 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
337
LYRICS.
LOVE'S LOST PLEASURE-HOUSE.
Love built for himself a Pleasure-House,—
A Pleasure-House fair to see:
The roof was gold, and the walls thereof
Were delicate ivory.
A Pleasure-House fair to see:
The roof was gold, and the walls thereof
Were delicate ivory.
Violet crystal the windows were,
All gleaming and fair to see;
Pillars of rose-stained marble up-bore
That house where men longed to be.
All gleaming and fair to see;
Pillars of rose-stained marble up-bore
That house where men longed to be.
Violet, golden, and white and rose,
That Pleasure-House fair to see
Did show to all; and they gave Love thanks
For work of such mastery.
That Pleasure-House fair to see
Did show to all; and they gave Love thanks
For work of such mastery.
Love turned away from his Pleasure-House,
And stood by the salt, deep sea:
He looked therein, and he flung therein
Of his treasure the only key.
And stood by the salt, deep sea:
He looked therein, and he flung therein
Of his treasure the only key.
Now never a man till time be done
That Pleasure-House fair to see
Shall fill with music and merriment,
Or praise it on bended knee.
That Pleasure-House fair to see
Shall fill with music and merriment,
Or praise it on bended knee.
338
LOVE'S LADY.
To-day, as when we sat together close,
A great wind wakes and thunders as it blows,—
We were together then beside the sea,
And now instead the sea between us flows.
A great wind wakes and thunders as it blows,—
We were together then beside the sea,
And now instead the sea between us flows.
O day that found us on that wind-swept coast,
And did such brave things for the future boast,—
Though in thy voice a note of warning was,—
This day, so like thee, seems thy very ghost!
And did such brave things for the future boast,—
Though in thy voice a note of warning was,—
This day, so like thee, seems thy very ghost!
O parted, precious, memorable days,
When sudden summer kindled all my ways,
When Love reached out his blessing hand to me,
And turned on mine the glory of his face!
When sudden summer kindled all my ways,
When Love reached out his blessing hand to me,
And turned on mine the glory of his face!
And thou, my Love, in whose deep soul my soul
Lay for a little season and grew whole,—
Thou who wert heat and light and sun and shade,—
Thou who didst lead me to Life's fairest goal;
Lay for a little season and grew whole,—
Thou who wert heat and light and sun and shade,—
Thou who didst lead me to Life's fairest goal;
Whose sweetest lips Love, kissing, made to sing,—
Ah, at what bright unfathomable spring
Was thy life nurtured, in the far-off land
Through which the unborn host go wandering?
Ah, at what bright unfathomable spring
Was thy life nurtured, in the far-off land
Through which the unborn host go wandering?
In stately body God thy soul did clothe,—
Thy perfect soul, — that so thou might'st have both
To take away the hearts of men, withal;
And tenderness to strength He did betroth;
Thy perfect soul, — that so thou might'st have both
To take away the hearts of men, withal;
And tenderness to strength He did betroth;
And in thy beautiful and luminous eyes
The wayward changefulness of April skies
He set for sovereign charm; and made thy voice
A sweet and a perpetual surprise.
The wayward changefulness of April skies
He set for sovereign charm; and made thy voice
A sweet and a perpetual surprise.
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Alas, what song of mine can demonstrate
The love that came between me and my fate,—
That would have saved me from despair and Doom
Had Destiny but been compassionate?
The love that came between me and my fate,—
That would have saved me from despair and Doom
Had Destiny but been compassionate?
As high as Heaven it was, deep as the sea,
And mystical and pure as lilies be,
And glowing with the glory of the June,
When birds and flowers and light make revelry.
And mystical and pure as lilies be,
And glowing with the glory of the June,
When birds and flowers and light make revelry.
Steadfast it was, as stars whereby men steer;
Tender as twilight, when the moon is near,
And all the gentle air is warm with hope,
And we the Summer's hastening feet can hear.
Tender as twilight, when the moon is near,
And all the gentle air is warm with hope,
And we the Summer's hastening feet can hear.
How can my single, singing strength suffice
To worship thee, my Love, my Paradise?
My song falls weak before thee, and abashed,
Nor ever to thy spirit's height may rise;
To worship thee, my Love, my Paradise?
My song falls weak before thee, and abashed,
Nor ever to thy spirit's height may rise;
Yet even by its failure men shall see
How more than all loves was my love of thee,—
Thou, who didst overflow my life with Heaven,
Making that life Love's miracle to be!
How more than all loves was my love of thee,—
Thou, who didst overflow my life with Heaven,
Making that life Love's miracle to be!
And, though my little note of music pass
As barren breath one breathes upon a glass,
And I be numbered with the numberless throng
Of whom men say not, even, “This man was,”
As barren breath one breathes upon a glass,
And I be numbered with the numberless throng
Of whom men say not, even, “This man was,”
Oh, yet, from thee, in whom all beauty blent,
My Rose of women, from thy heart there went—
From thy deep, splendid, perfect, passionate heart—
A love to be, in death, my monument!
My Rose of women, from thy heart there went—
From thy deep, splendid, perfect, passionate heart—
A love to be, in death, my monument!
340
ALAS!
Alas for all high hopes and all desires!
Like leaves in yellow autumn-time they fall;
Alas for prayers and psalms and love's pure fires,—
One silence and one darkness ends them all!
Like leaves in yellow autumn-time they fall;
Alas for prayers and psalms and love's pure fires,—
One silence and one darkness ends them all!
Alas for all the world, — sad fleeting race!
Alas, my Love, for you and me, Alas!
Grim Death will clasp us in his close embrace;
We, too, like all the rest from earth must pass.
Alas, my Love, for you and me, Alas!
Grim Death will clasp us in his close embrace;
We, too, like all the rest from earth must pass.
Alas to think we must forget some hours
Whereof the memory like Love's planet glows,—
Forget them as the year her withered flowers,—
Forget them as the June forgets the rose!
Whereof the memory like Love's planet glows,—
Forget them as the year her withered flowers,—
Forget them as the June forgets the rose!
Our keenest rapture, our most deep despair,
Our hopes, our dreads, our laughter, and our tears
Shall be no more at all upon the air,—
No more at all, through all the endless years.
Our hopes, our dreads, our laughter, and our tears
Shall be no more at all upon the air,—
No more at all, through all the endless years.
We shall be mute beneath the grass and dew
In that dark Kingdom where Death reigns in state,—
And you will be as I, and I as you—
One silence shed upon us, and one fate.
In that dark Kingdom where Death reigns in state,—
And you will be as I, and I as you—
One silence shed upon us, and one fate.
MY LIFE PUTS FORTH TO SEA ALONE.
My life puts forth to sea alone;
The skies are dark above;
All round I hear gray waters moan,—
Alas, for vanished love!
The skies are dark above;
All round I hear gray waters moan,—
Alas, for vanished love!
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“O lonely life that presseth on
Across these wastes of years,—
Where are the guiding pilots gone,—
Whose is the hand that steers?”
Across these wastes of years,—
Where are the guiding pilots gone,—
Whose is the hand that steers?”
The pilots they are left behind
Upon yon golden strand;
We drift before the driving wind;
We cannot miss the land,—
Upon yon golden strand;
We drift before the driving wind;
We cannot miss the land,—
That land to which we hurry on
Across the angry years;
Hope being dead, and sweet Love gone,
There is no hand that steers.
Across the angry years;
Hope being dead, and sweet Love gone,
There is no hand that steers.
FLOWN LOVE.
So far Love has flown we cannot find him;
All joy is past:
We may not follow, regain and bind him,
He flies so fast.
All joy is past:
We may not follow, regain and bind him,
He flies so fast.
“And where has Love flown, if flown he be?
Can you not say?
Across what mountains, and over what sea?
Which way? Which way?”
Can you not say?
Across what mountains, and over what sea?
Which way? Which way?”
O'er viewless mountains and seas you know not,
To lands unknown,
Where winds are still, and where waters flow not:
There has Love flown.
To lands unknown,
Where winds are still, and where waters flow not:
There has Love flown.
“And when did Love leave you alone, alone?
Heart, say this thing.”
In the autumn-time, when the wet winds moan.
And dead leaves cling;
Heart, say this thing.”
In the autumn-time, when the wet winds moan.
And dead leaves cling;
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When the night was wildest, the sky most black,
At dead of night,
Right into the wind, on his trackless track,
Love took his flight.
At dead of night,
Right into the wind, on his trackless track,
Love took his flight.
“Oh, wait till the summer the earth redeems
From winter's spell:
Then Love shall return and fulfil your dreams,
And all be well.”
From winter's spell:
Then Love shall return and fulfil your dreams,
And all be well.”
Nay, Love shall not come with the lengthening light,—
O Love flown far,
Right into the land, deep into the night
That knows no star.
O Love flown far,
Right into the land, deep into the night
That knows no star.
A BAGATELLE.
Not all the roses God hath made
Can love the sun aright:
The white rose is too chastely staid
To praise his warmth and light,—
But great red roses, they can love
With their deep hearts their king above.
Can love the sun aright:
The white rose is too chastely staid
To praise his warmth and light,—
But great red roses, they can love
With their deep hearts their king above.
Nor nightingales by night that sing
Can love alike the moon;
Nor all the flowers that come with Spring
Can praise aright her boon,—
One nightingale most feels Night's power;
And Spring is dearest to one flower.
Can love alike the moon;
Nor all the flowers that come with Spring
Can praise aright her boon,—
One nightingale most feels Night's power;
And Spring is dearest to one flower.
Not all the gulls that skim the sea
Delight alike in storm;
And never man, Sweetheart, to thee
Gave love so true and warm
As mine, that Heaven ordained on high
To worship thee until I die.
Delight alike in storm;
And never man, Sweetheart, to thee
Gave love so true and warm
As mine, that Heaven ordained on high
To worship thee until I die.
343
A CASTLE IN SPAIN.
To that country fair and far,
Where so many castles are,
Go, Song, on thy way!
Grand my castle once to see,—
Home of light and revelry,—
What is it to-day?
Where so many castles are,
Go, Song, on thy way!
Grand my castle once to see,—
Home of light and revelry,—
What is it to-day?
Round its turrets, fallen, lonely,
Dreams and songs now wander only,
Dreams and saddest song:
Dreary looks it in the noonlight;
Ghosts possess it in the moonlight,
When the night is long.
Dreams and songs now wander only,
Dreams and saddest song:
Dreary looks it in the noonlight;
Ghosts possess it in the moonlight,
When the night is long.
O my castle, fallen, lowly,
Fittest home for melancholy,
Sad, deserted place,
In your cold and crumbling halls,
Never now her footstep falls,
Never smiles her face!
Fittest home for melancholy,
Sad, deserted place,
In your cold and crumbling halls,
Never now her footstep falls,
Never smiles her face!
A SONG FOR TWILIGHT.
Now the winds a-wailing go
Through the sere forsaken trees;
Now the day is waxing low,
And above the troubled seas
Faint stars glimmer, and the breeze
Hovers, sad with memories.
Through the sere forsaken trees;
Now the day is waxing low,
And above the troubled seas
Faint stars glimmer, and the breeze
Hovers, sad with memories.
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Now the time to part has come,
What is left for us to say?
Shall we wander sad and dumb
Down this garden's leaf-strewn way;
Or by tossing waves and gray
Hand in hand together stray?
What is left for us to say?
Shall we wander sad and dumb
Down this garden's leaf-strewn way;
Or by tossing waves and gray
Hand in hand together stray?
In this garden shall we stand,
In the day's departing light,—
Here, where first I touched your hand
On that unforgotten night,
When you stood, 'mid roses bright,
Dream, embodied to the sight?
In the day's departing light,—
Here, where first I touched your hand
On that unforgotten night,
When you stood, 'mid roses bright,
Dream, embodied to the sight?
Where we met, Love, shall we part?
In this garden shall we twain,
Mouth to mouth, as heart to heart,
Loving turn, and kiss again,—
In this garden shall we drain
Love's last bitter-sweet, and pain?
In this garden shall we twain,
Mouth to mouth, as heart to heart,
Loving turn, and kiss again,—
In this garden shall we drain
Love's last bitter-sweet, and pain?
Nay, Love, let us leave this place;
Let us go, Dear, to the beach
Where in happy summer days,
Sleeping Love awoke to speech;
And his voice though low, could reach
To the deepest heart of each.
Let us go, Dear, to the beach
Where in happy summer days,
Sleeping Love awoke to speech;
And his voice though low, could reach
To the deepest heart of each.
There the sea-winds drifting sweet
From some strange land far away,
And the blown waves as they meet
One another in the bay,—
These together haply may
Hint some word for us to say.
From some strange land far away,
And the blown waves as they meet
One another in the bay,—
These together haply may
Hint some word for us to say.
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Let us kiss, then, Dear, and go
Down together to the sea;
We will kiss, Dear, meeting so,
In the days that are to be . . .
If my heart should then be free,
If you should remember me!
Down together to the sea;
We will kiss, Dear, meeting so,
In the days that are to be . . .
If my heart should then be free,
If you should remember me!
THE RIVER.
The river flows forever;
The moon upon it shines,—
One walks beside the river
With heart that longs and pines.
The moon upon it shines,—
One walks beside the river
With heart that longs and pines.
A breeze moves on the river;
The moon shakes in its flow,—
He grieves and grieves forever,
For days of long ago.
The moon shakes in its flow,—
He grieves and grieves forever,
For days of long ago.
The softly lapsing river,
It whispers in its flow
Of dear days gone forever,
Those days of long ago.
It whispers in its flow
Of dear days gone forever,
Those days of long ago.
He listens to the river;
A spirit seems to say:
“Forever, Love, forever,
Some day, some blessed day!”
A spirit seems to say:
“Forever, Love, forever,
Some day, some blessed day!”
Between the moon and river
The spirit seems to glide,—
He cries, “To-night, forever,
I'll clasp thee, O my bride!”
The spirit seems to glide,—
He cries, “To-night, forever,
I'll clasp thee, O my bride!”
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And the happy pilgrim river,
As it journeys toward the sea,
Sings, “Ever and forever,
Together they shall be!”
As it journeys toward the sea,
Sings, “Ever and forever,
Together they shall be!”
LOVE'S FLYING FEET.
Oh, follow Love's flying feet,—
They're fleet as the Wind's and fleeter;
Oh, honey indeed is sweet,
But the kisses of Love are sweeter.
They're fleet as the Wind's and fleeter;
Oh, honey indeed is sweet,
But the kisses of Love are sweeter.
Oh, hark to the voice of Love!
The song of the lark as he rises,
Or the cry of the bird in a grove
That the light of a brooklet surprises
The song of the lark as he rises,
Or the cry of the bird in a grove
That the light of a brooklet surprises
Is not so glad as Love's voice,—
That voice that of all things is gladdest,—
For it whispers of delicate joys,
And of raptures dearest and maddest.
That voice that of all things is gladdest,—
For it whispers of delicate joys,
And of raptures dearest and maddest.
Oh, look in Love's eyes that shine,
Alight with the whole world's splendor:
They are stars, intense and divine,
In a passionate heaven and tender.
Alight with the whole world's splendor:
They are stars, intense and divine,
In a passionate heaven and tender.
Oh, worship Love while you may,—
For never a love-dream may follow,
Where, hid from the light of the day,
Man sleeps in his small earth-hollow.
For never a love-dream may follow,
Where, hid from the light of the day,
Man sleeps in his small earth-hollow.
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TO SLEEP.
Ah, stay, dear Sleep, a little longer yet,
Though Day be come to chase thee;
And let me in thy sheltering arms forget,—
Dear Sleep, once more embrace me!
Though Day be come to chase thee;
And let me in thy sheltering arms forget,—
Dear Sleep, once more embrace me!
The time will come when thou and I must part,
But now, Belovèd, linger,
And soothe once more the sad and weary heart
Of me, thy lover and singer!
But now, Belovèd, linger,
And soothe once more the sad and weary heart
Of me, thy lover and singer!
Dear Comforter, who reignest undefiled,—
Within thy kingdom holy
The weary man is even as a child,—
The lofty as the lowly.
Within thy kingdom holy
The weary man is even as a child,—
The lofty as the lowly.
Ah, when our nuptial day shall dawn on high,—
With nuptial love-fires lighted,—
Then I forever in thine arms shall lie,
By no fresh grief affrighted.
With nuptial love-fires lighted,—
Then I forever in thine arms shall lie,
By no fresh grief affrighted.
LOVERS.
Oh, what does the night-wind say to the rose?
Alas, there is never a heart that knows!
Oh, what does the nightingale there in the brake
Sing to his love, as he sings for her sake?
Alas, there is never a heart that knows!
Oh, what does the nightingale there in the brake
Sing to his love, as he sings for her sake?
Be glad there is never an ear to discover—
O sweet wind-lover, O sweet bird-lover!
Your secret is safe, as mine own shall be
When the lips that I love have breathed it to me.
O sweet wind-lover, O sweet bird-lover!
Your secret is safe, as mine own shall be
When the lips that I love have breathed it to me.
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A REMEMBERED TUNE.
My hand strayed o'er the piano keys,
And it chanced on a song that you sang, my dear,
When we roamed through the country stillnesses,
Or stood by the sea, when the moon was clear,
In that other year.
And it chanced on a song that you sang, my dear,
When we roamed through the country stillnesses,
Or stood by the sea, when the moon was clear,
In that other year.
I forget the words you were wont to sing;
But the tune was a sweet and a tender one,
And sad as the thought of youth and Spring
To him who dreams, in the fading sun,
That the sweet time's done.
But the tune was a sweet and a tender one,
And sad as the thought of youth and Spring
To him who dreams, in the fading sun,
That the sweet time's done.
As I play, old hopes and old sorrows move,
Till it almost seems that your voice I hear,
And my spirit goes forth, to-day, to rove
Down the inland way where the sea was near,
In that other year.
Till it almost seems that your voice I hear,
And my spirit goes forth, to-day, to rove
Down the inland way where the sea was near,
In that other year.
As a bird that finds its nest,
When the winds are overstrong,
With quivering wings and panting breast,
Even so to-day this song
Which your dear lips used to sing,
From the days long left behind
Enters now, and folds its wing
In the still, remembering mind.
When the winds are overstrong,
With quivering wings and panting breast,
Even so to-day this song
Which your dear lips used to sing,
From the days long left behind
Enters now, and folds its wing
In the still, remembering mind.
AFTER LOVE'S PASSING.
The awful stillness in two human souls
Whence Love has passed away;
The dreary night no moon of joy controls;
The undelightful day;—
Whence Love has passed away;
The dreary night no moon of joy controls;
The undelightful day;—
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The cruel coldness where was once Love's heat;
The darkness where was light;
The burning, tearless eyes; the weary feet
That journey day and night;—
The darkness where was light;
The burning, tearless eyes; the weary feet
That journey day and night;—
The long, dark way that has no end but one,—
That goal no man may miss;
The winds that wail about the sunken sun
For life's departed bliss;—
That goal no man may miss;
The winds that wail about the sunken sun
For life's departed bliss;—
The fearful loneliness that comes between
Those souls erst one, now twain;
The passionate memory of what has been;
The unavailing pain;—
Those souls erst one, now twain;
The passionate memory of what has been;
The unavailing pain;—
The springs that come, but bring no hope of change;
The cheerless, summer hours;
With songs of birds grown old and harsh and strange,
And scentless, bloomless flowers;—
The cheerless, summer hours;
With songs of birds grown old and harsh and strange,
And scentless, bloomless flowers;—
The fruitless autumn, with no garnered corn;
The dreary, winter weather;
The two who walk apart, alone, forlorn,
Who once kept step together;—
The dreary, winter weather;
The two who walk apart, alone, forlorn,
Who once kept step together;—
The bitter sense of failure and regret;
The life without an aim;
The unavailing struggle to forget
The weakness, owned with shame;—
The life without an aim;
The unavailing struggle to forget
The weakness, owned with shame;—
These things make sad the night and sad the day,
And hard are they to bear:
Yet let those souls whence Love has passed away
Though sad, keep pure and fair:
And hard are they to bear:
Yet let those souls whence Love has passed away
Though sad, keep pure and fair:
Ah, let them say, “Great Love once tarried here
Making his home divine,—
Though he has passed, yet let us still hold dear
The temple and the shrine.”
Making his home divine,—
Though he has passed, yet let us still hold dear
The temple and the shrine.”
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A QUESTION.
Once at this window, touched by climbing boughs
Whose plenteous leaves were quivering listlessly
With some least breath of wind, through the still house,
Borne from the dim, remote old library,
I heard the organ's music, slow, profound,—
A moon-thrilled, travelling twilight of sweet sound,
Sad as the last breath of the leaves that lie
Thick, dead, and autumn-colored on the ground.
Whose plenteous leaves were quivering listlessly
With some least breath of wind, through the still house,
Borne from the dim, remote old library,
I heard the organ's music, slow, profound,—
A moon-thrilled, travelling twilight of sweet sound,
Sad as the last breath of the leaves that lie
Thick, dead, and autumn-colored on the ground.
To-day a child with eager hands will try
To gain the secret of the organ's soul,
And waking it to simple melody
Smile with fond pride to think he has the whole:
Shall I, who know of old the stops and keys,
The pain and longing, the regret and peace
That stronger fingers waken and control,
Hurt his young heart by mocking him with these?
To gain the secret of the organ's soul,
And waking it to simple melody
Smile with fond pride to think he has the whole:
Shall I, who know of old the stops and keys,
The pain and longing, the regret and peace
That stronger fingers waken and control,
Hurt his young heart by mocking him with these?
HEART-BREAKS AND SONGS.
Heart-breaks and songs,—
Fate, leave us these,
Since no man prolongs
Love's joy and peace.
Fate, leave us these,
Since no man prolongs
Love's joy and peace.
Summer was fair,
Though it was fleet,—
Cold now the air,
No breath is sweet.
Though it was fleet,—
Cold now the air,
No breath is sweet.
Faint is the sun,—
Roses are dead;
Lingers not one,
Dear, for your head.
Roses are dead;
Lingers not one,
Dear, for your head.
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Heart-breaks and songs,—
Fate leave us these,
Since no man prolongs
Love's joy and peace.
Fate leave us these,
Since no man prolongs
Love's joy and peace.
LOOKING FORWARD, IN FEBRUARY.
I look across the brief, remaining space
Of chill and wintry days,
Till March to sprinkle violets shall begin,
And snow-drops white and thin.
Of chill and wintry days,
Till March to sprinkle violets shall begin,
And snow-drops white and thin.
I look through April, quick with scent and song,
To where the shining throng
Of laughing, garlanded May days come on,
With large light of the sun.
To where the shining throng
Of laughing, garlanded May days come on,
With large light of the sun.
I look to June, — fair flower of all the year,—
O month of months appear!
O ardors of the summer-time come close,
With nightingale and rose!
O month of months appear!
O ardors of the summer-time come close,
With nightingale and rose!
Make haste to come, O time of all delight!
Bright day, and tender night—
For then shall I within a Heaven dwell
Whose name Love may not tell.
Bright day, and tender night—
For then shall I within a Heaven dwell
Whose name Love may not tell.
HER PITY.
This is the room to which she came that day,—
Came when the dusk was falling cold and gray,—
Came with soft step, in delicate array,
Came when the dusk was falling cold and gray,—
Came with soft step, in delicate array,
And sat beside me in the firelight there:
And like a rose of perfume rich and rare
Thrilled with her sweetness the environing air.
And like a rose of perfume rich and rare
Thrilled with her sweetness the environing air.
352
We heard the grind of traffic in the street,
The clamorous calls. the beat of passing feet,
The wail of bells that in the twilight meet.
The clamorous calls. the beat of passing feet,
The wail of bells that in the twilight meet.
Then I knelt down, and dared to touch her hand,—
Those slender fingers, and the shining band
Of happy gold wherewith her wrist was spanned.
Those slender fingers, and the shining band
Of happy gold wherewith her wrist was spanned.
Her radiant beauty made my heart rejoice;
And then she spoke, and her low, pitying voice
Was like the soft, pathetic, tender noise
And then she spoke, and her low, pitying voice
Was like the soft, pathetic, tender noise
Of winds that come before a summer rain:
Once leaped the blood in every clamorous vein;
Once leaped my heart, then dumb, stood still again.
Once leaped the blood in every clamorous vein;
Once leaped my heart, then dumb, stood still again.
GO, SONGS OF MINE.
Go, songs of mine to bring her on her way
With whisperings of love;
'Tis bleak March now, but then it shall be May,
With gentle skies above
And gentle seas below, what time she hears
Your little music chiming in her ears.
With whisperings of love;
'Tis bleak March now, but then it shall be May,
With gentle skies above
And gentle seas below, what time she hears
Your little music chiming in her ears.
Cold, cold this day, and white the air with snow,
And dark this place wherefrom
My hastening music ever loves to go
To find its natural home,—
Its home with her to whom all charms belong;
Who is both Queen of Love and Queen of Song.
And dark this place wherefrom
My hastening music ever loves to go
To find its natural home,—
Its home with her to whom all charms belong;
Who is both Queen of Love and Queen of Song.
353
Shall glad spring come? Shall May come with warm hours
And laughter of clear light,
And blossoming trees, and festivals of flowers,
And nightingales by night,
That pour their shuddering sweetness on the air,—
The music of an exquisite despair?
And laughter of clear light,
And blossoming trees, and festivals of flowers,
And nightingales by night,
That pour their shuddering sweetness on the air,—
The music of an exquisite despair?
And shall she come, who is my Spring of springs,—
Herself than May more fair?
Sweet is the song the Night's sad songster sings;
But her tones are more rare,—
Ah, shall she come, who is Spring and Summer in one,—
To my sad life its star, its moon, its sun?
Herself than May more fair?
Sweet is the song the Night's sad songster sings;
But her tones are more rare,—
Ah, shall she come, who is Spring and Summer in one,—
To my sad life its star, its moon, its sun?
AFTER SUMMER.
We'll not weep for summer over,—
No, not we;
Strew above his head the clover,—
Let him be!
No, not we;
Strew above his head the clover,—
Let him be!
Other eyes may weep his dying,
Shed their tears
There upon him, where he's lying
With his peers.
Shed their tears
There upon him, where he's lying
With his peers.
Unto some of them he proffered
Gifts most sweet;
For our hearts a grave he offered,—
Was this meet?
Gifts most sweet;
For our hearts a grave he offered,—
Was this meet?
All our fond hopes, praying, perished
In his wrath,—
All the lovely dreams we cherished
Strewed his path.
In his wrath,—
All the lovely dreams we cherished
Strewed his path.
354
Shall we in our tombs, I wonder,
Far apart,
Sundered wide as seas can sunder
Heart from heart,
Far apart,
Sundered wide as seas can sunder
Heart from heart,
Dream at all of all the sorrows
That were ours,—
Bitter nights, more bitter morrows;
Poison-flowers
That were ours,—
Bitter nights, more bitter morrows;
Poison-flowers
Summer gathered, as in madness,
Saying, “See,
These are yours, in place of gladness,—
Gifts from me?”
Saying, “See,
These are yours, in place of gladness,—
Gifts from me?”
Nay, the rest that will be ours,
Is supreme,—
And below the poppy flowers
Steals no dream.
Is supreme,—
And below the poppy flowers
Steals no dream.
AT LAST.
Rest here, at last,
The long way overpast;
Rest here, at home,—
Thy race is run,
Thy dreary journey done,
Thy last peak clomb.
The long way overpast;
Rest here, at home,—
Thy race is run,
Thy dreary journey done,
Thy last peak clomb.
'Twixt birth and death,
What days of bitter breath
Were thine, alas!
Thy soul had sight
To see, by day, by night,
Strange phantoms pass.
What days of bitter breath
Were thine, alas!
Thy soul had sight
To see, by day, by night,
Strange phantoms pass.
355
Thy restless heart
In few glad things had part,
But dwelt alone,
And night and day,
In the old way
Made the old moan.
In few glad things had part,
But dwelt alone,
And night and day,
In the old way
Made the old moan.
But here is rest
For aching brain and breast,
Deep rest, complete,
And nevermore,
Heart-weary and foot-sore,
Shall stray thy feet,—
For aching brain and breast,
Deep rest, complete,
And nevermore,
Heart-weary and foot-sore,
Shall stray thy feet,—
Thy feet that went,
With such long discontent,
Their wonted beat
About thy room,
With its deep-seated gloom,
Or through the street.
With such long discontent,
Their wonted beat
About thy room,
With its deep-seated gloom,
Or through the street.
Death gives them ease;
Death gives thy spirit peace;
Death lulls thee, quite.
One thing alone
Death leaves thee of thine own,—
Thy starless night.
Death gives thy spirit peace;
Death lulls thee, quite.
One thing alone
Death leaves thee of thine own,—
Thy starless night.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |