 | Irish Poems |  |
44
THE WINTER GARDEN
To Lady Harrel
The Winter Garden lies at rest,
The clay upon her brows and breast,
The winding sheet drawn to her chin,
Her eyes blue the lids within.
The clay upon her brows and breast,
The winding sheet drawn to her chin,
Her eyes blue the lids within.
The Winter Garden grieved and pined,
Alone, out in the rain and wind,
Until she fell asleep, so pure
A quiet sleeper, still, demure.
Alone, out in the rain and wind,
Until she fell asleep, so pure
A quiet sleeper, still, demure.
They heaped her shroud with rose and myrtle.
Lilies, carnations strewed her kirtle;
Her kirtle of the green is on
Under the cere-cloth, straight and wan.
Lilies, carnations strewed her kirtle;
Her kirtle of the green is on
Under the cere-cloth, straight and wan.
Sleeping she hath within her arms
The wild songs and the soft charms.
The butterfly by her is laid,
The bee streaked in her chilly bed.
The wild songs and the soft charms.
The butterfly by her is laid,
The bee streaked in her chilly bed.
45
A day will come, a day and hour
Of a wild hope and a warm shower;
And a voice crying in bush and brake:
“The maid sleepeth: Daughter, awake.”
Of a wild hope and a warm shower;
And a voice crying in bush and brake:
“The maid sleepeth: Daughter, awake.”
The Winter Garden then will rise,
Cast the clay from mouth and eyes;
Her eyes will be the eyes of a bride,
The King's Daughter be glorified.
Cast the clay from mouth and eyes;
Her eyes will be the eyes of a bride,
The King's Daughter be glorified.
In her green kirtle she will show,
Scattering blossoms she will go:
She shall trip it on a green hill,
With the wind-flower and the daffodil.
Scattering blossoms she will go:
She shall trip it on a green hill,
With the wind-flower and the daffodil.
Alone—withouten leaf or bud,
What wild dreams stir in her blood?
Under her hood what dream of mirth
Of a new Heaven and a new earth?
What wild dreams stir in her blood?
Under her hood what dream of mirth
Of a new Heaven and a new earth?
| Irish Poems | |