 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
DEAD LOVE.
I see that you are weary with the dance;
Inside the air is faint with scent and light,
But here, where many-colored lanterns glance
Through trees whose branches quiver in the night, —
Here let us stand alone a little space,
As in the days departed, face to face.
Inside the air is faint with scent and light,
But here, where many-colored lanterns glance
Through trees whose branches quiver in the night, —
Here let us stand alone a little space,
As in the days departed, face to face.
76
Your hair is not less golden than of old,
Your eyes are not less subtly sweet to snare
The souls of men, and still your curled lips hold
The magic of a smile which was more fair,
Years back, to me than fairer things could be;
Yet now its charm with flameless eyes I see.
Your eyes are not less subtly sweet to snare
The souls of men, and still your curled lips hold
The magic of a smile which was more fair,
Years back, to me than fairer things could be;
Yet now its charm with flameless eyes I see.
Oh, how your face thrilled through me, five years' since;
The touch of this small hand I hold in mine
Would warm my blood like fire, while lips would wince
To feel your kiss; and as a shaken vine
That bows its straining branches to the wind,
So then to me you yearned, with love made blind.
The touch of this small hand I hold in mine
Would warm my blood like fire, while lips would wince
To feel your kiss; and as a shaken vine
That bows its straining branches to the wind,
So then to me you yearned, with love made blind.
Then our lips clove, as if they ne'er would part,
Then hands were linked with hands, and eyes met eyes;
Thus quickly never beats again my heart
As in the days of that lost paradise;
For now as tunes played out, as poems said,
The music ceases, the closed book is read.
Then hands were linked with hands, and eyes met eyes;
Thus quickly never beats again my heart
As in the days of that lost paradise;
For now as tunes played out, as poems said,
The music ceases, the closed book is read.
Then all the ways of life with bliss grew bright,
As when in spring the long-delaying sun
Breaks through the sky and floods the land with light,
And all the heaven's glory is begun;
Though yet before October ends, the skies
Shall look as sad as life-resigning eyes.
As when in spring the long-delaying sun
Breaks through the sky and floods the land with light,
And all the heaven's glory is begun;
Though yet before October ends, the skies
Shall look as sad as life-resigning eyes.
So shone our love which, ere late autumn-time,
Lay pale and dying with no breath for speech;
And now a withered rose, an empty rhyme, —
Ah, is this all that fate has left to each?
So tame love's fire, I gaze and snatch no kiss;
Alas! poor love, that it should come to this!
Lay pale and dying with no breath for speech;
And now a withered rose, an empty rhyme, —
Ah, is this all that fate has left to each?
So tame love's fire, I gaze and snatch no kiss;
Alas! poor love, that it should come to this!
Let's sit beneath this lantern-fruited tree,
That dances in the wind with jewelled light;
Let our souls backward look till they can see
Some little glory of a gone delight:
Can you remember something of that time?
Or have you quite forgotten the old rhyme
That dances in the wind with jewelled light;
Let our souls backward look till they can see
Some little glory of a gone delight:
77
Or have you quite forgotten the old rhyme
I made, that day of days, when I and you
Stood by the sea whose stormy shallows roared
On wastes of shell-strewn sand? The sky was blue
As down the hot sun on the wet sand poured;
Up steamed the sea-scent warm and sharp and sweet;
We laughed to see the billows, thundering, meet.
Stood by the sea whose stormy shallows roared
On wastes of shell-strewn sand? The sky was blue
As down the hot sun on the wet sand poured;
Up steamed the sea-scent warm and sharp and sweet;
We laughed to see the billows, thundering, meet.
None, save us twain, upon the shore was seen, —
The gull cried loud his short, hard, stormy cry,
The blown foam crested all the deep sea's green,
The summer sun burnt hot, the wind was high,
And, hissing, dashed the bright spray in our eyes
When a great wave broke with a great surprise.
The gull cried loud his short, hard, stormy cry,
The blown foam crested all the deep sea's green,
The summer sun burnt hot, the wind was high,
And, hissing, dashed the bright spray in our eyes
When a great wave broke with a great surprise.
But see how I have wandered from the verse
Which I remember, though I see you doubt.
Laugh not, songs counted better I 've deemed worse; —
A little love-sick song, and all about
Your face and voice, where still the old charm lies,
Sweet waifs of laughter and soft tender sighs.
Which I remember, though I see you doubt.
Laugh not, songs counted better I 've deemed worse; —
A little love-sick song, and all about
Your face and voice, where still the old charm lies,
Sweet waifs of laughter and soft tender sighs.
It was a sad and happy time, you say,
Yet sweet as is an ever-changing tune;
Ah me, the close of that still July day,
When with the sun's excess earth seemed to swoon,
And we together wandered on the shore,
Half feeling we should wander there no more!
Yet sweet as is an ever-changing tune;
Ah me, the close of that still July day,
When with the sun's excess earth seemed to swoon,
And we together wandered on the shore,
Half feeling we should wander there no more!
All round, the sea-wet shining nets were spread;
Gold shone the cliffs, and all the sea was bright
As through its glowing depths the sun had shed
His soul in one great ecstasy of light.
It faded; mutely we awhile did stand,
Then left forever that enchanted strand.
Gold shone the cliffs, and all the sea was bright
As through its glowing depths the sun had shed
His soul in one great ecstasy of light.
It faded; mutely we awhile did stand,
Then left forever that enchanted strand.
78
Your goal was Paris: there one eve we went,
Your mother with us. How she loved to see
Our love! That night the moon from heaven leant,
As leans some maiden from a balcony
Down looking to the lawn with eager eyes,
To see a loved form through the stillness rise.
Your mother with us. How she loved to see
Our love! That night the moon from heaven leant,
As leans some maiden from a balcony
Down looking to the lawn with eager eyes,
To see a loved form through the stillness rise.
Recall the jingling horse-bells, the whip's crack,
The still, lit villages where all was peace,
The hedges in the moonlight strange and black,
The voiceless cornfields and the fleeting trees,
The long hill, wild and steep, which, dashing down,
We saw the tree-girt, white-walled, shining town.
The still, lit villages where all was peace,
The hedges in the moonlight strange and black,
The voiceless cornfields and the fleeting trees,
The long hill, wild and steep, which, dashing down,
We saw the tree-girt, white-walled, shining town.
Rattling into its narrow streets we plunged,
And left the dim, still country far behind;
The coach-wheels strained and thundered, whirled and lunged;
At first the great light almost made us blind.
Ah, then, what laughs we laughed, what songs we sung,
While hands unseen, oft meeting, closed and clung.
And left the dim, still country far behind;
The coach-wheels strained and thundered, whirled and lunged;
At first the great light almost made us blind.
Ah, then, what laughs we laughed, what songs we sung,
While hands unseen, oft meeting, closed and clung.
As hot as ever Eastern desert was
Grew Paris 'neath the blaze of August heat;
The public gardens, sad with withered grass,
Seemed but to say: “Time was when we were sweet,
Before the south wind left us, and the west;
Oh, once more in some gray cloud's shade to rest!”
Grew Paris 'neath the blaze of August heat;
The public gardens, sad with withered grass,
Seemed but to say: “Time was when we were sweet,
Before the south wind left us, and the west;
Oh, once more in some gray cloud's shade to rest!”
But life hates joy. The war-cloud burst at length;
The men of England girt themselves for strife,
Amongst them I: it tried my manhood's strength
To kiss you the last time, perchance, in life; —
That night of thunder I remember yet
And how we parted I cannot forget.
The men of England girt themselves for strife,
Amongst them I: it tried my manhood's strength
To kiss you the last time, perchance, in life; —
That night of thunder I remember yet
And how we parted I cannot forget.
79
The earth with imminent tempest seemed oppressed;
The torpid air shook shuddering to the sound
Of thunder booming slowly from the west:
Long lurid light the vaporous grayness crowned,
And all things, with one stillness, ominously
Waited for that which was about to be.
The torpid air shook shuddering to the sound
Of thunder booming slowly from the west:
Long lurid light the vaporous grayness crowned,
And all things, with one stillness, ominously
Waited for that which was about to be.
The o'er-wrought heaven heaved and gasped in flame:
Below, black clouds hemmed in the fading light;
Incensed, the thunder cried aloud God's name,
As one who warns the world ere he shall smite;
When suddenly up sprang a gusty breeze
And spread a panic through the swaying trees.
Below, black clouds hemmed in the fading light;
Incensed, the thunder cried aloud God's name,
As one who warns the world ere he shall smite;
When suddenly up sprang a gusty breeze
And spread a panic through the swaying trees.
Then fiercer lightnings clove the sky in twain;
Loud fell the thunder crashing through the sky;
A pause: then like redemption fell the rain,
And hissed against the cracking earth and dry,
Dark all around, save where the lightning's glow
Lit up the empty, tree-fringed court below.
Loud fell the thunder crashing through the sky;
A pause: then like redemption fell the rain,
And hissed against the cracking earth and dry,
Dark all around, save where the lightning's glow
Lit up the empty, tree-fringed court below.
Oh, the last kiss, the long last lingering look,
The touch and thrill of hands that intertwined!
But when at length the storm the sky forsook,
I heard your cry rise mixing with the wind, —
You say my voice was broken; so it was,
But yet did not your own in grief surpass.
The touch and thrill of hands that intertwined!
But when at length the storm the sky forsook,
I heard your cry rise mixing with the wind, —
You say my voice was broken; so it was,
But yet did not your own in grief surpass.
Ah, think of how we looked, and what we said;
Laugh as I laugh, — your laugh is sweet to hear.
Love was our sovereign then, rose-garlanded;
He gave us pain and bliss and hope and fear;
Now he is dead; yet know we not how slain,
But this we know, — he shall not live again.
Laugh as I laugh, — your laugh is sweet to hear.
Love was our sovereign then, rose-garlanded;
He gave us pain and bliss and hope and fear;
Now he is dead; yet know we not how slain,
But this we know, — he shall not live again.
80
Out in the past, there let him lie and rot —
He had his time of birth and time of death;
Give him one thought now, then remember not
That ever his pale lips were warm with breath.
Oh, I am glad to-night, yea, gay enough
To dance a measure on the grave of love.
He had his time of birth and time of death;
Give him one thought now, then remember not
That ever his pale lips were warm with breath.
Oh, I am glad to-night, yea, gay enough
To dance a measure on the grave of love.
Nay, now at our past follies we can smile;
I wept hot tears who had not wept till then.
No second love shall thus our hearts beguile:
It happens to most women and most men
To know one love, which as a sudden fire
Burns and consumes their hearts with great desire.
I wept hot tears who had not wept till then.
No second love shall thus our hearts beguile:
It happens to most women and most men
To know one love, which as a sudden fire
Burns and consumes their hearts with great desire.
Then all earth's fairness in one fair face lies;
Then all earth's music in one sweet voice is;
Then, 'neath the long rapt gaze of hungering eyes,
Love leaps to find its vent in one long kiss,
While cold and sad seems every other fate, —
But we can smile now, only saying — wait!
Then all earth's music in one sweet voice is;
Then, 'neath the long rapt gaze of hungering eyes,
Love leaps to find its vent in one long kiss,
While cold and sad seems every other fate, —
But we can smile now, only saying — wait!
You wedded joys that spring from wealth alone;
I courted fame, — a bright and barren bride,
Whom from Death's arms I snatched to make my own,
When roared the red strife like a stormy tide.
Oh, very strange to-night this meeting is,
So much to feel, and yet one feeling miss:
I courted fame, — a bright and barren bride,
Whom from Death's arms I snatched to make my own,
When roared the red strife like a stormy tide.
Oh, very strange to-night this meeting is,
So much to feel, and yet one feeling miss:
That comes not back. Speak on, still — sweet, your voice,
Years back it hurt me with delicious pain;
Let us shake hands across our buried joys.
The waltz strikes up: you catch the well-known strain?
When last we heard it 't was that year in France.
Let us go in; your hand for the next dance.
Years back it hurt me with delicious pain;
Let us shake hands across our buried joys.
The waltz strikes up: you catch the well-known strain?
When last we heard it 't was that year in France.
Let us go in; your hand for the next dance.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |