 | Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson |  |
IN ENGLAND
To Charles Furse.
Bright Hellas lies far hence,
Far the Sicilian sea:
But England's excellence
Is fair enough for me.
Far the Sicilian sea:
But England's excellence
Is fair enough for me.
I love and understand
One joy: with staff and scrip
To walk a wild west land,
The winds my fellowship.
One joy: with staff and scrip
To walk a wild west land,
The winds my fellowship.
For all the winds will blow,
Across a lonely face,
Rough wisdom, good to know:
An high and heartening grace.
Across a lonely face,
Rough wisdom, good to know:
An high and heartening grace.
Wind, on the open down!
Riding the wind, the moon:
From town to country town,
I go from noon to noon.
Riding the wind, the moon:
From town to country town,
I go from noon to noon.
39
Cities of ancient spires,
Glorious against high noon;
August at sunset fires;
Austere beneath the moon.
Glorious against high noon;
August at sunset fires;
Austere beneath the moon.
Old, rain-washed, red-roofed streets,
Fresh with the soft South-west:
Where dreaming memory meets
Brave men long since at rest.
Fresh with the soft South-west:
Where dreaming memory meets
Brave men long since at rest.
Evening, from out the green
Wet boughs of clustered lime,
Pours fragrance rich and keen,
Balming the stilly time.
Wet boughs of clustered lime,
Pours fragrance rich and keen,
Balming the stilly time.
Old ramparts, gray and stern;
But comely clothed upon
With wealth of moss and fern,
And scarlet snapdragon.
But comely clothed upon
With wealth of moss and fern,
And scarlet snapdragon.
Harbours of swaying masts,
Beneath the vesper star:
Each high-swung lantern casts
A quivering ray afar.
Beneath the vesper star:
Each high-swung lantern casts
A quivering ray afar.
From round the ancient quay,
Ring songs with rough refrains:
Strong music of the sea,
Chaunted in lusty strains.
Ring songs with rough refrains:
Strong music of the sea,
Chaunted in lusty strains.
Freshness of early spray,
Blown on me off the sea:
Morning breaks chilly gray,
And storm is like to be.
Blown on me off the sea:
Morning breaks chilly gray,
And storm is like to be.
40
A cliff of rent, black rock,
About whose stern height flies
The wrangling sea-gull flock,
With querulous, thin cries.
About whose stern height flies
The wrangling sea-gull flock,
With querulous, thin cries.
The sea-gulls' wrangling cry
Around the black cliff rings:
I watch them wheel and fly,
A snowstorm of white wings.
Around the black cliff rings:
I watch them wheel and fly,
A snowstorm of white wings.
With savoury blossoms graced,
A craggy, rusted height:
Where thrift and samphire taste
The sea and wind and light.
A craggy, rusted height:
Where thrift and samphire taste
The sea and wind and light.
A light prow plunges: red,
Red as the ruddy sand,
The tall sail fills: well sped,
The fair boat leaves the land.
Red as the ruddy sand,
The tall sail fills: well sped,
The fair boat leaves the land.
I wander with delight
Among the great sea gales:
Exulting in their might,
They thunder through the vales.
Among the great sea gales:
Exulting in their might,
They thunder through the vales.
Cries of the North-west wind,
Crying from roseless lands:
From countries cold and blind,
Hard seas and unsunned strands.
Crying from roseless lands:
From countries cold and blind,
Hard seas and unsunned strands.
A dark forest, where freeze
My very dreams: gaunt rows
Rise up, the forest trees;
Black, from a waste of snows.
My very dreams: gaunt rows
Rise up, the forest trees;
Black, from a waste of snows.
41
Long, fragrant pine tree bands,
Behind whose black, straight ranks
The dusky red sun stands,
On clouds in purple banks.
Behind whose black, straight ranks
The dusky red sun stands,
On clouds in purple banks.
In tree-tops the worn gale
Hangs, weakened to a sigh:
The rooks with sunrise hail
From out the tree-tops fly.
Hangs, weakened to a sigh:
The rooks with sunrise hail
From out the tree-tops fly.
A deep wood, where the air
Hangs in a stilly trance:
While on rich fernbanks fair
The sunlights flash and dance.
Hangs in a stilly trance:
While on rich fernbanks fair
The sunlights flash and dance.
I hear the woodland folks,
Each well-swung axe's blow:
And boughs of mighty oaks,
Murmuring to and fro.
Each well-swung axe's blow:
And boughs of mighty oaks,
Murmuring to and fro.
My step fills, as I go,
Shy rabbits with quick fears:
I see the sunlight glow
Red through their startled ears.
Shy rabbits with quick fears:
I see the sunlight glow
Red through their startled ears.
Mild, red-brown April woods,
When spring is in the air:
And a soft spirit broods
In patience, everywhere.
When spring is in the air:
And a soft spirit broods
In patience, everywhere.
Primroses fill the fields,
And birds' light matin cries:
The lingering darkness yields,
Before the sun's uprise.
And birds' light matin cries:
The lingering darkness yields,
Before the sun's uprise.
42
Deep meadows, white with dew,
Where faeries well may dance;
Or the quaint fawnskin crew,
Play in a red moon's glance.
Where faeries well may dance;
Or the quaint fawnskin crew,
Play in a red moon's glance.
Quivering poplar trees,
Silvered upon the wind:
In watermeads and leas,
With silver streams entwined.
Silvered upon the wind:
In watermeads and leas,
With silver streams entwined.
Waters in alder shade,
Where green lights break and gleam
Betwixt my fingers, laid
Upon the rippling stream.
Where green lights break and gleam
Betwixt my fingers, laid
Upon the rippling stream.
In merry prime of June,
Birds sun themselves and sing:
Mine heart beats to the tune;
The world is on the wing.
Birds sun themselves and sing:
Mine heart beats to the tune;
The world is on the wing.
The sun, golden and strong,
Leaps: and in flying choirs
The birds make morning song,
Across the morning fires.
Leaps: and in flying choirs
The birds make morning song,
Across the morning fires.
Old gardens, where long hours
But find me happier,
Beside the misty flowers
Of purple lavender.
But find me happier,
Beside the misty flowers
Of purple lavender.
Heaped with a sweet hayload,
Curved, yellow waggons pass
Slow down the high-hedged road;
I watch them from the grass:
Curved, yellow waggons pass
Slow down the high-hedged road;
I watch them from the grass:
43
A pleasant village noise
Breaks the still air: and all
The summer spirit joys,
Before the first leaves fall.
Breaks the still air: and all
The summer spirit joys,
Before the first leaves fall.
Red wreckage of the rose,
Over a gusty lawn:
While in the orchard close,
Fruits redden to their dawn.
Over a gusty lawn:
While in the orchard close,
Fruits redden to their dawn.
September's wintering air,
When fruits and flowers have fled
From mountain valleys bare,
Save rowan berries red.
When fruits and flowers have fled
From mountain valleys bare,
Save rowan berries red.
These joys, and such as these,
Are England's and are mine:
Within the English seas,
My days have been divine.
Are England's and are mine:
Within the English seas,
My days have been divine.
Oh! Hellas lies far hence,
Far the blue Sicel sea:
But England's excellence
Is more than they to me.
Far the blue Sicel sea:
But England's excellence
Is more than they to me.
1892.
| Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson | |