 | Poems (1885) |  |
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THE TWELVE MONTHS.
JANUARY.
Rain—hail—sleet—snow!—But in my East
This is the time when palm-trees quicken
With flowers, wherefrom the Arabs' feast
Of amber dates will thenceforth thicken.
This is the time when palm-trees quicken
With flowers, wherefrom the Arabs' feast
Of amber dates will thenceforth thicken.
Palms,—he and she—in sight they grow;
And o'er the desert-sands is wafted,
On light airs of the After-glow,
That golden dust whence fruit is grafted.
And o'er the desert-sands is wafted,
On light airs of the After-glow,
That golden dust whence fruit is grafted.
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Ah, happy trees! who feel no frost
Of winter-time, to chill your gladness;
And grow not close enough for cost
Of bliss fulfilled, which heightens sadness;
Of winter-time, to chill your gladness;
And grow not close enough for cost
Of bliss fulfilled, which heightens sadness;
No grey reality's alloy
Your green ideal can diminish!
You have love's kiss, in all its joy,
Without love's lips, which let it finish!
Your green ideal can diminish!
You have love's kiss, in all its joy,
Without love's lips, which let it finish!
FEBRUARY.
Fair Grecian legend, that, in Spring,
Seeking sweet tale for sunnier hours,
Fabled how Enna's queen did bring
Back from the under-world her flowers!
Seeking sweet tale for sunnier hours,
Fabled how Enna's queen did bring
Back from the under-world her flowers!
Whence come ye else, goblets of gold,
Which men the yellow crocus call?
You snowdrops, maiden-meek and cold,
What other fingers let you fall?
Which men the yellow crocus call?
You snowdrops, maiden-meek and cold,
What other fingers let you fall?
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What hand but hers, who, wont to rove
The asphodel in Himera,
Torn thence by an ungentle love,
Flung not her favourites away?
The asphodel in Himera,
Torn thence by an ungentle love,
Flung not her favourites away?
King of dark death! on thoughts that roam
Thy passion and thy power were spent:
When blossom-time is come at home,
Homeward the soul's strong wings are bent.
Thy passion and thy power were spent:
When blossom-time is come at home,
Homeward the soul's strong wings are bent.
So comes she, with her pleasant wont,
When Spring-time chases Winter cold,
Couching against his frozen front
Her tiny spears of green and gold.
When Spring-time chases Winter cold,
Couching against his frozen front
Her tiny spears of green and gold.
MARCH.
Welcome, North-wind! from the Norland;
Strike upon our foremost foreland,
Sweep away across the moorland,
Do thy lusty kind!
Thou and we were born together
In the black Norwegian weather;
Birds we be of one brave feather,
Welcome, bully wind!
Strike upon our foremost foreland,
Sweep away across the moorland,
Do thy lusty kind!
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In the black Norwegian weather;
Birds we be of one brave feather,
Welcome, bully wind!
Buss us! set our girls' cheeks glowing;
Southern blood asks sun for flowing,
North blood warms when winds are blowing,
Most of all winds, thou;
There's a sea-smack in thy kisses
Better than all breezy blisses,
So we know, our kinsman this is:
Buss us! cheek and brow.
Southern blood asks sun for flowing,
North blood warms when winds are blowing,
Most of all winds, thou;
There's a sea-smack in thy kisses
Better than all breezy blisses,
So we know, our kinsman this is:
Buss us! cheek and brow.
Rollick out thy wild sea-catches,
Roar thy stormy mad sea-snatches,
What bare masts and battened hatches
Thou hast left behind;
Ring it, till our ears shall ring, too,
How thou mad'st the Frenchman bring-to:
That's the music Northmen sing to,
Burly brother wind!
Roar thy stormy mad sea-snatches,
What bare masts and battened hatches
Thou hast left behind;
Ring it, till our ears shall ring, too,
How thou mad'st the Frenchman bring-to:
That's the music Northmen sing to,
Burly brother wind!
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Go! with train of spray and sea-bird,
Fling the milky waves to leeward,
Drive the ragged rain-clouds seaward,
Chase the scudding ships;
To the south wind take our greeting,
Bid him bring the Spring—his Sweeting—
Say what glad hearts wait her meeting,
What bright eyes and lips.
Fling the milky waves to leeward,
Drive the ragged rain-clouds seaward,
Chase the scudding ships;
To the south wind take our greeting,
Bid him bring the Spring—his Sweeting—
Say what glad hearts wait her meeting,
What bright eyes and lips.
APRIL.
Blossom of the almond-trees,April's gift to April's bees,
Birthday ornament of spring,
Flora's fairest daughterling!—
Coming when no flow'rets dare
Trust the cruel outer air;
When the royal king-cup bold
Will not don his coat of gold;
And the sturdy blackthorn spray
Keeps its silver for the May;—
Coming when no flow'rets would,
Save thy lowly sisterhood
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Dying for their love of light.
Almond blossom, sent to teach us
That the spring-days soon will reach us,
Lest, with longing over-tried,
We die as the violets died.
Blossom, clouding all the tree
With thy crimson 'broidery,
Long before a leaf of green
On the bravest bough is seen;
Ah! when wintry winds are swinging
All thy red bells into ringing,
With a bee in every bell,
Almond bloom, we greet thee well!
MAY.
Who cares on the land to stay,
Wasting the wealth of a day?
The yellow fields leave
For the meadows that heave,
And away to the sea—away!
Wasting the wealth of a day?
The yellow fields leave
For the meadows that heave,
And away to the sea—away!
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To the meadows far out on the deep,
Whose ploughs are the winds that sweep
The green furrows high,
When into the sky
The silvery foam-bells leap.
Whose ploughs are the winds that sweep
The green furrows high,
When into the sky
The silvery foam-bells leap.
At sea!—my bark—at sea!
With the winds, and the wild clouds and me;
The low shore soon
Will be down with the moon,
And none on the waves but we!
With the winds, and the wild clouds and me;
The low shore soon
Will be down with the moon,
And none on the waves but we!
Thy wings are abroad, my bird,
And the sound of their speed is heard;
The scud flieth west,
And the gull to her nest,
But they lag far behind us, my bird!
And the sound of their speed is heard;
The scud flieth west,
And the gull to her nest,
But they lag far behind us, my bird!
White as my true love's neck
Are the sails that shadow thy deck;
And thine image wan,
Like the stream-mirrored swan,
Lies dim on thy dancing track.
Are the sails that shadow thy deck;
And thine image wan,
Like the stream-mirrored swan,
Lies dim on thy dancing track.
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On! on! with a swoop and a swirl,
High over the clear waves' curl;
Under thy prow,
Like a fairy, now,
Make the blue water bubble with pearl!
High over the clear waves' curl;
Under thy prow,
Like a fairy, now,
Make the blue water bubble with pearl!
Lo! yonder, my lady, the light!
'Tis the last of the land in sight!
Look once—and away!
Bows down in the spray;
Lighted on by the lamps of the night!
'Tis the last of the land in sight!
Look once—and away!
Bows down in the spray;
Lighted on by the lamps of the night!
JUNE.
Lily of June, pearl-petalled, emerald-leaved!
A sceptre thou, a silver-studded wand
By lusty June, the Lord of Summer, waved,
To give to blade and bud his high command.
A sceptre thou, a silver-studded wand
By lusty June, the Lord of Summer, waved,
To give to blade and bud his high command.
Nay! not a sceptre, but a seated Bride,
The white Sultana of a world of flowers,
Chosen, o'er all their passion and their pride,
To reign with June, Lady of azure hours.
The white Sultana of a world of flowers,
Chosen, o'er all their passion and their pride,
To reign with June, Lady of azure hours.
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Ah, vestal-bosomed! Thou that, all the May,
From maidenly reserve would'st not depart,
Till June's warm wooing won thee to display
The golden secret hidden at thy heart.
From maidenly reserve would'st not depart,
Till June's warm wooing won thee to display
The golden secret hidden at thy heart.
Lay thy white heart bare to the Summer King!
Brim thy broad chalice for him with fresh rain!
Fling to him from thy milky censers, fling
Fine fragrances, a Bride without a stain!
Brim thy broad chalice for him with fresh rain!
Fling to him from thy milky censers, fling
Fine fragrances, a Bride without a stain!
Without?—look, June! thy pearly love is smutched!
That which did wake her gentle beauty, slays;
Alas! that nothing lovely lasts, if touched
By aught more earnest than a longing gaze.
That which did wake her gentle beauty, slays;
Alas! that nothing lovely lasts, if touched
By aught more earnest than a longing gaze.
JULY.
Proud, on the bosom of the river,
White-winged the vessels come and go,
Dropping down with ingots to deliver,
Drifting up stately on the flow.
Mirrored in the sparkling waters under,
Mightily rising to the sky,
Kings of the sunshine and the thunder,
Come they and go they, in July.
White-winged the vessels come and go,
Dropping down with ingots to deliver,
Drifting up stately on the flow.
Mirrored in the sparkling waters under,
Mightily rising to the sky,
336
Come they and go they, in July.
Quiet, in the reaches of the river,
Blooms the sea-poppy all alone;
Hidden by the marshy sedges ever,
Who knows its golden cup is blown?
Who cares if far-distant billows,
Rocking the great ships to sea,
Underneath the tassels of the willows
Rock the sea-poppy and the bee?
Blooms the sea-poppy all alone;
Hidden by the marshy sedges ever,
Who knows its golden cup is blown?
Who cares if far-distant billows,
Rocking the great ships to sea,
Underneath the tassels of the willows
Rock the sea-poppy and the bee?
Rock the marsh-blossom with its burden,
Only a worker bee at most!
Working for nothing but the guerdon
To live on its honey in the frost.
The outward-bound ye watch, and the incomer;
The bee and the blossom none espy!
But those have their portion in the summer,
In the glad, gold sunshine of July.
Only a worker bee at most!
Working for nothing but the guerdon
To live on its honey in the frost.
The outward-bound ye watch, and the incomer;
The bee and the blossom none espy!
But those have their portion in the summer,
In the glad, gold sunshine of July.
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AUGUST.
[From the German.]
Once, with a Landlord wondrous fine,
A weary guest, I tarried,
A golden pippin was his sign,
Upon a green branch carried!
A weary guest, I tarried,
A golden pippin was his sign,
Upon a green branch carried!
Mine host—he was an apple-tree
With whom I took my leisure;
Fair fruit, and mellowed juicily,
He gave me from his treasure.
With whom I took my leisure;
Fair fruit, and mellowed juicily,
He gave me from his treasure.
There came to that same hostel gay
Bright guests, in brave adorning;
A merry feast they made all day,
And sang, and slept till morning.
Bright guests, in brave adorning;
A merry feast they made all day,
And sang, and slept till morning.
I, too, to rest my body laid
On bed of crimson clover;
The landlord with his own broad shade
Carefully spread me over.
On bed of crimson clover;
The landlord with his own broad shade
Carefully spread me over.
338
I rose;—I called to pay the score,
But “No!” he grandly boweth;
Now, root and fruit, for evermore
God bless him, while he groweth!
But “No!” he grandly boweth;
Now, root and fruit, for evermore
God bless him, while he groweth!
SEPTEMBER.
The harvest-moon stands on the sea,
Her golden rim's adrip;
She lights the sheaves on many a lea,
The sails on many a ship;
Glitter, sweet Queen! upon the spray,
And glimmer on the heather;
Right fair thy ray to gild the way
Where lovers walk together.
Her golden rim's adrip;
She lights the sheaves on many a lea,
The sails on many a ship;
Glitter, sweet Queen! upon the spray,
And glimmer on the heather;
Right fair thy ray to gild the way
Where lovers walk together.
The red wheat rustles, and the vines
Are purple to the foot;
And true-love, waiting patient, wins
Its blessed time of fruit:
Lamp of all lovers, Lady-moon!
Light these ripe lips together
Which reap alone a harvest sown
Long ere September weather.
Are purple to the foot;
And true-love, waiting patient, wins
Its blessed time of fruit:
Lamp of all lovers, Lady-moon!
Light these ripe lips together
Which reap alone a harvest sown
Long ere September weather.
339
OCTOBER.
A bold brunette she is, radiant with mirth,
Who comes a-tripping over corn-fields cropped;
Fruits and blown roses, from her full arms dropped,
Carpet her feet along the gladdened earth;
Who comes a-tripping over corn-fields cropped;
Fruits and blown roses, from her full arms dropped,
Carpet her feet along the gladdened earth;
Around her brow glitters a careless crown
Of bronzëd oak, and apple-leaves, and vine;
And russet-nuts and country berries twine
About her gleaming shoulders and loose gown.
Of bronzëd oak, and apple-leaves, and vine;
And russet-nuts and country berries twine
About her gleaming shoulders and loose gown.
Like grapes at vintage, where the ripe wine glows,
Glows so her sweet cheek, summer-touched but fair,
And, like grape-tendrils, all her wealth of hair,
Gold on a ground of brown, nods as she goes:
Glows so her sweet cheek, summer-touched but fair,
And, like grape-tendrils, all her wealth of hair,
Gold on a ground of brown, nods as she goes:
Grapes too, a-spirt, her brimming fingers bear,
A dainty winepress, pouring wet and warm
The crimson river over wrist and arm,
And on her lips—adding no crimson there!
A dainty winepress, pouring wet and warm
The crimson river over wrist and arm,
And on her lips—adding no crimson there!
340
Ah! golden autumn hours—fly not so fast!
Let the sweet Lady long with us delay;
The sunset makes the sun so wished-for,—stay!
Of three fair sisters—loveliest and the last!
Let the sweet Lady long with us delay;
The sunset makes the sun so wished-for,—stay!
Of three fair sisters—loveliest and the last!
But after laughter ever follows grief,
And Pleasure's sunshine brings its shadow Pain;
Even now begins the dreary time again,
The first dull patter of the first dead leaf.
And Pleasure's sunshine brings its shadow Pain;
Even now begins the dreary time again,
The first dull patter of the first dead leaf.
NOVEMBER.
Come! in thy veil of ashen cloud
With mists around thee, like a shroud,
And wan face coloured with no light
Of sun or moon, by day or night;
I would not see thee glad and gay
Dark month! that called my Love away!
With mists around thee, like a shroud,
And wan face coloured with no light
Of sun or moon, by day or night;
I would not see thee glad and gay
Dark month! that called my Love away!
I would not see thee otherwise
Grey month! that hast the dying eyes;
Cold month! that com'st with icy hands
Chaining the waters and the lands!
So didst thou chill two hearts at play,
Dark month! that called my Love away!
Grey month! that hast the dying eyes;
Cold month! that com'st with icy hands
Chaining the waters and the lands!
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Dark month! that called my Love away!
And yet, I know, behind thy mists
The bright Sun shines, Love's star subsists!
If we could lift thy veil, may be,
Thy hidden face were good to see!
Come as thou wilt—I say not nay,
Dark month! that called my Love away!
The bright Sun shines, Love's star subsists!
If we could lift thy veil, may be,
Thy hidden face were good to see!
Come as thou wilt—I say not nay,
Dark month! that called my Love away!
November 1864.
DECEMBER.
In fret-work of frost and spangle of snowUnto his end the year doth wend;
And sadly for some the days did go,
And glad for some were beginning and end!
But—sad or glad—grieve not for his death,
Mournfully counting your measures of breath,
You, that, before the stars began,
Were seed of woman and promise of man,
You who are older than Aldebaran!
It was but a ring round about the Sun,
One passing dance of the planets done;
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Which the great worlds pace, to a music set
By Life immortal and Love divine:
Whereof is struck, in your threescore and ten,
One chord of the harmony, fair and fine,
Of that which maketh us women and men!
In fret-work of frost and spangle of snow,
Sad or glad—let the old year go!
| Poems (1885) | |