 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
A SOUL'S ANTIPHON.
I.
MY soul burst forth in singing,
My heart flowered like a rose;
Chimes of sweet songs fled ringing
Along the forest close.
Is it the new year springing?
Is it the May that blows?
No; it was none of those.
My heart flowered like a rose;
Chimes of sweet songs fled ringing
Along the forest close.
Is it the new year springing?
Is it the May that blows?
No; it was none of those.
Among the trees came flying
A spirit like a flame;
A sound of songs and sighing,
Mixed, round his presence came;
A sound of soft airs dying,
The music of a name,
Fainting for its sweet shame.
A spirit like a flame;
A sound of songs and sighing,
Mixed, round his presence came;
A sound of soft airs dying,
The music of a name,
Fainting for its sweet shame.
A white shape wreathed with flowers,
A winged shape like a dove;
Hands soft as peach-bloom showers;
Eyes like an orange-grove
In whose enchanted bowers
The magic fire-flies rove:
I knew his name;—'twas Love.
A winged shape like a dove;
Hands soft as peach-bloom showers;
Eyes like an orange-grove
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The magic fire-flies rove:
I knew his name;—'twas Love.
‘O soul!’ I said, ‘the voices
That flutter in thy breast,
The yearning that rejoices
In its own vague unrest,
Are all in vain: the choice is
'Twixt Life's and Love's behest.
Choose now, which is the best.’
That flutter in thy breast,
The yearning that rejoices
In its own vague unrest,
Are all in vain: the choice is
'Twixt Life's and Love's behest.
Choose now, which is the best.’
The winged white Love came calling,
With words like linnet-lays,
When hawthorn-snows are falling
About the forest ways.
His speech was so enthralling,
Such spells were in his gaze,
My heart flowered with his praise.
With words like linnet-lays,
When hawthorn-snows are falling
About the forest ways.
His speech was so enthralling,
Such spells were in his gaze,
My heart flowered with his praise.
He came to me with kisses
And looked into mine eyes;
My soul brimmed up with blisses;
But with the bliss came sighs,
As when a serpent hisses
Beneath flower-tapestries
And moss piled cushion-wise.
And looked into mine eyes;
My soul brimmed up with blisses;
But with the bliss came sighs,
As when a serpent hisses
Beneath flower-tapestries
And moss piled cushion-wise.
The sad old thoughts came flocking
Up to that look of his:
For memory and its mocking,
I could not smile, ywis;
It was as the unlocking
Of doors on an abyss
Wherein old living is.
Up to that look of his:
For memory and its mocking,
I could not smile, ywis;
It was as the unlocking
Of doors on an abyss
Wherein old living is.
It was like grief recounting
The happy times of yore;
It was like gray waves mounting
A lost sun-golden shore,
Like sad thoughts over-counting
The sweet things gone before,
The days that are no more.
The happy times of yore;
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A lost sun-golden shore,
Like sad thoughts over-counting
The sweet things gone before,
The days that are no more.
And as I looked with sighing
Into the sweet shape's eyes,
I saw a serpent lying
'Mid balms of Paradise;
I knew my dole undying,
The presage sad and wise,
The worm that never dies.
Into the sweet shape's eyes,
I saw a serpent lying
'Mid balms of Paradise;
I knew my dole undying,
The presage sad and wise,
The worm that never dies.
Love laughed and fled, a-leaping,
Between the flower-flushed breres,
And left my sad thoughts keeping
The vigil of the years:
My soul burst out in weeping;
I saw my hopes and fears
Troop by, embalmed in tears.
Between the flower-flushed breres,
And left my sad thoughts keeping
The vigil of the years:
My soul burst out in weeping;
I saw my hopes and fears
Troop by, embalmed in tears.
II.
My soul burst forth in weeping,
My heart swelled like a sea;
There came sad wind-notes sweeping
Across the golden lea:
Is autumn past, and reaping?
Is winter come for me?
No, no, it cannot be.
My heart swelled like a sea;
There came sad wind-notes sweeping
Across the golden lea:
Is autumn past, and reaping?
Is winter come for me?
No, no, it cannot be.
Among the trees came slowly
A spirit like a flower,
A lily pale and holy,
White as a winter hour:
Sad peace possessed him wholly;
Around him, like a sower,
He cast a silver shower;
A spirit like a flower,
A lily pale and holy,
White as a winter hour:
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Around him, like a sower,
He cast a silver shower;
A shower of silver lilies,
Each one a haunting thought:
It was as when a rill is
Across waste rose-bowers brought
And all the heart's grief still is
And one has pain in nought:
Such peace their perfumes wrought.
Each one a haunting thought:
It was as when a rill is
Across waste rose-bowers brought
And all the heart's grief still is
And one has pain in nought:
Such peace their perfumes wrought.
‘O soul!’ I said, ‘the sadness
That is in this one's breath
Is sweeter than the madness
That round Love fluttereth:
This one shall bring heart's gladness
And balms of peace and faith;
For lo! his name is Death.’
That is in this one's breath
Is sweeter than the madness
That round Love fluttereth:
This one shall bring heart's gladness
And balms of peace and faith;
For lo! his name is Death.’
The pale sweet shape came strewing
Flower-tokens on the grass;
His face was the renewing
Of love in a dream-glass;
His speech was like bird-wooing,
When moonlight-shadows pass.
My soul sighed out, ‘Alas!’
Flower-tokens on the grass;
His face was the renewing
Of love in a dream-glass;
His speech was like bird-wooing,
When moonlight-shadows pass.
My soul sighed out, ‘Alas!’
He came to me with sighing,
My hand in his he took;
My soul wept nigh to dying,
For all his piteous look:
Yet in his eyes was lying
Peace, as of some still brook
Laid through a forest-nook.
My hand in his he took;
My soul wept nigh to dying,
For all his piteous look:
Yet in his eyes was lying
Peace, as of some still brook
Laid through a forest-nook.
The memories of past sorrow
Brimmed up mine eyes with tears;
I could not choose but borrow
Fresh grief from the waste years:
And yet some sweet to-morrow
Smiled through, as when rain clears
Off, and the sun appears.
Brimmed up mine eyes with tears;
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Fresh grief from the waste years:
And yet some sweet to-morrow
Smiled through, as when rain clears
Off, and the sun appears.
It was as if one, peering
Into a well of woe,
Saw all the shadow clearing
From the brown deeps below;
Saw sapphire skies appearing
And woods with moss aglow
And Spring in act to blow.
Into a well of woe,
Saw all the shadow clearing
From the brown deeps below;
Saw sapphire skies appearing
And woods with moss aglow
And Spring in act to blow.
With tearful looks, I, gazing
Into the sad shape's eyes,
Saw a new magic tracing
New lovely mysteries;
I saw new hope upraising
A new love-paradise
And clear moon-silvern skies.
Into the sad shape's eyes,
Saw a new magic tracing
New lovely mysteries;
I saw new hope upraising
A new love-paradise
And clear moon-silvern skies.
My soul fled forth in singing,
My heart flowered like a rose;
Death smiled, with sweet tears springing,
'Twixt smile and smile that rose.
His arms closed round me, clinging:
Peace came and clipt me close;
Peace, such as no love knows.
My heart flowered like a rose;
Death smiled, with sweet tears springing,
'Twixt smile and smile that rose.
His arms closed round me, clinging:
Peace came and clipt me close;
Peace, such as no love knows.
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |