 |
|
|
| 1. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
THY GARDEN. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
THY GARDEN.
I.
Pure moonlight in thy garden, sweet, to-night, —
Pure moonlight in thy garden, and the breath
Of fragrant roses! O my heart's delight,
Wed thou with Love, but I will wed with Death.
Pure moonlight in thy garden, and the breath
Of fragrant roses! O my heart's delight,
Wed thou with Love, but I will wed with Death.
Peace in thy garden, and the passionate song
Of some late nightingale that sings in June!
Thy dreams with promises of love are strong,
And all thy life is set to one sweet tune.
Of some late nightingale that sings in June!
Thy dreams with promises of love are strong,
And all thy life is set to one sweet tune.
Love wandering round thy garden, O my sweet!
Love walking through thy garden in the night, —
Far-off I feel his wings, I hear his feet,
I see the eyes that set the world alight.
Love walking through thy garden in the night, —
Far-off I feel his wings, I hear his feet,
I see the eyes that set the world alight.
My sad heart in thy garden strays alone, —
My heart among all hearts companionless;
Between the roses and the lilies thrown,
It finds thy garden but a wilderness.
My heart among all hearts companionless;
Between the roses and the lilies thrown,
It finds thy garden but a wilderness.
Great quiet in thy garden, now the song
Of that last nightingale has died away!
Here jangling city-chimes the silence wrong;
But in thy garden perfect rest has sway.
Of that last nightingale has died away!
Here jangling city-chimes the silence wrong;
But in thy garden perfect rest has sway.
212
Dawn in thy garden, with the faintest sound, —
Uncertain, tremulous, awaking birds!
Dawn in thy garden, and from meadows round,
The sudden lowing of expectant herds.
Uncertain, tremulous, awaking birds!
Dawn in thy garden, and from meadows round,
The sudden lowing of expectant herds.
Light in thy garden, faint and sweet and pure,
Dim noise of birds from every bush and tree,
Rumors of song the stars may not endure,
A rain that falls, and ceases suddenly!
Dim noise of birds from every bush and tree,
Rumors of song the stars may not endure,
A rain that falls, and ceases suddenly!
Morn in thy garden, bright and keen and strong!
Love calls thee from thy garden to awake:
Morn in thy garden, with the articulate song
Of birds that sing for love and warm light's sake!
Love calls thee from thy garden to awake:
Morn in thy garden, with the articulate song
Of birds that sing for love and warm light's sake!
II.
Wind in thy garden to-night, my love,
Wind in thy garden and rain;
A sound of storm in the shaken grove,
And cries as of spirits in pain!
Wind in thy garden and rain;
A sound of storm in the shaken grove,
And cries as of spirits in pain!
If there's wind in thy garden outside,
And troublous darkness, dear,
What carest thou, an elected bride,
And the bridal hour so near?
And troublous darkness, dear,
What carest thou, an elected bride,
And the bridal hour so near?
All things come to an end, my sweet, —
Life, and the pleasure in living;
The years run swiftly with agile feet,
The years that are taking and giving.
Life, and the pleasure in living;
The years run swiftly with agile feet,
The years that are taking and giving.
Soon shalt thou have thy bliss supreme,
And soon shall it pass away;
So turn thyself to thy rest, and dream,
Nor heed what the mad winds say.
And soon shall it pass away;
So turn thyself to thy rest, and dream,
Nor heed what the mad winds say.
213
III.
Snow in thy garden, falling thick and fast, —
Snow in thy garden, where the grass shall be!
What dreams to-night? Thy dreaming nights are past, —
Thou hast no glad or grievous memory.
Snow in thy garden, where the grass shall be!
What dreams to-night? Thy dreaming nights are past, —
Thou hast no glad or grievous memory.
Love in thy garden boweth down his head;
His tears are falling on the wind-piled snow;
He takes no heed of life, now thou art dead;
He recks not how the seasons come or go.
His tears are falling on the wind-piled snow;
He takes no heed of life, now thou art dead;
He recks not how the seasons come or go.
Death in thy garden! In the violent air
That sweeps thy radiant garden thou art still;
For thee is no more rapture or despair,
And Love and Death of thee have had their will.
That sweeps thy radiant garden thou art still;
For thee is no more rapture or despair,
And Love and Death of thee have had their will.
Night in thy garden, white with snow and sleet, —
Night, rushing on with wind and storm toward day!
Alas, thy garden holdeth nothing sweet;
Nor sweet can come again, and thou away!
Night, rushing on with wind and storm toward day!
Alas, thy garden holdeth nothing sweet;
Nor sweet can come again, and thou away!
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |