Wild honey from various thyme By Michael Field [i.e. K. H. Bradley and E. E. Cooper] |
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HALLS OF SUFFERING |
 | Wild honey from various thyme |  |
188
HALLS OF SUFFERING
I call along the Halls of Suffering!
Hark! down each aisle reverberated cries
Out of deep wounds, out of each fiery spring
Of nerve, or piteous anguish of surprise.
Hark! down each aisle reverberated cries
Out of deep wounds, out of each fiery spring
Of nerve, or piteous anguish of surprise.
And I must traverse these grand vaults to hear
The patter of thy feet, my little Chow,
Driven soft of frenzy on and on—the drear
And winter bee-note at thy striken brow.
The patter of thy feet, my little Chow,
Driven soft of frenzy on and on—the drear
And winter bee-note at thy striken brow.
Loud Halls, O Hades of the living! On!...
What, are the swarming little cries not heard!
What, are the lit, bright feet forever gone,
Or yet to swifter orbit they were stirred?
What, are the swarming little cries not heard!
What, are the lit, bright feet forever gone,
Or yet to swifter orbit they were stirred?
If I should wander on till time had close
Thee with thy shuffled paws I should not find:
No chasm, nor any heinous shadow knows
Thy haunt, nor may I fear thee left behind.
Thee with thy shuffled paws I should not find:
No chasm, nor any heinous shadow knows
Thy haunt, nor may I fear thee left behind.
189
Forth, Forth! Away! He is not of these Halls—
No motion of him there, Whym Chow, no sound:
His ruby head shall never strike their walls,
And nowhere by a cry shall he be found.
No motion of him there, Whym Chow, no sound:
His ruby head shall never strike their walls,
And nowhere by a cry shall he be found.
| Wild honey from various thyme | |