Flower Pieces and other poems By William Allingham: With two designs by Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
 |
|
FLOWERS AND MONTHS.
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
 |
|
|
|
 | Flower Pieces and other poems |  |
3
FLOWERS AND MONTHS.
I. DAISY.
O Daisy—‘Day's Eye’—on this New Year's Day
Opening thy circlet on our grassy mount
To greet the low-arch'd Sun far south-away,
As mystically perfect each small ray
As the vast billow of light and life whose fount,
Glorious beyond conception, yet doth count
Only as one flow'r in God's garden,—yea,
Face, little Bloom, our King-Orb, front to front.
Opening thy circlet on our grassy mount
To greet the low-arch'd Sun far south-away,
As mystically perfect each small ray
As the vast billow of light and life whose fount,
Glorious beyond conception, yet doth count
Only as one flow'r in God's garden,—yea,
Face, little Bloom, our King-Orb, front to front.
Ye both are creatures of one substance wrought
In deeps beyond our subtlest exploration,
Thence into living form and due relation
Lifted by power that works in beauty: nought
So made but with its home too in Man's thought,
Microcosm of the whole divine creation.
In deeps beyond our subtlest exploration,
Thence into living form and due relation
Lifted by power that works in beauty: nought
So made but with its home too in Man's thought,
Microcosm of the whole divine creation.
4
II. SNOWDROP.
(In Time of War.)
An old name for the Snowdrop was ‘Fair Maid of February,’ in honour of the Blessed Virgin Mary; the Feast of the Purification, otherwise called Candlemas Day, falling on the second of this month.
Fair Maid of February—drop of snow
Enchanted to a flow'r, and therewithin
A dream of April's green—who without sin
Conceived wast, but how no man may know;
I would thou mightest, being of heavenly kin,
Pray for us all (thy lips are pure, altho'
The soil be soak'd with tears and blood), to win
Some ruth for human folly, guilt and woe.
Enchanted to a flow'r, and therewithin
A dream of April's green—who without sin
Conceived wast, but how no man may know;
I would thou mightest, being of heavenly kin,
Pray for us all (thy lips are pure, altho'
The soil be soak'd with tears and blood), to win
Some ruth for human folly, guilt and woe.
A flitting phantasy and fond conceit!
Yet mark this little white-green bell, three-cleft,
Nor say of miracles the Earth's bereft.
Lo, for our comfort, here is one complete:
And after this the whole new spring-time left,
And all the roses that make summer sweet.
Yet mark this little white-green bell, three-cleft,
Nor say of miracles the Earth's bereft.
Lo, for our comfort, here is one complete:
And after this the whole new spring-time left,
And all the roses that make summer sweet.
5
III. DAFFODIL.
Gold tassel upon March's bugle-horn,
Whose blithe reveille blows from hill to hill
And every valley rings—O Daffodil!
What promise for the season newly born?
Shall wave on wave of flow'rs, full tide of corn,
O'erflow the world, then fruited Autumn fill
Hedgerow and garth? Shall tempest, blight, or chill
Turn all felicity to scathe and scorn?
Whose blithe reveille blows from hill to hill
And every valley rings—O Daffodil!
What promise for the season newly born?
Shall wave on wave of flow'rs, full tide of corn,
O'erflow the world, then fruited Autumn fill
Hedgerow and garth? Shall tempest, blight, or chill
Turn all felicity to scathe and scorn?
Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring
Lies open, writ in blossoms; not a bird
Of evil augury is seen or heard:
Come now, like Pan's old crew we'll dance and sing,
Or Oberon's; for hill and valley ring
To March's bugle-horn,—Earth's blood is stirr'd.
Lies open, writ in blossoms; not a bird
Of evil augury is seen or heard:
Come now, like Pan's old crew we'll dance and sing,
Or Oberon's; for hill and valley ring
To March's bugle-horn,—Earth's blood is stirr'd.
6
IV. PRIMROSE.
The rancour of the East Wind quell'd, a thrush
Joyfully talking on through glittering rain,
O see the yellow tufts along the lane,
Crowding the copse round every budded bush,
Dotting the dingle by its brooklet's gush,
And elm path's mossy border,—who not fain
To drink their tender sweetness, cool and fresh,
The very breath of Spring, return'd again?
Joyfully talking on through glittering rain,
O see the yellow tufts along the lane,
Crowding the copse round every budded bush,
Dotting the dingle by its brooklet's gush,
And elm path's mossy border,—who not fain
To drink their tender sweetness, cool and fresh,
The very breath of Spring, return'd again?
The Child's Flow'r, in the childhood of the year:
Our slopes and woods but yesterday were drear,
Now all the country breaks into a smile
Of Primroses, and Youth is full of cheer;
This fragrant vernal breeze in some, the while,
Waking old thoughts, unutterably dear.
Our slopes and woods but yesterday were drear,
Now all the country breaks into a smile
Of Primroses, and Youth is full of cheer;
This fragrant vernal breeze in some, the while,
Waking old thoughts, unutterably dear.
7
V. HAWTHORN.
A green world, prankt with flow'rs, and fill'd with songs;
And if our woodlands have their own May-Queen,
Surely to thee, fair May, this crown belongs,
With cluster'd pearls upon thy robe of green,
And broideries of white bloom; or all one sheen
Thou and thy maidens, worshipp'd by the throngs
In various verdure—tho' sad Yew is seen
Still with the black cloak round his ancient wrongs.
And if our woodlands have their own May-Queen,
Surely to thee, fair May, this crown belongs,
With cluster'd pearls upon thy robe of green,
And broideries of white bloom; or all one sheen
Thou and thy maidens, worshipp'd by the throngs
In various verdure—tho' sad Yew is seen
Still with the black cloak round his ancient wrongs.
Soft winds o'er sunlit grass bear news of thee.
Blue, darkening, feels the moonrise. Then, elate,
Thy coaxing Nightingales whose love is great
For thee, sweet Thorn, not sharp as feign'd to be,
Call hearts and lips—how loth to separate!—
Into the shadow of the trysting-tree.
Blue, darkening, feels the moonrise. Then, elate,
Thy coaxing Nightingales whose love is great
For thee, sweet Thorn, not sharp as feign'd to be,
Call hearts and lips—how loth to separate!—
Into the shadow of the trysting-tree.
8
VI. WILD ROSE.
Some innocent girlish Kisses by a charm
Changed to a flight of small pink Butterflies,
To waver under June's delicious skies
Across gold-sprinkled meads—the merry swarm
A smiling powerful word did next transform
To little Roses mesh'd in green, allies
Of earth and air, and everything we prize
For mirthful, gentle, delicate, and warm.
Changed to a flight of small pink Butterflies,
To waver under June's delicious skies
Across gold-sprinkled meads—the merry swarm
A smiling powerful word did next transform
To little Roses mesh'd in green, allies
Of earth and air, and everything we prize
For mirthful, gentle, delicate, and warm.
See, Rosie! sure thy sister-flow'r it is
(Rosa Sylvestris one hath named thee well);
Methinks I could imagine gloomy Dis
Whirling you, with a wildrose wreath, to—dwell
In Hades. Only one thing sweet as this,
One thing—come closer—nay, I'll never tell!
(Rosa Sylvestris one hath named thee well);
Methinks I could imagine gloomy Dis
Whirling you, with a wildrose wreath, to—dwell
In Hades. Only one thing sweet as this,
One thing—come closer—nay, I'll never tell!
9
VII. HONEYSUCKLE.
First a cloud of fragrance. Then one sees
Coronets of ivory, coral, and gold,
Full of luscious treasure for the bees,
In their hedgerow-wreathage manifold
Clustering, or outswinging at their ease,
Watching in the hayfield those who hold
Scythe and rake, or overpeering bold
Dusty wayfarers 'twixt roadside trees.
Coronets of ivory, coral, and gold,
Full of luscious treasure for the bees,
In their hedgerow-wreathage manifold
Clustering, or outswinging at their ease,
Watching in the hayfield those who hold
Scythe and rake, or overpeering bold
Dusty wayfarers 'twixt roadside trees.
Honeysuckle-scented Summer Night!
Leaves above and dewy woods around,
Save the purring nightjar not a sound,
Save the tender glowing stars no light,—
Thou hast hid thy lovers out of sight,
Bower'd, or wandering through enchanted ground.
Leaves above and dewy woods around,
Save the purring nightjar not a sound,
Save the tender glowing stars no light,—
Thou hast hid thy lovers out of sight,
Bower'd, or wandering through enchanted ground.
10
VIII. MEADOWSWEET.
Through grass, through amber'd cornfields, our slow Stream—
Fringed with its flags and reeds and rushes tall,
And Meadowsweet, the chosen from them all
By wandering children, yellow as the cream
Of those great cows—winds on as in a dream
By mill and footbridge, hamlet old and small
(Red roofs, gray tower), and sees the sunset gleam
On mullion'd windows of an ivied Hall.
Fringed with its flags and reeds and rushes tall,
And Meadowsweet, the chosen from them all
By wandering children, yellow as the cream
Of those great cows—winds on as in a dream
By mill and footbridge, hamlet old and small
(Red roofs, gray tower), and sees the sunset gleam
On mullion'd windows of an ivied Hall.
There, once upon a time, the heavy King
Trod out its perfume from the Meadowsweet,
Strown like a woman's love beneath his feet,
In stately dance or jovial banqueting,
When all was new; and in its wayfaring
Our Streamlet curved, as now, through grass and wheat.
Trod out its perfume from the Meadowsweet,
Strown like a woman's love beneath his feet,
In stately dance or jovial banqueting,
When all was new; and in its wayfaring
Our Streamlet curved, as now, through grass and wheat.
11
IX. HEATHER.
Vast barren hills and moors, cliffs over lakes,
Great headlands by the sea—a lonely land!
With Fishers' huts beside a yellow strand
Where wave on wave in foam and thunder breaks,
Or else a tranquil blue horizon takes
Sunlight and shadow. Few can understand
The poor folk's ancient tongue, sweet, simple, grand,
Wherein a dreamy old-world half awakes.
Great headlands by the sea—a lonely land!
With Fishers' huts beside a yellow strand
Where wave on wave in foam and thunder breaks,
Or else a tranquil blue horizon takes
Sunlight and shadow. Few can understand
The poor folk's ancient tongue, sweet, simple, grand,
Wherein a dreamy old-world half awakes.
And on these hills a thousand years ago
Their fathers wander'd, sun and stars for clock,
With minds to wing above and creep below;
Heard what we hear, the ocean's solemn shock,—
Saw what we see, this Heather-flow'r aglow,
Empurpling league-long slope and crested rock.
Their fathers wander'd, sun and stars for clock,
With minds to wing above and creep below;
Heard what we hear, the ocean's solemn shock,—
Saw what we see, this Heather-flow'r aglow,
Empurpling league-long slope and crested rock.
12
X. IVY.
Green leaves, green flow'rs, green berries, gothic fret
Of woven green, from year to century,—
On ground, wall, wayside, mountain-crag, old tree,
In town or wilderness, the living net
Of Ivy richly clothes bare poverty,
Adds to the stateliest house a beauty yet,
Pathos to ruin'd arch and parapet,
With cottage, church-tower, tomb, can well agree.
Of woven green, from year to century,—
On ground, wall, wayside, mountain-crag, old tree,
In town or wilderness, the living net
Of Ivy richly clothes bare poverty,
Adds to the stateliest house a beauty yet,
Pathos to ruin'd arch and parapet,
With cottage, church-tower, tomb, can well agree.
No luck misfits thee, Ivy, great or mean,
Mirthful or solemn; right for Pluto's bower,
Bacchus's jolly garland. Now, serene,
You welcome winter, choose for time to flower
The misty month when most things crouch and cower.
Green is Youth's colour. Hail, Prince Evergreen!
Mirthful or solemn; right for Pluto's bower,
Bacchus's jolly garland. Now, serene,
You welcome winter, choose for time to flower
The misty month when most things crouch and cower.
Green is Youth's colour. Hail, Prince Evergreen!
13
XI. CHRYSANTHEMUM.
The rustic family of Oxeyes claim
A royal Cousin, clad in purple and gold,
Pearl, ruby, fleecy colours such as fold
The couching sun, and with a lofty name,
Chrysanthemum—appearing bright and bold
To startle poor November with a flame
Of sumptuous flowerage, making summer tame,
And flush with Eastern pomp the dark and cold.
A royal Cousin, clad in purple and gold,
Pearl, ruby, fleecy colours such as fold
The couching sun, and with a lofty name,
Chrysanthemum—appearing bright and bold
To startle poor November with a flame
Of sumptuous flowerage, making summer tame,
And flush with Eastern pomp the dark and cold.
Voyager from Japan and broad Cathay,
The slant-eyed Yellow People love thee much
(All Humans love a flow'r), and know the way
To fix their garden favourite with fine touch
In shapes of art: how joyful we to clutch
Their gifts—but shall we clasp their hands one day
The slant-eyed Yellow People love thee much
(All Humans love a flow'r), and know the way
To fix their garden favourite with fine touch
In shapes of art: how joyful we to clutch
Their gifts—but shall we clasp their hands one day
14
XII. GORSE.
Bloom of the Common, common bloom, gold honey,
Sweet like a healthy life in every season,
Nature still grows thee, Gorse, regales her bees on
Stretches of English land, wide, windy, sunny,
Free from the fetters of that monster, Money,
Big with delusive promise full of treason;
Harbours the wren, the furzeling, and the coney,
Feeds goose and ass there,—Soul too, lord of reason.
Sweet like a healthy life in every season,
Nature still grows thee, Gorse, regales her bees on
Stretches of English land, wide, windy, sunny,
Free from the fetters of that monster, Money,
Big with delusive promise full of treason;
Harbours the wren, the furzeling, and the coney,
Feeds goose and ass there,—Soul too, lord of reason.
Wild wealth of merry May, of dim December!
Swedish Linnæus fell upon his knees
To thank with joy the Everliving Power
(No scraps of lore forbade him to remember)
Giving such wondrous beauty to a Flower,
To Man the beauty-loving eye that sees.
Swedish Linnæus fell upon his knees
To thank with joy the Everliving Power
(No scraps of lore forbade him to remember)
Giving such wondrous beauty to a Flower,
To Man the beauty-loving eye that sees.
| Flower Pieces and other poems | |