 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
213
YET HOW FAIR!
God saw the world that he had made, and its beauty swept across his soul like a sudden scent of summer in the air, like the sound of distant music, like the melody of the wings of the wind, and he leaned his head upon his hands and wept.
Yet how fair!
For all the sweeping agony of rain
That bars the windows of the day with pain
At night, behold! the moon peeps forth again
With golden hair,
This world of ours is woeful, yet how fair!
For all the sweeping agony of rain
That bars the windows of the day with pain
At night, behold! the moon peeps forth again
With golden hair,
This world of ours is woeful, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
To-day her words are cruel, and her eyes
Shake all the summer glory of the skies
Into the sieve of sadness, and low lies
Her lover in despair,
Wicked is she who wounds him, yet him fair!
To-day her words are cruel, and her eyes
Shake all the summer glory of the skies
Into the sieve of sadness, and low lies
Her lover in despair,
Wicked is she who wounds him, yet him fair!
214
Yet how fair!
In all the reckless splendour of his youth
He rides his horse-hoofs over trampled truth,
And gives for gladness to a maiden ruth,
And sorrow for her share,
Ignoble is his presence, yet how fair!
In all the reckless splendour of his youth
He rides his horse-hoofs over trampled truth,
And gives for gladness to a maiden ruth,
And sorrow for her share,
Ignoble is his presence, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The long melodious laughter of the storm
Across a seething waste of billows borne
When shipwrecked heart from heart asunder torn
Shrieks everywhere,
Wild is the winter weather, yet how fair!
The long melodious laughter of the storm
Across a seething waste of billows borne
When shipwrecked heart from heart asunder torn
Shrieks everywhere,
Wild is the winter weather, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The simple lines of softly smiling lips
That hold a rosebud unto him that sips
Their sweetness, that a sudden shudder nips
And freezeth there,
Thrice treacherous are they, brother, yet how fair!
The simple lines of softly smiling lips
That hold a rosebud unto him that sips
Their sweetness, that a sudden shudder nips
And freezeth there,
Thrice treacherous are they, brother, yet how fair!
215
Yet how fair!
The burning flow of vowels that deceive,
That wrap a heart in flames they mean to leave,
And such a marvellous web of witchery weave,
So soft a lair,
Kindled at hell the words are, yet how fair!
The burning flow of vowels that deceive,
That wrap a heart in flames they mean to leave,
And such a marvellous web of witchery weave,
So soft a lair,
Kindled at hell the words are, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
When on some sick St. Anthony peepeth in
A face whose fire might tempt a saint to sin,
Braided with sighs of souls she seeks to win,
She seeks to tear,
Wicked is she who tempts him, yet how fair!
When on some sick St. Anthony peepeth in
A face whose fire might tempt a saint to sin,
Braided with sighs of souls she seeks to win,
She seeks to tear,
Wicked is she who tempts him, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The world is heavy with the weight of snows,
And only here and there we find a rose,
And up and down the wheel of fortune goes,
And hard to bear
Her folly, she is fickle, yet how fair!
The world is heavy with the weight of snows,
And only here and there we find a rose,
And up and down the wheel of fortune goes,
And hard to bear
Her folly, she is fickle, yet how fair!
216
Yet how fair!
The summer morning wet with woven dews
On all the grass not one of us can choose
But love, though unto him the day refuse
A flower to wear,
The summer day is selfish, yet how fair!
The summer morning wet with woven dews
On all the grass not one of us can choose
But love, though unto him the day refuse
A flower to wear,
The summer day is selfish, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The gentle moonlight cast across the sheaves,
Though in the midst there sits a soul that grieves,
Whose heart is shaken like the autumn leaves,
To blossom ne'er
Again in this world, bitter, yet how fair!
The gentle moonlight cast across the sheaves,
Though in the midst there sits a soul that grieves,
Whose heart is shaken like the autumn leaves,
To blossom ne'er
Again in this world, bitter, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The silvery night that takes a maid away
For whom a mother somewhere strives to pray,
The silvery night in arms of which they stray
A passionate pair,
The night it is that wiles them, yet how fair!
The silvery night that takes a maid away
For whom a mother somewhere strives to pray,
The silvery night in arms of which they stray
A passionate pair,
The night it is that wiles them, yet how fair!
217
Yet how fair!
An early morning in the woods of spring
When like young leaves so easily they cling—
Those kisses—and the afternoons that sting,
That would repair
With sadness over-gladness, yet how fair!
An early morning in the woods of spring
When like young leaves so easily they cling—
Those kisses—and the afternoons that sting,
That would repair
With sadness over-gladness, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The bloom and pouting petals of a rose,
Though not a man of us there is but knows
That bloom is for a season, after goes,
And goeth where?
Thrice bitter is its beauty, yet how fair!
The bloom and pouting petals of a rose,
Though not a man of us there is but knows
That bloom is for a season, after goes,
And goeth where?
Thrice bitter is its beauty, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
A little hand that waves a man to follow,
A wafted sigh that, foolish, he must swallow,
A glance that leads him over hill and hollow,
Swift to ensnare,
A simple thing is each one, yet how fair!
A little hand that waves a man to follow,
A wafted sigh that, foolish, he must swallow,
A glance that leads him over hill and hollow,
Swift to ensnare,
A simple thing is each one, yet how fair!
218
Yet how fair!
The white face of a hero lying dead,
Over each cheek of his a pale rose shed,
Death's bosom bent to pillow him instead
Of heart of her
Who would have died to save him, yet how fair!
The white face of a hero lying dead,
Over each cheek of his a pale rose shed,
Death's bosom bent to pillow him instead
Of heart of her
Who would have died to save him, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The very rubbing off of early bloom,
Yea, and the threatening terror of the tomb,
Yea, and the steady coming on of gloom
An end to declare
Of all things, bitter is it, yet how fair!
The very rubbing off of early bloom,
Yea, and the threatening terror of the tomb,
Yea, and the steady coming on of gloom
An end to declare
Of all things, bitter is it, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The laughing eyes of maidenhood the while
Their sole success is knowing how to smile,
Although we feel that teeth of time will file,
His fingers pare
The softest apple-blossom, yet how fair!
The laughing eyes of maidenhood the while
Their sole success is knowing how to smile,
Although we feel that teeth of time will file,
His fingers pare
The softest apple-blossom, yet how fair!
219
Yet how fair!
The weary years, the years that come and go
And crown their sad departure, each, with snow,
For each to some gay heart has given a glow,
A kindled glare
Of happiness, they hasten, yet how fair!
The weary years, the years that come and go
And crown their sad departure, each, with snow,
For each to some gay heart has given a glow,
A kindled glare
Of happiness, they hasten, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The softest sighs of air that steal between
Downbending tracery of branches green
Where lovers' feet are often standing seen,
Though frosts should dare
To nip the leaves in winter, yet how fair!
The softest sighs of air that steal between
Downbending tracery of branches green
Where lovers' feet are often standing seen,
Though frosts should dare
To nip the leaves in winter, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The foam flakes showered all across the blue,
On mornings when the wind is wailing through
The rigging, and a pair of lovers true
Their fealty swear,
The sea's an arch deceiver, yet how fair!
The foam flakes showered all across the blue,
On mornings when the wind is wailing through
The rigging, and a pair of lovers true
Their fealty swear,
The sea's an arch deceiver, yet how fair!
220
Yet how fair!
The very ecstasy that drags us down,
The very wild delirium of the crown
A smile can weave, and fling to earth a frown,
A motion scare,
Sweet is it, fleeting is it, yet how fair!
The very ecstasy that drags us down,
The very wild delirium of the crown
A smile can weave, and fling to earth a frown,
A motion scare,
Sweet is it, fleeting is it, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The dreams that wave their sleepy wings at night
And scatter, scared at advent of the light,
To leave us unfledged, after visions bright
Fast held of care,
Deceitful are they, dangerous, yet how fair!
The dreams that wave their sleepy wings at night
And scatter, scared at advent of the light,
To leave us unfledged, after visions bright
Fast held of care,
Deceitful are they, dangerous, yet how fair!
Yet how fair!
The whole of things, the ecstasy that drains
The panting soul till not a drop remains,
Till pleasure's flower ripens into pains,
Till eyelids stare,
Till happiness is heavy, yet how fair!
The whole of things, the ecstasy that drains
The panting soul till not a drop remains,
Till pleasure's flower ripens into pains,
Till eyelids stare,
Till happiness is heavy, yet how fair!
221
Yet how fair!
In spite of all, the Universal Glow,
In spite of all the streets on fire with woe
And faces pale and haggard all-a-row,
Though to prepare
Reaction runs the feeling, yet how fair!
In spite of all, the Universal Glow,
In spite of all the streets on fire with woe
And faces pale and haggard all-a-row,
Though to prepare
Reaction runs the feeling, yet how fair!
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