 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
A DREAM OF JUNE
A splendid pageantry of sunset takes
The dreamer forth along this winding road,
What time the dew-fall in the roses makes,
Descending silently, its night abode;
What time the hedge-rose lifts a coral cup,
About the dew's cool treasure closing up.
Now sunset roses o'er the wintry way
Alone recall the rose of yesterday.
The dreamer forth along this winding road,
What time the dew-fall in the roses makes,
Descending silently, its night abode;
What time the hedge-rose lifts a coral cup,
About the dew's cool treasure closing up.
Now sunset roses o'er the wintry way
Alone recall the rose of yesterday.
With fragile petals delicate of hue—
The sweetest flower that in our country blooms—
This wayside rose, 'neath heaven's imperial blue,
Dispenses its ineffable perfumes,
While dying daylight's gold and scarlet flood
With sudden glory tinges leaf and bud.
The snow-drift quenches now the dying beam;
Rose and deep rose of sunset—both a dream.
The sweetest flower that in our country blooms—
This wayside rose, 'neath heaven's imperial blue,
Dispenses its ineffable perfumes,
While dying daylight's gold and scarlet flood
With sudden glory tinges leaf and bud.
The snow-drift quenches now the dying beam;
Rose and deep rose of sunset—both a dream.
28
O floral chalice, on the hedge so high,
May gentle rains, that soothe the thirsty land,
Refresh thy blossom from a gracious sky!
May thorns for ever from the rustic hand
Thine elfin beauties jealously defend,
And thy last petal to its latest end!
May dark December's bleak and dreary stress
Be soothed with memories of thy loveliness!
May gentle rains, that soothe the thirsty land,
Refresh thy blossom from a gracious sky!
May thorns for ever from the rustic hand
Thine elfin beauties jealously defend,
And thy last petal to its latest end!
May dark December's bleak and dreary stress
Be soothed with memories of thy loveliness!
May temper'd winds about thy spaces green
Breathe light in modulated music low!
May golden bees, when thy full bloom is seen,
Extract its mellow sweets to overflow
The deep recesses of their tree-built homes,
To fill with winter stores their honeycombs!
And in man's image-haunted hives of thought
Not all in vain may thy June sweets be sought!
Breathe light in modulated music low!
May golden bees, when thy full bloom is seen,
Extract its mellow sweets to overflow
The deep recesses of their tree-built homes,
To fill with winter stores their honeycombs!
And in man's image-haunted hives of thought
Not all in vain may thy June sweets be sought!
Those Ariel children, born of summer's bliss,
The moths that flit through fruitful fields beyond,
With wings of azure, where thy beauty is
For ever hover in a silence fond!
And, with deep rapture all the day long ringing,
May thy fair world ne'er want a lark's blithe singing!
The leaves of thought which thy sere petals hold
Shall echoes also of that song enfold.
The moths that flit through fruitful fields beyond,
With wings of azure, where thy beauty is
For ever hover in a silence fond!
And, with deep rapture all the day long ringing,
May thy fair world ne'er want a lark's blithe singing!
The leaves of thought which thy sere petals hold
Shall echoes also of that song enfold.
O may thy fabled love, the nightingale,
Through all night's calm and visionary space,
In glow-worm haunted thicket, or deep vale,
Abide at hand, musician of thy grace;
And all the senses of thy floral soul
With rapture ravish, by delight control!
Soft falls the snow from leaden lift above;
Soft in our hearts repose, O flower of love!
Through all night's calm and visionary space,
In glow-worm haunted thicket, or deep vale,
Abide at hand, musician of thy grace;
And all the senses of thy floral soul
With rapture ravish, by delight control!
Soft falls the snow from leaden lift above;
Soft in our hearts repose, O flower of love!
29
The poet's benediction dowers thee well—
Was that thy blush upon the western sky?
Was that thy beauty over field and fell
Investing all in gorgeous panoply?
Ah, when deep night envelops all things here,
Thy fragrance still proclaims that thou art near!
Still art thou with us under Christmas snows,
For us the Rose ne'er dies—long live the Rose!
Was that thy blush upon the western sky?
Was that thy beauty over field and fell
Investing all in gorgeous panoply?
Ah, when deep night envelops all things here,
Thy fragrance still proclaims that thou art near!
Still art thou with us under Christmas snows,
For us the Rose ne'er dies—long live the Rose!
The Rose and Rose, for evermore the Rose,
While days are dwindling towards the least of all
And every utterance sadly sets towards close;
The shadow of life itself has ceased to fall;
Ferment and sap of life no longer work;
All the quick light is still'd in shroud of murk:
Yet it is daylight shortly, torrid sun;
A thousand Roses in the place of one!
While days are dwindling towards the least of all
And every utterance sadly sets towards close;
The shadow of life itself has ceased to fall;
Ferment and sap of life no longer work;
All the quick light is still'd in shroud of murk:
Yet it is daylight shortly, torrid sun;
A thousand Roses in the place of one!
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |