 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
192
VESPERS
You and I, brave thrush, together,
Tune and trim our careful note;
I with pen of grey goose-feather,
You with loud and lusty throat.
When the misty house-fronts glimmer,
In the chill reluctant dawn,
When the weary stars grow dimmer,
You awake the slumbering lawn:
Fresh and ardent, merry-hearted,
Singing, drenched with purest dew,
Thanks for tedious glooms departed,
Grace for all you mean to do.
Tune and trim our careful note;
I with pen of grey goose-feather,
You with loud and lusty throat.
When the misty house-fronts glimmer,
In the chill reluctant dawn,
When the weary stars grow dimmer,
You awake the slumbering lawn:
Fresh and ardent, merry-hearted,
Singing, drenched with purest dew,
Thanks for tedious glooms departed,
Grace for all you mean to do.
I, meanwhile, unwilling shoulder
Weighty tasks of import small;
Chide and smile, till growing bolder,
When the dusk begins to crawl,
Puff the weary winking ashes
Into shoots of livelier flame,
Greet the comfortable flashes—
Wavering hope and flickering fame—
Till the sudden conflagration
Waves its fire-flags, leaping high;
One august illumination
Lights the interminable sky.
Weighty tasks of import small;
Chide and smile, till growing bolder,
When the dusk begins to crawl,
Puff the weary winking ashes
Into shoots of livelier flame,
Greet the comfortable flashes—
Wavering hope and flickering fame—
193
Waves its fire-flags, leaping high;
One august illumination
Lights the interminable sky.
Yet, sweet bird, could I recover
What your guarded strophes told,
Hence, far hence, some happy lover
Pleased would ring my hammered gold.
Could I write the enraptured minute
Clasp the imperishable beam,
All the grace that sleeps within it,
Lilies' scent and sunset gleam;
From your airy inspiration,
I might win the inward ease,
Win serene and soft elation
Over warring destinies.
Worlds would hush to hear the story,
Could I once, but once, unfold
All the intolerable glory
That a mortal heart can hold!
What your guarded strophes told,
Hence, far hence, some happy lover
Pleased would ring my hammered gold.
Could I write the enraptured minute
Clasp the imperishable beam,
All the grace that sleeps within it,
Lilies' scent and sunset gleam;
From your airy inspiration,
I might win the inward ease,
Win serene and soft elation
Over warring destinies.
Worlds would hush to hear the story,
Could I once, but once, unfold
All the intolerable glory
That a mortal heart can hold!
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |