 | Poems and Dramas by "Fiona MacLeod" (William Sharp) |  |
57
CLOSING DOORS
59
CLOSING DOORS
O sands of my heart, what wind moans low along thy shadowy shore?
Is that the deep sea-heart I hear with the dying sob at its core?
Each dim lost wave that lapses is like a closing door:
'Tis closing doors they hear at last who soon shall hear no more,
Who soon shall hear no more.
Is that the deep sea-heart I hear with the dying sob at its core?
Each dim lost wave that lapses is like a closing door:
'Tis closing doors they hear at last who soon shall hear no more,
Who soon shall hear no more.
Eilidh, Eilidh, Eilidh, call low, come back, call low to me:
My heart you have broken, your troth forsaken, but love even yet can be:
Come near, call low, for closing doors are as the waves o' the sea,
Once closed they are closed for ever, Eilidh, lost, lost, for thee and me,
Lost, lost, for thee and me.
My heart you have broken, your troth forsaken, but love even yet can be:
Come near, call low, for closing doors are as the waves o' the sea,
Once closed they are closed for ever, Eilidh, lost, lost, for thee and me,
Lost, lost, for thee and me.
60
AT THE LAST
She cometh no more:Time, too, is dead.
The last tide is led
From the last shore.
Eternity ...
What is Eternity?
But the sea coming,
The sea going,
For evermore.
61
IN THE SHADOW
O she will have the deep dark heart, for all her face is fair;
As deep and dark as though beneath the shadow of her hair:
For in her hair a spirit dwells that no white spirit is,
And hell is in the hopeless heaven of that lost spirit's kiss.
As deep and dark as though beneath the shadow of her hair:
For in her hair a spirit dwells that no white spirit is,
And hell is in the hopeless heaven of that lost spirit's kiss.
She has two men within the palm, the hollow of her hand:
She takes their souls and blows them forth as idle drifted sand:
And one falls back upon her breast that is his quiet home,
And one goes out into the night and is as wind-blown foam.
She takes their souls and blows them forth as idle drifted sand:
And one falls back upon her breast that is his quiet home,
And one goes out into the night and is as wind-blown foam.
And when she sees the sleep of one, ofttimes she rises there
And looks into the outer dark and calleth soft and fair:
And then the lost soul that afar within the dark doth roam
Comes laughing, laughing, laughing, and crying, Home! Home!
And looks into the outer dark and calleth soft and fair:
62
Comes laughing, laughing, laughing, and crying, Home! Home!
There is no home in faithless love, O fool that deems her fair:
Bitter and drear that home you seek, the name of it, Despair:
Drown, drown beneath the sterile kiss of the engulfing wave,
A heaven of peace it is beside this mockery of a grave.
Bitter and drear that home you seek, the name of it, Despair:
Drown, drown beneath the sterile kiss of the engulfing wave,
A heaven of peace it is beside this mockery of a grave.
63
THE STAR OF BEAUTY
It dwells not in the skies,
My Star of Beauty!
'Twas made of her sighs,
Her tears and agonies,
The fire in her eyes,
My Star of Beauty!
My Star of Beauty!
'Twas made of her sighs,
Her tears and agonies,
The fire in her eyes,
My Star of Beauty!
Lovely and delicate,
My Star of Beauty!
How could she master Fate,
Although she gave back hate
Great as my love was great,
My Star of Beauty!
My Star of Beauty!
How could she master Fate,
Although she gave back hate
Great as my love was great,
My Star of Beauty!
I loved, she hated, well:
My Star of Beauty!
Soon, soon the passing bell:
She rose, and I fell:
Soft shines in deeps of hell
My Star of Beauty!
My Star of Beauty!
Soon, soon the passing bell:
She rose, and I fell:
Soft shines in deeps of hell
My Star of Beauty!
64
AN OLD TALE OF THREE
Ah, bonnie darling, lift your dark eyes dreaming!
See, the firelight fills the gloaming, though deep darkness grows without—
See, the firelight fills the gloaming, though deep darkness grows without—
[Hush, dear, hush, I hear the sea-birds screaming,
And down beyond the haven the tide comes with a shout!]
And down beyond the haven the tide comes with a shout!]
Ah, birdeen, sweetheart, sure he is not coming,
He who has your hand in his, while I have all your heart—
He who has your hand in his, while I have all your heart—
[Hush, dear, hush, I hear the wild bees humming
Far away in the underworld where true love shall not part!]
Far away in the underworld where true love shall not part!]
Darling, darling, darling, all the world is singing,
Singing, singing, singing a song of joy for me!
Singing, singing, singing a song of joy for me!
65
[Hush, dear, hush, what wild sea-wind is bringing
Gloom o' the sea about thy brow, athwart the eyes of thee?]
Gloom o' the sea about thy brow, athwart the eyes of thee?]
Ah, heart o' me, darling, darling, all my heart's aflame!
Sure, at the last we are all in all, all in all we two!
At the Door
Sure, at the last we are all in all, all in all we two!
A Voice
This is the way I take my own, this is the boon I claim!
Sure at the last, ye are all in all, all in all, ye two—
(Later, in the dark, the living brooding beside the dead:—)
Ah, hell of my heart! Ye are dust to me— and dust with dust may woo!
66
THE BURTHEN OF THE TIDE
The tide was dark an' heavy with the burden that it bore,
I heard it talkin', whisperin', upon the weedy shore:
Each wave that stirred the sea-weed was like a closing door,
'Tis closing doors they hear at last who hear no more, no more,
My Grief,
No more!
I heard it talkin', whisperin', upon the weedy shore:
Each wave that stirred the sea-weed was like a closing door,
'Tis closing doors they hear at last who hear no more, no more,
My Grief,
No more!
The tide was in the salt sea-weed, and like a knife it tore,
The hoarse sea-wind went moaning, sooing, moaning o'er and o'er,
The wild sea-heart was brooding deep upon its ancient lore,
I heard the sob, the sooing sob, the dying sob at its core,
My Grief,
Its core!
The hoarse sea-wind went moaning, sooing, moaning o'er and o'er,
The wild sea-heart was brooding deep upon its ancient lore,
I heard the sob, the sooing sob, the dying sob at its core,
My Grief,
Its core!
67
The white sea-waves were wan and grey its ashy lips before;
The whirled spume between its jaws in floods did seaward pour—
O whisperin' weed, O wild sea-waves, O hollow baffled roar,
Since one thou hast, O dark dim Sea, why callest thou for more,
My Grief,
For more.
The whirled spume between its jaws in floods did seaward pour—
O whisperin' weed, O wild sea-waves, O hollow baffled roar,
Since one thou hast, O dark dim Sea, why callest thou for more,
My Grief,
For more.
68
WHEN THE DEW IS FALLING
When the dew is falling
I have heard a calling
Of aerial sweet voices o'er the low green hill;
And when the noon is dying
I have heard a crying
Where the brown burn slippeth thro' the hollows green and still.
I have heard a calling
Of aerial sweet voices o'er the low green hill;
And when the noon is dying
I have heard a crying
Where the brown burn slippeth thro' the hollows green and still.
And O the sorrow upon me,
The grey grief upon me,
For a voice that whispered once, and now for aye is still:
O heart forsaken, calling
When the dew is falling,
To the one that comes not ever o'er the low green hill.
The grey grief upon me,
For a voice that whispered once, and now for aye is still:
O heart forsaken, calling
When the dew is falling,
To the one that comes not ever o'er the low green hill.
69
THE VOICE AMONG THE DUNES
I have heard the sea-wind sighing
Where the dune-grasses grow,
The sighing of the dying
Where the salt tides flow.
Where the dune-grasses grow,
The sighing of the dying
Where the salt tides flow.
For where the salt tides flow
The sullen dead are lifting
Tired arms, and to and fro
Are idly drifting.
The sullen dead are lifting
Tired arms, and to and fro
Are idly drifting.
So through the grey dune-grasses
Not the wind only cries,
But a dim sea-wrought Shadow
Breathes drownëd sighs.
Not the wind only cries,
But a dim sea-wrought Shadow
Breathes drownëd sighs.
70
THE UNDERSONG
I hear the sea-song of the blood in my heart,
I hear the sea-song of the blood in my ears:
And I am far apart,
And lost in the years.
I hear the sea-song of the blood in my ears:
And I am far apart,
And lost in the years.
But when I lie and dream of that which was
Before the first man's shadow flitted on the grass,
I am stricken dumb
With sense of that to come.
Before the first man's shadow flitted on the grass,
I am stricken dumb
With sense of that to come.
Is then this wildering sea-song but a part
Of the old song of the mystery of the years—
Or only the echo of the tired heart
And of tears?
Of the old song of the mystery of the years—
Or only the echo of the tired heart
And of tears?
71
DEAD LOVE
FROM THE GAELIC
It is the grey rock I am,
And grey rain on the rock:
It is the grey wave ...
That grey hound.
And grey rain on the rock:
It is the grey wave ...
That grey hound.
What (is it) to be old:
(It is to be as) the grey moss in winter:
Alasdair-mo-ghaol,
It is long since my laughter.
(It is to be as) the grey moss in winter:
Alasdair-mo-ghaol,
It is long since my laughter.
Alasdair-mo-ghaol,
The breast is shrivelled
That you said was white
As canna in wind.
The breast is shrivelled
That you said was white
As canna in wind.
72
THE SOUL'S ARMAGEDDON
I know not where I go,
O Wind that calls afar:
O Wind that calls for war,
Where the Death-Moon doth glow
In a darkness without star.
O Wind that calls afar:
O Wind that calls for war,
Where the Death-Moon doth glow
In a darkness without star.
Nor do I know the blare
Of the bugles that call:
Nor who rise, nor who fall:
Nor if the torches flare
Where the gods laugh, or crawl.
Of the bugles that call:
Nor who rise, nor who fall:
Nor if the torches flare
Where the gods laugh, or crawl.
But I hear, I hear the hum,
The multitudinous cry,
Where myriads fly,
And I hear a voice say, Come:
And the same voice say, Die!
The multitudinous cry,
Where myriads fly,
And I hear a voice say, Come:
And the same voice say, Die!
What is the war, O Wind?
Lo, without shield or spear
How can I draw it near?
I am deaf and dumb and blind
With immeasurable fear.
Lo, without shield or spear
How can I draw it near?
I am deaf and dumb and blind
With immeasurable fear.
73
DAY AND NIGHT
From grey of dusk, the veils unfold
To pearl and amethyst and gold—
Thus is the new day woven and spun:
To pearl and amethyst and gold—
Thus is the new day woven and spun:
From glory of blue to rainbow-spray,
From sunset-gold to violet-grey—
Thus is the restful night re-won.
From sunset-gold to violet-grey—
Thus is the restful night re-won.
74
THE WHITE PEACE
It lies not on the sunlit hill
Nor on the sunlit plain:
Nor ever on any running stream
Nor on the unclouded main—
Nor on the sunlit plain:
Nor ever on any running stream
Nor on the unclouded main—
But sometimes, through the Soul of Man,
Slow moving o'er his pain,
The moonlight of a perfect peace
Floods heart and brain.
Slow moving o'er his pain,
The moonlight of a perfect peace
Floods heart and brain.
75
THE LOST STAR
A star was loosed from heaven;
All saw it fall, in wonder,
Where universe clashed universe
With solar thunder.
All saw it fall, in wonder,
Where universe clashed universe
With solar thunder.
The angels praised God's glory,
To send this beacon-flare
To show the terror of darkness
Beneath the Golden Stair.
To send this beacon-flare
To show the terror of darkness
Beneath the Golden Stair.
But God was brooding only
Upon new births of light;
The star was a drop of water
On the lips of Eternal Light.
Upon new births of light;
The star was a drop of water
On the lips of Eternal Light.
76
THE RUNE OF AGE
O thou that on the hills and wastes of Night art Shepherd,
Whose folds are flameless moons and icy planets,
Whose darkling way is gloomed with ancient sorrows:
Whose breath lies white as snow upon the olden,
Whose sigh it is that furrows breasts grown milkless,
Whose weariness is in the loins of man
And is the barren stillness of the woman:
O thou whom all would flee, and all must meet,
Thou that the Shadow art of Youth Eternal,
The gloom that is the hush'd air of the Grave,
The sigh that is between last parted love,
The light for aye withdrawing from weary eyes,
The tide from stricken hearts for ever ebbing!
Whose folds are flameless moons and icy planets,
Whose darkling way is gloomed with ancient sorrows:
Whose breath lies white as snow upon the olden,
Whose sigh it is that furrows breasts grown milkless,
Whose weariness is in the loins of man
And is the barren stillness of the woman:
O thou whom all would flee, and all must meet,
Thou that the Shadow art of Youth Eternal,
The gloom that is the hush'd air of the Grave,
The sigh that is between last parted love,
The light for aye withdrawing from weary eyes,
The tide from stricken hearts for ever ebbing!
77
O thou the Elder Brother whom none loveth,
Whom all men hail with reverence or mocking,
Who broodest on the brows of frozen summits
Yet dreamest in the eyes of babes and children:
Thou, Shadow of the Heart, the Mind, the Life,
Who art that dusk What-is that is already Has-Been,
To thee this rune of the fathers to the sons
And of the sons to the sons, and mothers to new mothers—
To thee who art Aois,
To thee who art Age!
Whom all men hail with reverence or mocking,
Who broodest on the brows of frozen summits
Yet dreamest in the eyes of babes and children:
Thou, Shadow of the Heart, the Mind, the Life,
Who art that dusk What-is that is already Has-Been,
To thee this rune of the fathers to the sons
And of the sons to the sons, and mothers to new mothers—
To thee who art Aois,
To thee who art Age!
Breathe thy frosty breath upon my hair, for I am weary!
Lay thy frozen hand upon my bones that they support not,
Put thy chill upon the blood that it sustain not;
Place the crown of thy fulfilling on my forehead;
Throw the silence of thy spirit on my spirit;
Lay the balm and benediction of thy mercy
On the brain-throb and the heart-pulse and the life-spring—
For thy child that bows his head is weary,
For thy child that bows his head is weary.
I the shadow am that seeks the Darkness.
Age, that hath the face of Night unstarr'd and moonless,
Age, that doth extinguish star and planet,
Moon and sun and all the fiery worlds,
Give me now thy darkness and thy silence!
Lay thy frozen hand upon my bones that they support not,
Put thy chill upon the blood that it sustain not;
Place the crown of thy fulfilling on my forehead;
Throw the silence of thy spirit on my spirit;
Lay the balm and benediction of thy mercy
On the brain-throb and the heart-pulse and the life-spring—
For thy child that bows his head is weary,
For thy child that bows his head is weary.
78
Age, that hath the face of Night unstarr'd and moonless,
Age, that doth extinguish star and planet,
Moon and sun and all the fiery worlds,
Give me now thy darkness and thy silence!
79
DESIRE
The desire of love, Joy:The desire of life, Peace:
The desire of the soul, Heaven:
The desire of God ... a flame-white secret for ever.
| Poems and Dramas by "Fiona MacLeod" (William Sharp) | |