Šrift:Väiksem АаSuurem Aa
The thoughts that urge for life like pain;
For them words brim the shallow well
Like easy drops of summer rain.
And which, ah, Heaven, which is best—
The little lute for every mood,
Or, shrinking coldly from life’s test,
The heights and depths of solitude?
XXV
Prayers
Prayers that were birds winging wide,
Daring the flame of the sun,
How have you faltered and died,
Now the day’s done!
Prayers must be brave for the dark,
Strong for the chill of the star,
Fearing no fate to embark
Over the bar.
Prayers of the sun and the moon,
Prayers for the sky and the nest,
All must reach haven so soon—
Which shall reach rest?
XXVI
A South-Sea Lover Scorned
When the red coral of your lip is pale
As the bleached sea-sand, ah, wearily, wearily,
Will you behold your face, your fingers frail,
Gnarled like a wind-blown tree; your star-bright eyes
Blind as a cloudy midnight without moon.
No more fair necklaces nor scarlet dyes
Can make you cruel to men, for soon, so soon,
Your heart will bear the years—ah, wearily, wearily.
Then I, your scorn, shall still be man and chief;
Turning to free your hands so carelessly, carelessly,
You will be dead to love past all belief.
Still round the slender columns of the palm
The moon shall lie in shivering, silver pools,
Still shall the trades lash through the summer calm
While twilight with her smile the island cools
And Time forgets your presence, carelessly, carelessly.
XXVII
In May
Blithe Nature leaned to kiss her favorite child,
Her sunshine hair about her bosom swirled;
Gay Baby Spring held out his hands, he smiled,
And Apple-Blossoms dimpled on the world.
XXVIII
For Your Sake
Bid me for your sake,
Not for self or right—
You alone can wake
Power to gain the fight.
In your name I’d dare
Aught in earth’s great bounds;
Forth my sins should fare,
Leashed like cringing hounds.
When you touch my hand,
Through your holy eyes
I can see the land
Where is Paradise.
Yet I may not go,
Leaving cold and night,
Till your soul of snow
Sees that mine is white.
Let my heart not break
Till I kill my sin;
Bid me for your sake
Fight the world—and win!
XXIX
Lyric Love
The world deserves its wisdom. You and I,
Serene within the shadow, crowned with hours,
Cinctured with solitude, the bended sky
Folds us in hues of tulip twilight flowers.
Knowledge is chill; your hair is warm with gold,
A lock lies heavily across your cheek.
I somewhere heard of darkness, pain, and cold—
Keep your own, world. Ah, Love, stir not nor speak.
XXX
Be Still
Be still, be still, vex not the night with sound,
The moon has laid her finger on the lake,
And in the shadows of the wood profound
There lies a peace we would profane to break.
Upon the lonely avenue of trees,
As pearls upon an airy silver string,
Are caught the threaded echoes of the breeze
That sets the ruffled leaves a-murmuring.
Be still, dear heart, as though ’twere death to speak.
Love waits you, lily-like, with leaves unfurled,
While on the breast of day night lays her cheek,
The silence speaks the secret of the world.
XXXI
Butterfly Words
Butterfly words from the sun in my brain,
Flitting and darting and flitting again,
Gleaming of golden and violet and rose,
What is the rainbow you spring from, and where?
Butterflies daintily poise and disclose,
Whence is this secret of color you bear?
Sun that is ruddy and fragrant with flowers,
Garnered and hid from these desolate hours,
Misty with beauty, the silver of spring—
Ah, for the ways that are lost to my feet!
Only the dip of the butterfly wing,
Poised for a moment, revives me the sweet.
XXXII
Music
Music has opened her hands,
Through fingers her jewels are falling,
Fingers so delicate slender,
Pale as the ghost of a flower.
Jewels of crimson, the life
Ebbing from hearts that are broken,
Roses and wine and red sunsets,
Flames of undying desire.
Jewels of azure, the sea
Dreaming of stars, and the morning
Dancing with life, then the silence
Blue of mysterious caves.
Jewels of green, and the grass
Lifts up its hands to the summer,
Hiding insidious serpents,
Fair as the sweets that are sin.
Jewels more bright than the sun
Music lets fall from her fingers.
We who have stood in the shadow—
How may we die for her sake?
XXXIII
The Ghost
You came and you went, and I swept you aside, not a trace
Does my wisdom endure of your words and your beautiful face
And the curls of your hair;
Yet your presence, a song, murmurs ever in hopeless refrain,
And I wake in the night with my empty hands yearning in vain
For the touch of your hair.
You went, and I triumphed—I crushed out my heart with a kiss
On the lips that are ashen, forgetting spring’s wonderful bliss
And your tremulous lips;
Yet the kisses were ghostly with jasmine, dear jasmine of May—
The new has the soul of the old, is aflame with the way
And the touch of your lips.
You came and you went, and the world wearies on with its game.
My heart never falters or fears at the sound of your name
Or the sight of your face;
Yet the ghost of our passion stands white in the midst of my heart,
With your hands and your hair, and I know it will never depart
Passion’s ghost with your face!
XXXIV
Fight!
Fight, though the bulwarks of your faith may fall,
Life become gray and full of weariness,
Love prove a lie and wisdom bitterness—
Fight, for the strife alone avails for all.
Fight and fight on, exulting in the light,
Standing alert and upright gleefully,
Seizing life’s joys and woes courageously,
Man to the end, and master—laugh and fight.
XXXV
In Tonga
The windy rain beats, beats about my door—
Alas for love when love goes wandering!
The dawn mist rises on the forest floor—
Alas for life when love goes wandering!
With wet, green leaves the palm-trees lash the night,
The pitiless trades drive wild gods in their flight.
And, ah, my lover! Moons have come and gone,
The fighting ended, still he lingers on.
Sleepless I hear the demon wind above—
Alas for love when love goes wandering!
And I must wed with one I do not love—
Alas for life when love goes wandering!
XXXVI
This was the Song
We have forgotten. This the rowers knew,
Straining within the galleys’ reeling night.
Life bent to breaking, while their great souls grew
Strong in the ancient purposes of Time.
This was the song whereby they made their fight,
Laughed as they swung. Gods! how the cord bit through!
This was the song the pagan lovers heard,
Wakened by flowers in a rose-red dawn.
Through the bright dew they fled, like ocean stirred
With morning. Bare and beautiful they ran,
Holding each other’s hand. Through leaves they’re gone,
Cleaving the silver pool with flash of bird.
Carven in stone, Abydos holds it fast—
The little Eastern dancer with her lute,
Wild Erin’s faeries crying for the past.
They keep the deathless secret of the word
Hid behind Nature’s lips, who, grave, remote,
Guard this from profanation till the last.
Not unto us who bide the ebb and flow,
The senseless order of the tide of law.
We have forgotten to be free; we know
Only the iteration of the day.
The priceless moon, white pearl without a flaw,
Drowns in the muddy stream of worldly woe.
We take the petty part and leave the whole.
Lost to our ken the song of Nature’s youth—
The great barbaric winds that sweep the soul
And leave it emptied of all else but truth.
XXXVII
To E. D
She wrought her songs in secret ways,
Yet cared not where they fell;
Her soul distilled itself like dews
In rue and asphodel.
They fell in countless happy hearts,