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63
II. PART II
OTHER POEMS
65
A GOLDEN DROP
You ask me for a drop of golden wine:
Perchance from Lethe grapes in Circe's cup?
Or Samian that Anacreon held up
In his last toast, all crowned with rose and pine?
Or is it from Khayyâm's great dreamy vine?
Or poison trickle from a Borgian sup?
Or that last joyous and untasted drop
Which Thule's King flung sorrowing in the brine?
Perchance from Lethe grapes in Circe's cup?
Or Samian that Anacreon held up
In his last toast, all crowned with rose and pine?
Or is it from Khayyâm's great dreamy vine?
Or poison trickle from a Borgian sup?
Or that last joyous and untasted drop
Which Thule's King flung sorrowing in the brine?
There is a chalice all of chasèd gold
Wherein the Poet's magic wine drops stand,
Pressed from the grapes of Heaven one by one:
A sacramental chalice which of old
Some sonnet-goldsmith wrought with cunning hand:
Each drop is topaz flashing in the Sun.
Wherein the Poet's magic wine drops stand,
Pressed from the grapes of Heaven one by one:
A sacramental chalice which of old
Some sonnet-goldsmith wrought with cunning hand:
Each drop is topaz flashing in the Sun.
E.
66
A ROMAN LAKE
We stood by Nemi's lake, where, seen by none,
Tiberius' galley lies, half changed to coal,
Hid in deep fathoms, while the ages roll
Over the waters slowly, one by one.
We stood there by the lake and watched the sun
Pour purple like red wine into a bowl,
Until the hills grew wan, as when the soul
Parts from the body and its day is done.
Tiberius' galley lies, half changed to coal,
Hid in deep fathoms, while the ages roll
Over the waters slowly, one by one.
We stood there by the lake and watched the sun
Pour purple like red wine into a bowl,
Until the hills grew wan, as when the soul
Parts from the body and its day is done.
Oh, who can tell what lieth deep below
The Future's surface, whether grey and cold,
Or flushed with purple, like the even's glow?
We can but drink to hope scarce one day old,
In such red wine as Hesperus pours now
From his eternal amphora of gold.
The Future's surface, whether grey and cold,
Or flushed with purple, like the even's glow?
We can but drink to hope scarce one day old,
In such red wine as Hesperus pours now
From his eternal amphora of gold.
E.
67
IN HADRIAN'S VILLA
I
I stand amid a world of shattered walls
In the great shadow of eternal Wings,
Where human lives, and man's fast-fleeting things
Shrink into insect size and Time appals.
And in these rock-like tesselated halls
Where wild birds sing 'mid ilex murmurings,
While dance the sun-flecks that some stone-pine flings,
I pick the violets that the young spring calls.
In the great shadow of eternal Wings,
Where human lives, and man's fast-fleeting things
Shrink into insect size and Time appals.
And in these rock-like tesselated halls
Where wild birds sing 'mid ilex murmurings,
While dance the sun-flecks that some stone-pine flings,
I pick the violets that the young spring calls.
The tiny cubes of white mosaic strew
The ground like dice, which unremembered Years
On Death's forgotten board for empire threw;
And all around, the hills, in dreamy tiers
Stand as when Hadrian watched them, faint and blue
And reck not of man's useless hopes and fears.
The ground like dice, which unremembered Years
On Death's forgotten board for empire threw;
And all around, the hills, in dreamy tiers
Stand as when Hadrian watched them, faint and blue
And reck not of man's useless hopes and fears.
E.
68
IN HADRIAN'S VILLA
II
The fane is ruined and its gods have fled;
Through court and grove now strays the lonely breeze,—
Spring's wayward child that never knoweth ease,—
Flinging shrill questionings to quick and dead.
Nor answer comes; but where his feet have sped
Burgeon the ilex and the olive trees;
And some Apollo on his shattered knees
Hears the young violet pierce his ivy bed.
Through court and grove now strays the lonely breeze,—
Spring's wayward child that never knoweth ease,—
Flinging shrill questionings to quick and dead.
Nor answer comes; but where his feet have sped
Burgeon the ilex and the olive trees;
And some Apollo on his shattered knees
Hears the young violet pierce his ivy bed.
Man's soul in vast and lonely halls doth rove;
His years have known of bitterness their sum,
He asks his gods of Faith and Hope and Love,
“Where do I go? and whence is it I come?”
Life writes its yearly message in the grove,
But every empty oracle is dumb.
His years have known of bitterness their sum,
He asks his gods of Faith and Hope and Love,
“Where do I go? and whence is it I come?”
Life writes its yearly message in the grove,
But every empty oracle is dumb.
A.
69
AT VENICE
So now she stands by Glory's great sea-grave
And has the first fair vision of that shrine
Where it lies sainted with its smile divine,
Rubied in sunset, em'ralded in wave;
Where the stones whisper of the masques they gave
Of argosy and pageant, line on line;
Till we are drunk with splendour as with wine
In that broad street which molten beryls pave.
And has the first fair vision of that shrine
Where it lies sainted with its smile divine,
Rubied in sunset, em'ralded in wave;
Where the stones whisper of the masques they gave
Of argosy and pageant, line on line;
Till we are drunk with splendour as with wine
In that broad street which molten beryls pave.
I wonder if she thinks of me at whiles,
Or only of the dim Byzantine gold
And time-stained fronts, and seaweed-covered piles?
And if a corner of her heart doth hold
Something besides a dream of the crowned isles
That ruled the sunrise and its waves of old?
Or only of the dim Byzantine gold
And time-stained fronts, and seaweed-covered piles?
And if a corner of her heart doth hold
Something besides a dream of the crowned isles
That ruled the sunrise and its waves of old?
E.
70
ON A RENAISSANCE MANTELPIECE
A beetling mantelpiece of carven stone
With doves and cupids and the tendrilled vine
Sculptured of old; where mighty logs of pine
Yield ruddy flames, while outer tempests moan;
An ample hearth, where, in the days long gone
Warrior and bard and dame of royal line
Drank the mulled ale or poured the scalded wine
And told old saws of forests wild and lone.
With doves and cupids and the tendrilled vine
Sculptured of old; where mighty logs of pine
Yield ruddy flames, while outer tempests moan;
An ample hearth, where, in the days long gone
Warrior and bard and dame of royal line
Drank the mulled ale or poured the scalded wine
And told old saws of forests wild and lone.
O sweet, I crave such shelter from the storm,
Such cheering warmth, such comfortable cup
Beneath the ample mantel of thy love.
There would I sit, where all is bright and warm
And watch the dancing flame, which, leaping up,
Will glow on the carved tendril and the dove.
Such cheering warmth, such comfortable cup
Beneath the ample mantel of thy love.
There would I sit, where all is bright and warm
And watch the dancing flame, which, leaping up,
Will glow on the carved tendril and the dove.
E.
71
ROTHENBURG
I
A dream of gables and of olden days;
Of dragon-crested fountains, knights on tombs;
Of leaded panes, huge beakers, dungeon glooms;
Of banners, Gothic signboards, low-arched ways;
Of guilds, of 'prentices, of city frays;
Of patient armourers in raftered rooms;
Of weavers bending over household looms;
Of particoloured knaves; of mystery plays.
Of dragon-crested fountains, knights on tombs;
Of leaded panes, huge beakers, dungeon glooms;
Of banners, Gothic signboards, low-arched ways;
Of guilds, of 'prentices, of city frays;
Of patient armourers in raftered rooms;
Of weavers bending over household looms;
Of particoloured knaves; of mystery plays.
Ay, ay, a dream: and in the city square
A spectre soldiery, and phantom men,
Women, and children, kneeling as in prayer
Before a phantom Tilly, sitting there
On ghostly steed. ... And see, as even then
Dark doom is in his eyes; in theirs despair.
A spectre soldiery, and phantom men,
Women, and children, kneeling as in prayer
Before a phantom Tilly, sitting there
On ghostly steed. ... And see, as even then
Dark doom is in his eyes; in theirs despair.
E.
72
ROTHENBERG
II
The old town dreams at noon; each empty sill
Stares blankly like the eyeballs of the dead.
Grey wall and gable, roof of faded red,
Rampart and tower the silent distance fill.
St. George upon the fountain charges still;
The water splashes in its sculptured bed;
But hum of guild is hushed, the 'prentice fled,
Vanished the weaver's art, the carver's skill.
Stares blankly like the eyeballs of the dead.
Grey wall and gable, roof of faded red,
Rampart and tower the silent distance fill.
St. George upon the fountain charges still;
The water splashes in its sculptured bed;
But hum of guild is hushed, the 'prentice fled,
Vanished the weaver's art, the carver's skill.
The Rath-haus dial lengthens with the day;
Across the sunset comes a sound of song;
The street wakes to the footfall of a throng
Of little maids green-garlanded and gay;
And all the old years, and the dead, dead long,
Troop back to life, and join the children's play.
Across the sunset comes a sound of song;
The street wakes to the footfall of a throng
Of little maids green-garlanded and gay;
And all the old years, and the dead, dead long,
Troop back to life, and join the children's play.
A.
73
LO, WHAT IS LOVE?
Lo, what is love? A dreamer in a sleep,
Who dreaming sees, though waking still is blind;
He sees the yellow sheaves the reapers bind;
He hears the song that rises as they reap.
Lo, what is love? A toiler on a steep,
Who upward strains where lonely pathways wind
To reach the summit never foot may find,
To catch the song no mortal ear may keep.
Who dreaming sees, though waking still is blind;
He sees the yellow sheaves the reapers bind;
He hears the song that rises as they reap.
Lo, what is love? A toiler on a steep,
Who upward strains where lonely pathways wind
To reach the summit never foot may find,
To catch the song no mortal ear may keep.
Lo, what is love? A shell upon the sands
Whose tenants are the echo and the breeze;
But he who takes it, listening, in his hands
Shall hear the murmur of eternal seas;
The voice of stars that sing o'er harvest lands,
The music vast of human mysteries.
Whose tenants are the echo and the breeze;
But he who takes it, listening, in his hands
Shall hear the murmur of eternal seas;
The voice of stars that sing o'er harvest lands,
The music vast of human mysteries.
A.
74
QUEEN O' THE YEAR
Comes in her splendour
The year's fairest comer;
Make way before her!
Greeting—O Summer!
The year's fairest comer;
Make way before her!
Greeting—O Summer!
There, where the starlight
Throws shadows of amber,
Her bright yellow cohorts
Of crocuses clamber.
Throws shadows of amber,
Her bright yellow cohorts
Of crocuses clamber.
Where the moon shivers
The gloom of the river,
The silvery circles
Of lily-lamps quiver.
The gloom of the river,
75
Of lily-lamps quiver.
Where the thrush whistles
His praise of her power,
Laburnums have lighted,
The bough is a-flower.
His praise of her power,
Laburnums have lighted,
The bough is a-flower.
Where the red dawn-glow
Under the rays is,
The hills and the hollows
Are bright with the daisies.
Under the rays is,
The hills and the hollows
Are bright with the daisies.
Where aspen branches
Blue skies are rifting,
Over the bars of grass
Blue-bells are drifting.
Blue skies are rifting,
Over the bars of grass
Blue-bells are drifting.
76
Day's happy children
Surround her with dances;
Smiling and curtseying,
Summer advances.
Surround her with dances;
Smiling and curtseying,
Summer advances.
A.
77
TO AN OLD GARDEN
Old-fashioned Garden where bloom for the bee
Sober sweet flowers,
For our whisperings give her and me
One of thy hours.
Sober sweet flowers,
For our whisperings give her and me
One of thy hours.
Here, where hath blossomed so many a kiss
Old and forgotten,
Give us a seat for the latest that this
Year hath begotten.
Old and forgotten,
Give us a seat for the latest that this
Year hath begotten.
Here, in thy paths that are tidy and quaint,
Presences linger
Like the songs written in ink that is faint
Once, by dead finger.
Presences linger
78
Once, by dead finger.
Hollyhocks purple and marigolds red,
You will be living,
When, like the others, we two shall be dead,
No kisses giving.
You will be living,
When, like the others, we two shall be dead,
No kisses giving.
Therefore forgive us the rapture and thrill,
Garden that lastest,
While overhead fly the pinions that chill,
Silently, fastest.
Garden that lastest,
While overhead fly the pinions that chill,
Silently, fastest.
Give us the breath of thy sweetness and charm
Only an hour;
Ah, could I hold her with sheltering arm
Out of Time's power!
Only an hour;
Ah, could I hold her with sheltering arm
Out of Time's power!
E.
79
SCHLÜSSEL-BLUME
Oh, Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the spring;
The meadows are dusted gold,
The lark is high on the wing,
And his song bright notes doth fling
Like living stars on the wold:
Oh Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the spring.
The golden key of the spring;
The meadows are dusted gold,
The lark is high on the wing,
And his song bright notes doth fling
Like living stars on the wold:
Oh Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the spring.
But the day is wintry cold,
And the lark no more can sing;
The meadows in mist are stoled,
Your heart is locked to its King.
Oh, Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the Spring.
And the lark no more can sing;
80
Your heart is locked to its King.
Oh, Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the Spring.
A.
81
NEW LIFE
Alas for the heart where no love may spring!
(Oh, the wind blows keen from the north!)
For the empty nest and the broken wing.
(Oh, the breath of the frost goes forth!)
For the bird that nevermore song shall sing,
And the desolate days of earth.
(Oh, the wind blows keen from the north!)
For the empty nest and the broken wing.
(Oh, the breath of the frost goes forth!)
For the bird that nevermore song shall sing,
And the desolate days of earth.
Under the snowdrifts the blossoms awake;
(Oh, the wind comes up from the east!)
And forth from the prison of winter break,
For the voice of the storm hath ceased.
Arouse thee, my heart, and love's new life take,
As winds take the perfumes, and feast.
(Oh, the wind comes up from the east!)
82
For the voice of the storm hath ceased.
Arouse thee, my heart, and love's new life take,
As winds take the perfumes, and feast.
A.
83
SHADOWS
The future years are in the glad To-day
As summer glooms are in the spring's young green,
As manhood hides within the child unseen;
The solemn portents lurk in hours of play.
As summer glooms are in the spring's young green,
As manhood hides within the child unseen;
The solemn portents lurk in hours of play.
As summer glooms are in the spring's young green,
In folds of mirth dark thoughts are hid away;
The solemn portents lurk in hours of play,
Though joy beguile us with irradiant mien.
In folds of mirth dark thoughts are hid away;
The solemn portents lurk in hours of play,
Though joy beguile us with irradiant mien.
In folds of mirth dark thoughts are hid away.
Oh fools, that on To-day's assurance lean!
Though joy beguile us with irradiant mien,
The shadows lengthen on the sunlit way.
Oh fools, that on To-day's assurance lean!
84
The shadows lengthen on the sunlit way.
Oh fools, that on To-day's assurance lean!
Dust claims its dust, strive how the spirit may;
The shadows lengthen on the sunlit way;
We are but what dead dust has long while been.
Dust claims its dust, strive how the spirit may;
The shadows lengthen on the sunlit way;
We are but what dead dust has long while been.
A.
85
LOVE-LIES-A-BLEEDING
In the old garden-path
Sorely care needing,
Fadeth a plant away:
“Love-lies-a-bleeding.”
Sorely care needing,
Fadeth a plant away:
“Love-lies-a-bleeding.”
In the old manor-house,
Listless, scarce heeding,
Fadeth a life away;
“Love-lies-a-bleeding.”
Listless, scarce heeding,
Fadeth a life away;
“Love-lies-a-bleeding.”
E.
86
WILD-ROSE HEDGES
Down the lane the lady comes,
Between the wild-rose fences;
In the field Sir Ronald hums
A song of love's pretences.
Between the wild-rose fences;
In the field Sir Ronald hums
A song of love's pretences.
In the lane the lady stays,
Hearkening to the singing;
In the field the knight delays
To pluck the blossom springing.
Hearkening to the singing;
In the field the knight delays
To pluck the blossom springing.
Fast the leafy pulses beat
For the blinded mortals
Passing with unheeding feet
Love's wide-open portals.
For the blinded mortals
Passing with unheeding feet
Love's wide-open portals.
87
Living hedges thus divide
Lovers made for mating;
Thorn and blossom still must hide
Hearts each other waiting.
Lovers made for mating;
Thorn and blossom still must hide
Hearts each other waiting.
Knight and lady did not meet,
Forth together faring;
Hers a song of bitter-sweet,
His a flower for wearing.
Forth together faring;
Hers a song of bitter-sweet,
His a flower for wearing.
A.
88
LITTLE LOVE-SONG
I love you as the bee that sipsThe flower's lips—
I love you as the summer grasses
Adore the sighing breeze that passes
Their waving tips—
I love you as the streams the Sun
That makes them sparkle as they run,
And turns the pebbles that they hold
To lumps of gold;
And every day
That you're away
Is dull and weary, sad and cold.
E.
89
LOVE, THE REAPER
Where the keen scythes pass
Through the seeded grass,
And the lark's nest lurks in green;
When the hay is spread
For the summer's bed,
Love the reaper reaps unseen.
Through the seeded grass,
And the lark's nest lurks in green;
When the hay is spread
For the summer's bed,
Love the reaper reaps unseen.
Where sickles flash white
Through the long daylight,
And the bending gleaners glean;
When a fledgeling brood
Seeks the sheltering wood,
Love the reaper reaps unseen.
Through the long daylight,
And the bending gleaners glean;
When a fledgeling brood
Seeks the sheltering wood,
Love the reaper reaps unseen.
90
When the crescent slight
Reaps the skies at night,
And the star sheaves clustered lean;
Where the silence flings
Its silvery wings,
Love the reaper reaps unseen.
Reaps the skies at night,
And the star sheaves clustered lean;
Where the silence flings
Its silvery wings,
Love the reaper reaps unseen.
A.
91
FULFILMENT
Lo! we reach the results of life
With a hush of heart and brain
That is mute regret for the strife
We shall never know again.
With a hush of heart and brain
That is mute regret for the strife
We shall never know again.
Although we may conquering rise,
We shall look with yearning sweet,
And a smart in the sun-dimmed eyes,
To the years when we knew defeat;
We shall look with yearning sweet,
And a smart in the sun-dimmed eyes,
To the years when we knew defeat;
And the crown of the life's success
We shall wear with yearning vain
For the years of our loneliness,
And the joy we then called pain.
We shall wear with yearning vain
For the years of our loneliness,
And the joy we then called pain.
A.
92
LIFE
For Life is a song and a silence,
A rapture of mounting wings;
The scent and the tint of the sunrise,
The light that the dewdrop flings;
The pause and the leap of the fountain,
The span of the rainbow's rings;
The dream, and the sleep that is dreamless,
The blossom of countless springs.
A rapture of mounting wings;
The scent and the tint of the sunrise,
The light that the dewdrop flings;
The pause and the leap of the fountain,
The span of the rainbow's rings;
The dream, and the sleep that is dreamless,
The blossom of countless springs.
For life is a cry and a waking,
The touch of a hand unknown;
A bough that is shaken by tempest,
A harvest by aliens sown.
'Tis a bird whose wings have been broken,
A wind that waileth alone,
A Vision, a Fear, and a Wonder;
A name on a crumbling stone.
The touch of a hand unknown;
A bough that is shaken by tempest,
A harvest by aliens sown.
A wind that waileth alone,
A Vision, a Fear, and a Wonder;
A name on a crumbling stone.
But if Life hold vision of sunrise,
Or portents of night that appal;
If it moan with the moan of the storm-wind,
Or echo bird voices that call;—
Yet its song that is sung is sweeter
For tears that in silence fall,
And the anguish of Life is nobler
Than Death that has frozen all.
Or portents of night that appal;
If it moan with the moan of the storm-wind,
Or echo bird voices that call;—
Yet its song that is sung is sweeter
For tears that in silence fall,
And the anguish of Life is nobler
Than Death that has frozen all.
A.
THE END
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