalons of the weary heart!
With never a rumour of march and change, Avalons of the weary heart!
The sunset over those gilded hills was more than an earthly name,
The moon was brighter than glory, the stars seemed better than fame.
The moon was brighter than glory, the stars seemed better than fame.
25
And we, we shall keep I know in the heart of us, you and I,
That first Arcadian evening till the day we come to die.
That first Arcadian evening till the day we come to die.
| The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd | |