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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
71
“A BROKEN RAINBOW ON THE SKIES OF MAY”
A broken rainbow on the skies of May,
Touching the dripping roses and low clouds,
And in wet clouds like scattered jewels lost:—
So in the sorrow of her soul the ghost
Of one great love, of iridescent ray,
Spanning the roses gray of memory,
Against the tumult of life's rushing crowds—
A broken rainbow on the skies of May.
Touching the dripping roses and low clouds,
And in wet clouds like scattered jewels lost:—
So in the sorrow of her soul the ghost
Of one great love, of iridescent ray,
Spanning the roses gray of memory,
Against the tumult of life's rushing crowds—
A broken rainbow on the skies of May.
A flashing humming-bird among the flowers,
Deep-colored blooms; its slender tongue and bill
Sucking the calyxed and the honeyed myrrhs,
Till, sick of sweets, to other flow'rs it whirrs:—
Such was his love that won her heart's full bowers
To yield to him their all, their sweets in showers,
The flower from which he drank his body's fill—
A flashing humming-bird among the flowers.
Deep-colored blooms; its slender tongue and bill
Sucking the calyxed and the honeyed myrrhs,
Till, sick of sweets, to other flow'rs it whirrs:—
Such was his love that won her heart's full bowers
To yield to him their all, their sweets in showers,
The flower from which he drank his body's fill—
A flashing humming-bird among the flowers.
72
A moon, moth-white, that through far mists, like fleece,
Moves amber-girt into a bulk of black,
And, lost to sight, rims all the black with froth:—
A love that swept its moon, like some great moth,
Across the heaven of her soul's young peace;
And, smoothly passing, in the clouds did cease
Of time, through which its burning light comes back—
A moon, moth-white, that moves through mists like fleece.
Moves amber-girt into a bulk of black,
And, lost to sight, rims all the black with froth:—
A love that swept its moon, like some great moth,
Across the heaven of her soul's young peace;
And, smoothly passing, in the clouds did cease
Of time, through which its burning light comes back—
A moon, moth-white, that moves through mists like fleece.
A bolt of living thunder downward hurled,
Momental blazing from the piled-up storm,
That etches out the mountains and the ocean,
The towering rocks, then blots the sight's commotion:—
Love, love that swiftly coming bared the world,
The deeps of life, round which fate's clouds are curled,
And, ceasing, left all night and black alarm—
A bolt of living thunder downward hurled.
Momental blazing from the piled-up storm,
That etches out the mountains and the ocean,
The towering rocks, then blots the sight's commotion:—
Love, love that swiftly coming bared the world,
The deeps of life, round which fate's clouds are curled,
And, ceasing, left all night and black alarm—
A bolt of living thunder downward hurled.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |