 | The Autumn Garden |  |
31
A Ballade of the Simple Life
Across the blushing willow-weed in spires
Of fulgent crimson barred with opal grains,
Lit by the ardent sunset's liquid fires
While life seemed mantling in his rosy veins—
The life of life that waxes not nor wanes,—
Courage came first, a javelin in his hand;
The light within his bold black eyes was fanned
By high disdain and ignorance of shame;
And like a bastion then I saw him stand,
A wholesome wood-boy with his cheeks on flame.
Of fulgent crimson barred with opal grains,
Lit by the ardent sunset's liquid fires
While life seemed mantling in his rosy veins—
The life of life that waxes not nor wanes,—
Courage came first, a javelin in his hand;
The light within his bold black eyes was fanned
By high disdain and ignorance of shame;
And like a bastion then I saw him stand,
A wholesome wood-boy with his cheeks on flame.
Then, swiftly, thro' a noise of leaves like lyres,
Unclouded by the weary fret that stains
Our jaded limbs; clean from all sick desires;
Bright as the tossing eglantine that chains
With fairy pink the odorous winding lanes,
Joy leapt to sight; his russet brow was tanned,
Where curls were clustered round, a laughing band;
Beating a lifted tambourine he came,
And flung it flaring upward like a brand,—
A wholesome wood-boy with his cheeks on flame.
Unclouded by the weary fret that stains
Our jaded limbs; clean from all sick desires;
Bright as the tossing eglantine that chains
With fairy pink the odorous winding lanes,
Joy leapt to sight; his russet brow was tanned,
Where curls were clustered round, a laughing band;
Beating a lifted tambourine he came,
And flung it flaring upward like a brand,—
A wholesome wood-boy with his cheeks on flame.
Then fell there silence on the adoring choirs
Of birds that celebrate their wedded pains;
The brushwood backward waved the elastic wires
With which its matted undergrowth restrains
The striving foot which little purchase gains,—
And Pity glided towards me. Soft as sand
The fading twilight smouldered in the bland
Loose clusters of his hair. I read his name
By sudden shining tears, through which I scanned
The wholesome wood-boy with his cheeks on flame.
Of birds that celebrate their wedded pains;
32
With which its matted undergrowth restrains
The striving foot which little purchase gains,—
And Pity glided towards me. Soft as sand
The fading twilight smouldered in the bland
Loose clusters of his hair. I read his name
By sudden shining tears, through which I scanned
The wholesome wood-boy with his cheeks on flame.
Envoi.
Prince, in the purer empire of our sires,Threefold the Power that purchased health and fame!
Now the loose web of useless effort tires
Our foolish heart that in a coil expires;
O to regain that age when, void of blame,
Courage and Joy and Pity were our squires,—
Three wholesome wood-boys with their cheeks on flame.
| The Autumn Garden | |