 | Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson |  |
204
INCENSE
To Miss Alice Brown.
I
All the annulling clouds, that lie
Far in wait for years to come,
Shall not force me to forget
All the witcheries of home,
While in the world there linger yet
Heliotrope and mignonette:
In their scent home cannot die.
Far in wait for years to come,
Shall not force me to forget
All the witcheries of home,
While in the world there linger yet
Heliotrope and mignonette:
In their scent home cannot die.
When the delicate dewdrops gleamed
Tremulous on the early blooms;
The full sweetness of the dawn,
Gathered during twilight glooms,
Rose above the fields and lawn,
Ravishing me with fragrance, drawn
From each flower, that there had dreamed
Tremulous on the early blooms;
The full sweetness of the dawn,
Gathered during twilight glooms,
Rose above the fields and lawn,
Ravishing me with fragrance, drawn
From each flower, that there had dreamed
Then was innocent glory shed
All about the garden ground:
Gods of Helicon well had paced
By the laurels, and around
The bright lawn; nor deemed disgraced
Their high Godhead, nor misplaced
Their descent, since thither led.
All about the garden ground:
Gods of Helicon well had paced
By the laurels, and around
The bright lawn; nor deemed disgraced
Their high Godhead, nor misplaced
Their descent, since thither led.
By a maze of gossamer dew
Measured, lay the pasture leas:
Ruddy gray the sunlight glanced
Through the rippling poplar trees,
On the airy webs, where chanced
Dainty faery feet had danced
Without noise, the soft night through.
Measured, lay the pasture leas:
Ruddy gray the sunlight glanced
Through the rippling poplar trees,
205
Dainty faery feet had danced
Without noise, the soft night through.
That was morn indeed! And yet,
Gone the wondrous witchery;
Gone the charm, the enchauntment gone;
Still to aging memory
Come the scents, the lights, that shone,
That were sweet: dreams lie upon
Heliotrope and mignonette.
Gone the wondrous witchery;
Gone the charm, the enchauntment gone;
Still to aging memory
Come the scents, the lights, that shone,
That were sweet: dreams lie upon
Heliotrope and mignonette.
Stronger than remembered looks,
Nearer than old written words,
Cling the loved old fragrances;
At the matin time of birds,
Giving birth to memories:
Not one fancy perishes,
Born before we woke to books.
Nearer than old written words,
Cling the loved old fragrances;
At the matin time of birds,
Giving birth to memories:
Not one fancy perishes,
Born before we woke to books.
All will come again: once more
We shall fling our arms upon
Morning's wind, and ravish yet
All its load of incense, won
From rich wilding mignonette,
Clustered heliotrope, and wet
Meadows, O fair years of yore!
We shall fling our arms upon
Morning's wind, and ravish yet
All its load of incense, won
From rich wilding mignonette,
Clustered heliotrope, and wet
Meadows, O fair years of yore!
1887.
II
They do the will of beauty and regret,
Odours and travelling faery fragrances:
The breath of things, I never can forget,
The haunting spirit of old memories.
Gray grows the visible world; fair cadences
Break into death: sweet are the field flowers yet.
Odours and travelling faery fragrances:
The breath of things, I never can forget,
206
Gray grows the visible world; fair cadences
Break into death: sweet are the field flowers yet.
Softly at evening, hard upon twilight,
Old earth breathes balmy air on hushing winds,
And takes with ravishment the face of night.
Pensive and solitary old age finds
Calm in the vesperal, mild air, that minds
His dwindling hour, of childhood's far delight.
Old earth breathes balmy air on hushing winds,
And takes with ravishment the face of night.
Pensive and solitary old age finds
Calm in the vesperal, mild air, that minds
His dwindling hour, of childhood's far delight.
A breath, a thought, a dream! Ah, what a choir
Of long stilled voices: and of long closed eyes,
What a light! So came, so mine heart's desire
Came through the pinewood, where the sunlight dies
To-night. Since now these fragrant memories
Live, lives not also she, their soul of fire?
Of long stilled voices: and of long closed eyes,
What a light! So came, so mine heart's desire
Came through the pinewood, where the sunlight dies
To-night. Since now these fragrant memories
Live, lives not also she, their soul of fire?
1887.
| Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson | |