 | The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland |  |
57
Red Rose
Ροδα μ' ειρηκας
The red rose called to me,
“Be thou my Love;
Lo, I am fire and flame
For love of thee.”
“Be thou my Love;
Lo, I am fire and flame
For love of thee.”
I said to the red rose,
“It is in starry white,
With brows and breasts of snow,
That my Love goes.”
“It is in starry white,
With brows and breasts of snow,
That my Love goes.”
60
“Come to me, come to me,
I shall be excellence,
Softness and bloom and myrrh
And heavy sleep,” saith she.
I shall be excellence,
Softness and bloom and myrrh
And heavy sleep,” saith she.
“And I have doves, as of old,
My lips are crimson joy,
And my smiles are of light,
And my tears are of gold.”
My lips are crimson joy,
And my smiles are of light,
And my tears are of gold.”
61
“Three Kings rage at my door,
They would have love of me,
Till I look forth on them,
They are mean men and poor.
They would have love of me,
Till I look forth on them,
They are mean men and poor.
“In purple they go drest,
And bright gifts each King bears,
Come thou and be with us,
And I will love thee best.”
And bright gifts each King bears,
Come thou and be with us,
And I will love thee best.”
62
“There is a chamber lies
In the heart of my house,
Secret and sweet and dim,
Lit only with mine eyes.
In the heart of my house,
Secret and sweet and dim,
Lit only with mine eyes.
“We will burn spices there,
And we will say to Life,
‘Bring now for our delight
All that is good and fair.’”
And we will say to Life,
‘Bring now for our delight
All that is good and fair.’”
63
I said, “No Kings may wait
Against my white Love's door,
She hath no Love save one,
She needeth not such state.
Against my white Love's door,
She hath no Love save one,
She needeth not such state.
“Her chamber is of blue,
A gold lamp shines therein;
A lily and a babe
Are in her chamber too.”
A gold lamp shines therein;
A lily and a babe
Are in her chamber too.”
64
Red rose, red rose,
Oh, thou red rose!
I went into her house
Upon the slow day's close,
Oh, thou red rose!
I went into her house
Upon the slow day's close,
I lay down on her bed,
She smiled her smile of light,
She wept her tears of gold:
“Oh, thou red rose!” I said.
She smiled her smile of light,
She wept her tears of gold:
“Oh, thou red rose!” I said.
65
“Red rose, red rose,
Red rose and rose of mine,
Behold we are one soul,
With love for its repose.”
Red rose and rose of mine,
Behold we are one soul,
With love for its repose.”
She laughed, like one who sings,
Saying, “We are one soul.”
She thought of my white Love,
And I of those three Kings.
Saying, “We are one soul.”
She thought of my white Love,
And I of those three Kings.
66
She thought of those three Kings,
And I of my white Love:
A cold moon look'd at us,
Chill from a thousand springs.
And I of my white Love:
A cold moon look'd at us,
Chill from a thousand springs.
I said, “But we are one.”
She said, “Yea, we are one.”
We slept a lover's sleep
Until that moon was gone.
She said, “Yea, we are one.”
We slept a lover's sleep
Until that moon was gone.
67
At dawn she stirred and woke.
I said, “O red, red rose,
What of my little white Love?”
And never a word she spoke.
I said, “O red, red rose,
What of my little white Love?”
And never a word she spoke.
Before her mirror long
Stood she, and tired herself,
Her hair flamed in the sun,
Her laugh was like a song.
Stood she, and tired herself,
Her hair flamed in the sun,
Her laugh was like a song.
68
“The day is fair,” she said,
“We will ride forth,” said she,
“I on a milk-white horse,
Thou on a roan of red.
“We will ride forth,” said she,
“I on a milk-white horse,
Thou on a roan of red.
“The world is deck'd like a bride,
And sharp and sweet the air,
Those kings shall follow us,
Thou ridest at my side.”
And sharp and sweet the air,
Those kings shall follow us,
Thou ridest at my side.”
69
We rode forth into the dawn,
All a-glitter and shine,
Along the sleepy streets,
Past lodge and river and lawn,
All a-glitter and shine,
Along the sleepy streets,
Past lodge and river and lawn,
And fields that good men till;
And out by the western gate
I saw my little white Love
Simpling upon a hill.
And out by the western gate
I saw my little white Love
Simpling upon a hill.
70
I said, “Red rose, red rose,
Seest thou who is there?
It is my own white Love,
Mark with what grace she goes.”
Seest thou who is there?
It is my own white Love,
Mark with what grace she goes.”
“Pardie, pardie, good Sir,
Is it thy lady Love?
Then, if thou lovest me true,
Get down and speak with her.”
Is it thy lady Love?
Then, if thou lovest me true,
Get down and speak with her.”
71
She smiled her smile of light,
She pursed her crimson lips,
She let her hand touch mine,
Her eyes shone very bright.
She pursed her crimson lips,
She let her hand touch mine,
Her eyes shone very bright.
I said, “Red rose, I ween
That thou and I are as one,
I would not leave they side
An she were Mary Queen.”
That thou and I are as one,
I would not leave they side
An she were Mary Queen.”
72
So that we rode and came
Unto a fair green place;
She put her head on my breast,
And softly said my name.
Unto a fair green place;
She put her head on my breast,
And softly said my name.
Those three Kings stood apart,
Plotting my death they stood;
She took a jewelled knife,
And stabbed me in the heart.
Plotting my death they stood;
She took a jewelled knife,
And stabbed me in the heart.
73
And turned her milk-white steed,
And kissed me on the lips,
And laughed to those three Kings,
And left me there to bleed.
And kissed me on the lips,
And laughed to those three Kings,
And left me there to bleed.
And, with those Kings, did ride
Away in the sunshine:
I could not wish her hurt,
“O red, red rose,” I cried.
Away in the sunshine:
I could not wish her hurt,
“O red, red rose,” I cried.
74
Like torches in the sky
At night the stars awoke,
The ghost of me stood up
And ached exceedingly.
At night the stars awoke,
The ghost of me stood up
And ached exceedingly.
The world seemed full of shows:
I went to mine own door,
And look'd on my white Love,
And cried, “O red, red rose!”
I went to mine own door,
And look'd on my white Love,
And cried, “O red, red rose!”
75
Spring sitteth at her loom,
Weaving her green and gold,
The sweet lark sitteth in heaven,
And thou in thy red room!
Weaving her green and gold,
The sweet lark sitteth in heaven,
And thou in thy red room!
My white Love, still as a mouse,
Still and quiet and pale,
Sitteth beside her babe,
And thou in thy red house!
Still and quiet and pale,
Sitteth beside her babe,
And thou in thy red house!
1903
| The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland | |