University of California Berkeley SONNETS AND OTHER LYRICS SONNETS AND OTHER LYRICS Robert Silliman Hillyer CAMBRIDGE HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFOBD UNIVERSITY PRESS 1917 COPrRIGHT, 1017 HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Acknowledgments are due to The Seven Arts for permission to reprint "A Gull," to The New Republic for permission to reprint " To a Scarlatti Passepied," to The Poetry Review for permission to reprint "Doomsday," and to The Harvard Monthly and to The Harvard Advocate for permission to reprint verses first published in those periodicals. CONTENTS PAGE SONNETS I-XXXIV 9~42 TO A SCARLATTI PASSEPIED 45 DOOMSDAY 46 SONG : In Venily the highways rang 48 KATAMA 50 TWILIGHT 51 OUT OF LUCRETIUS 53 BY WINTER SEAS 54 SONG : Now time has gathered to itself 56 SONG : When I said farewell to thee 57 TO THOSE WHO DEFENDED 58 A HERON 61 A GULL 62 ANTINOUS 63 WINTER NIGHT 66 THE RECOMPENSE 67 SONNETS QUICKLY and pleasantly the seasons blow Over the meadows of eternity, As wave on wave the pulsings of the sea Merge and are lost, each in the other's flow. Time is no lover; it is only he That is the one unconquerable foe, He is the sudden tempest none can know, Winged with swift winds that none may hope to flee. Fair child of loveliness, these endless fears Are nought to us; let us be gods of stone, And set our images beyond the years On some high mount where we can be alone; And thou shalt ever be as now thou art, And I shall watch thee with untroubled heart. II THE golden spring redeems the withered year, And wherefore should my spirit be afraid Though autumn winds wail through the smoky shade And chill me like the fleeting ghost of fear ? Sweet love of youth, I know that thou must fade, I know what nameless spectres hover near, And that the loveliness I hold so dear, Borrowed from dust, to ashes must be paid. Yet linger still over these wasted meadows Faint shreds of song, and scattered scents of flowers, And from the heart's abyss of deepening shadows Rise the young passions of immortal hours. The golden spring its withered year redeems; Sleep comes at last, but sleep made rich with dreams. mo: Ill THEN judge me as thou wilt, I cannot flee, I cannot turn away from thee forever, For there are bonds that wisdom cannot sever, And slaves with souls far freer than the free. Such strong desires the Universal Giver With unknown plan has buried deep in me, That the passionate joy of watching thee Has dominated all my life's endeavor. Thou weariest of having me so near, I feel the scorn thou hast within thy heart, And yet, thy face has never seemed so dear As now, when I am minded to depart. Though thou shalt drive me hence, I love thee so That I shall watch thee when thou dost not know. [11] IV To make my days impatient with unrest, To filch the quiet of the dark's repose, Seeking forever what my soul well knows Is ever far beyond my farthest quest; So this is love; swift joys and lingering woes, A wistful kiss beneath the ashen west, Farewell and greeting, mouth to mouth once pressed, And then the empty darkness onward flows. The heights that I have won do not endure, They shrink beneath the stars I yearn to win, The triumphs of my passion only lure My vagrant feet to tread the verge of sin; Though well I know that when I fall thereover, Love will fly hence; the loved one and the lover. [12] I CANNOT yet admit unchecked despair Since now my heart this unknown conflict wages, I know not what the endless strife presages, I dare not welcome hope, nor exile care. For love with fear and hope with grief engages, And I the burden of the battle bear; Friends there are none, foes I have everywhere, Hope lies, grief stabs, and still the combat rages. And thou, sweet monarch of my love, hast wrought This ruin on my land of Venily, And sown rebellion in my humblest thought, Making my dreams deal traitorously with me; But stay, I would not that this struggle cease, For having thee is better far than peace. [13] VI How should I think of thee but with delight ? How should I greet thy face but with a smile ? And yet dark tears within my heart defile The dreams of thee that I would have so bright. If thou shouldst come and end this lonely while, These leaden hours of the sleepless night, Still should I fear to show thee what I write, Lest I repent in vain, and thou revile. Yet couldst thou read these scriptures of my heart, Graven in passion with no base control, For one brief moment, then, they might impart Some almost worthy offering from my soul. I write for thee, and cannot let thee read, Thus love denies itself its utmost need. [14] VII How strange it is that thine ethereal grace Should make me sorry by its loveliness, For surely beauty is designed to bless Those hours of youth that have so short a race, And yet the memory of some old distress Shadows me over when I see thy face, And yearning ever for one swift embrace Has tinged my joy in thee with bitterness. The young smiles flashing brightly free and fair, The laughing stars that in thy deep eyes shine, It is not love for me that lights them there, I see their beauty, but they are not mine. Thy loveliness is joy poisoned with pain; Rapture to love, torment to love in vain. [15] VIII THE rising deluges of circumstance Have flooded all the gardens of my dreams, No more the inner sun of gladness gleams Upon pale flowers of a lover's trance. Dear Love, I know not why this torrent seems To drown in turbid billowings of chance The blossoms of thy visioned countenance, Soiling my richest thoughts with earthy streams. The river of the world is ever strong, I would that I could leave this doubtful shore, And yet I linger, hoping that ere long The swirling tide will crush my dreams no more. And if my gardens ever bloom again, How fair will be thy perfect blossom then! [16] IX I LOVE devoutly; thou shall seek for long Ere thou receive another offering Such as these passionate tributes that I bring With all the deep submission of the strong. I would that all my chants of thee could ring Through the great sorrows of the nameless throng, And that thy beauty echoing in my song Could wake the weary city into spring. Since thou hast changed my life, and in my heart Hast deep implanted this new love of life, Perchance these phantoms of thee will impart Beauty and courage to a world at strife. And yet I tarry long, in fear to share With common men a song of one so rare. [17] X LET those who love hear me; I speak as one Who hath known every portion of love's pain, And all the swift delights that flare and wane Between the setting and the rising sun. Sins have I known whose sweetness left no stain, And virtues that much villainy have done, But now the pattern that my heart has spun Is finished, and I see that it is vain. Vain is the virgin kiss, and vain the thought That binds the heart's desire from afar, Each loves the image his own mind has wrought, Each worships no true spirit, but a star. By none is this believed until the years Reveal the sad deception, and with tears. [18] XI WE have come back to one another; yes, After long languishing in spheres apart, Thou hast returned, since Love's own self thou art, And I in penitence and fearfulness. gentle Love, that leaves me not to smart Forever in the clutches of distress, When with a kindly pardon thou canst bless Consummately my long-disconsolate heart, Forgive me yet again, if to this joy 1 do not rise at once from melancholy, Mine was the utmost sin thus to destroy Our calm devotion with unbridled folly; Bear with me yet awhile until I prove The tenderness of all-repentant love. XII I WILL fling wide the windows of my soul Under the deep hush of nocturnal skies, When the white legions of the stars arise And write their secrets on the Master's scroll. I will go forth and watch with slumberous eyes The languid billows of the ocean roll In silver rhythms on some hidden shoal, Swelling with laughter, falling back with sighs. And in the tranquil twilight of that place, The lovely solitude of lonely sands, Will flash the pale resplendence of thy grace In sudden beauty out of other lands, And I will kneel and kiss thine ivory hands Beneath the flowered music of thy face. [20] XIII POOR faltering lines, my weary soul's relief, The balm of passion, opiate of pain, A mightier hand than mine, a mightier brain, Had wrought in you an immemorial grief. But though my love and art both prove in vain, Wither and die with me, I had as lief That it were so; respite however brief Is all-sufficient to the living-slain. For separate voices sink at eventide, And none survives the creeping hush of time, Nought lives but life; the fame of them that died Brings back no vestige of their lovely prime, Fame and oblivion shall merge again In nameless loves and laughter, tears and pain. XIV LET all men see the ruins of the shrine That I, with passionate and holy care, Built long ago from laughter and despair That godly love might have a fane divine. Let the wide wings of darkness hover where The god of youth once drank his rarest wine, And let the rank breath of some poisoned vine Choke the last sigh that lingers on the air. Hurl the white sanctuary down, and bare Its inmost secrets to the gaze of men, Unveil the altar to the vulgar stare, And let none seek to build it up again; Ah, when the last wall crumbles, stone by stone, I shall go hence that I may weep alone. [22] XV How oft the traitor trumpet sounds retreat, Beguiling my bewildered soul again, When all the forces on the battle-plain Are ready to do homage at my feet; And when I fight with strength, it is in vain, For then I find no foe before my eyes, They lurk in shadow, waiting to surprise My soul when it is weary and in pain. How shall I gauge the conflict and the odds, Misled and blinded in the midst of strife ? How shall I know mine enemy ? O gods, Grant me one moment worthy of my life, To see at last beyond the dust and shade, And face real foemen, strong and unafraid. [23] XVI EVEN as love grows more, I write the less, Impelled to speak, unable still to voice The lyric thoughts like angels that rejoice Attendant on thy godly loveliness. Stay the bright swallow high in airy poise, Carve out of stone an infinite caress, Garner the fruits of tears and happiness, Make bloom forever what an hour destroys, Then shamed by such unprecedented skill I may find words to name thee, and to sing Such praises of thy beauty as shall fill The listening world with floods of carolling; Till then thou art like starlight on the air, Or clouds at dawn, unutterably fair. [84] XVII VOICE that art life to me, I almost hear Thy sweet familiar cadence on the breeze, At times a note lost high among the trees, At times a far call infinitely clear; Face that art love to me, my spirit sees In each unfolding bud of the young year Imperfect shadows of thy grace appear, For thou, dear one, art fairer than all these; Soul that art part of me, at last I know What murmurs on the wakening breezes blow, What hand of ivory pours out the wine Filling the cup of spring to overflow; All beauty mirrors what is only thine, And thou the source not mortal, but divine. XVIII LOVELY art thou, and everything of thine Reflects the glory of thy noble grace; That thou shouldst have returned my swift embrace Has made me feel that I too am divine. My spirit met thy spirit face to face, Thy godlike heart has not rejected mine, And I have been uplifted in the shrine, And high exalted in the holy place. Think not that thou or I shall ever fade Forgotten in the silence of the years; We are but one, this world of myth and shade Shall not appall us with its dusty fears; If Death should find the hearts whom Love hath kissed, We never met, and nothing doth exist. [26] XIX ALTHOUGH the spring is hastening to pursue The swift white deer of winter through the glades, Sometimes they pause for breath beneath the shades; Then blows the frozen hurricane anew. And so the chill of thy neglect invades My heart, in which of late a timid few Flowers began to spring, until there blew This sudden storm, blighting the tender blades. But when April at last shall put to flight The pallid cohorts of the lingering snow, And every leaf lifts upward to the light, And every spirit blossoms from its woe, Ah, then relent, and let me have my share Of joy, and rise up radiant from care. [27] XX To walk beside the river in the dawn Is fair indeed when spring is in the breeze, Bird-carollings, the mumbling hum of bees Sing matins from the dew-bespangled lawn; And dancing there behind those druid trees, Lurks in delight a little singing faun, Who laughs at us, and yet is always gone When we would trace his scattered melodies. Alone, dear love, with thee and the new day, Now am I radiant like the golden fields, No distant longing and no dim dismay, Nought but the gladness that the hour yields. To walk beside the river is most fair When Love is young and spring is in the air! C*8] XXI Two lovers stood alone beneath the night, And, quickened with a sudden strength, one said, :< To-night is ours to snatch from out the dead An immortality of vast delight. When Youth has felt the touch of time and fled, When Love in chill despair has taken flight, There is one joy that knows not change nor blight, fAh, kiss me, ere the fleeting hour be sped! " The hovering moon leaned low in rapt desire, Two souls uprose beyond oblivion, A shout triumphal shook the starry choir, Then sacred silence fell, until the sun Gazed like a victor, as he gazes now, On the new day and the undying vow. [29] XXII FLY, joyous wind, through all the wakened earth, Now when the portals of the dawn outpour Laughter and radiant sunlight from the store Of spring's glad passion and loud-ringing mirth. Cry to the world that I despair no more; Heart greets my heart, and hope has proved its worth; Fly where the meadows swell in flowery birth, Chant everywhere, and everywhere adore. Circle the basking hills in fragrant flight, Shout "Rapture! Rapture!" if sweet sorrow passes, And whisper low in intimate delight My love-song to the undulating grasses. Grief is no more, Love rises with the spring, O fly, free wind, and "Rapture! Rapture!" sing. [30] XXIII OVER the waters but a single bough Stretches in silhouette against the moon, The little dark waves haunt the dim lagoon And splash against the languid-moving prow. I should have left thee when the afternoon Surrendered to pursuing night, for now Too perilously dear and fair art thou, And love too soon invoked shall die too soon. I fear the very floods of happiness That swell the narrow chambers of my heart, Knowing indeed that with our first caress, Contentment and my soul forever part; O night of love and beauty, all the years Shall pay for thy brief ecstasy with tears. [31] XXIV THERE was a boy in some forgotten spring Who fled from all his comrades at the school, And in the hills beside a forest pool Lay on the grass, watching, and listening. And as he listened, melancholy delight Stirred in his heart a pang he did not know, And voices of new passion bade him write Of the vague thoughts that shook his spirit so. Now on the battlefield of later times, I meet those dreams returning in the forms Of mighty friends and foes amid the strife; And reading those imperfect boyish rhymes, I hear through the blown dust of many storms The hymns of the advance-guard of my life. CSS] XXV Now would that thou wert here, my happiness, Here in the flesh, or else completely gone Out of my life, out of my thoughts withdrawn, And memory clean of love and old distress. Night dreams in pain of thee, and on that lawn Where we would sit at eventide, and press Heart against heart, only white loneliness Stretches beneath the winter's cheerless dawn. Thou woundest me with absence, all the air Seems echoing thy name, and through the day I woo forgetfulness, but unaware My thoughts return to our farewell caress. Now would that thou wert here, my happiness, Joy dwells with thee, and thou art far away. [33] XXVI \VHAT though the night be dissonant with rain, And roofs drip in a mournful monotone On the deserted streets, and breezes moan Over the naked boughs like ghosts in pain; Yet are there voices through the darkness blown From some remote celestial domain That hint of peace, and scatter all the vain Questions that mock the soul brooding alone. All nights are beautiful, but in the warm Wet darkness that knows neither stars nor moon, Whose bells half -heard through the complaining storm Bind the wind's discords in harmonious tune, The soul withdraws into its cave of rest, And dreams long dreams, well-loved, but not expressed. [34] XXVII ABOUT the headlands and the rocky shoals I hear the breath of twilight, sighing, sighing, And over the wail and dash of breakers, crying, The voices of old ships and wandering souls. Through the wet air squadrons of gulls are flying, Wheeling but once against the skies, then tossed Into the wind like a flight of visions lost With vanished souls into the darkness dying. O harp of the winds singing above the dead, O rush of wings over the turbulent deep, Pray for the spirits uncompanioned, The dreams returned into oblivion, The men drifting far from the stars and sun, Lost in a lonely night and a loveless sleep. XXVIII THE insurgent sea sweeps through the barrier Triumphant, all its foaming strength amassed In one tempestuous tide, wallowing past The broken banks and the worn dykes that were Upbuilt by coward hearts; sated at last It settles in calm pools about the bar, So that at twilight the young evening star Beholds its image in still waters cast. Against unyielding shores I too have striven, And won at last like the uprising sea, And sink to rest beneath a quiet heaven, After long struggles, a long victory; But my star vanishes, its light withdrawn, And darkness falls unpromising of dawn. [36] XXIX not of waning love and changing days, Youth may be short and life may not endure, Yet with a strength unslacked, a vision sure, My love companions thee in all thy ways. Whither thou wanderest in times unsure Of peace, however far thy spirit strays From love of me, my spirit ever stays Close to thy side, and there shall rest secure. If thou shouldst weary of me, and alone I walked with grief, yet should I be aware How far unworthy I had been to share In thy diviner life, or sing thy praise; If thou shouldst hate me, yet I am thine own, Speak not of waning love and changing days. [37] XXX \Vno follows Love shall walk in outland places, Beyond the common cheer of hall and town, He shall forget all things, the friendly faces, The strife for wealth, the struggle for renown. A young crusader putting by his crown, A pilgrim following a holy vision, Heeding nor threat of king nor gibe of clown, The tyrant's hatred nor the world's derision, Thus shall he wander; in no bright Elysian Meadows shall be his quest, but through the vast And midnight fears that shake his heart's decision With staring madness, till he see at last Like Parsifal in ages long ago, Love's flaming chalice out of darkness glow. [38] XXXI ONLY last night we dwelt together, we Whose lips the ultimate farewells enthrall; Last night itself is but a stone let fall Into the chasm of eternity. There shall be echoes, I shall hear them call However faint, however far they be; There shall be shadows, I shall always see Them beckon from Time's memory-haunted hall, The dear mirages of the years gone by Glow falsely golden from their dark domain, But now they stir me not. " Mere mockery," Low to my heart I say to still its pain, And cloud-built cities in the sunset sky Fade out in dark across the endless plain. [39] XXXII 1 HOU only wert my hope, and thou art gone. Thou, the one star in monotones of sky, Art vanished like a meteor, and I, Lost in the night, have ceased to pray for dawn. I watched thee fade, I saw thee passing by And tried to call thee, but my lips were dumb; It had been better hadst thou never come, Remembered riches mock my poverty. Blow from afar the little sounds of bells, Wood-smoke hangs thinly on the autumn air, The town's unconscious hush is like a prayer, And night sleeps pleasantly among the dells; I only wander on, and know not where, Through the great dark, pursued by faint farewells, [40] XXXIII IF in some fair Elysian seclusion We yet shall find the dreams that we have wrought To guide our souls while the dark strife is fought Amongst these shades moving in black confusion, If with our finite sorrows we have bought Infinite joy, safe from the world's intrusion, And in this wilderness of blind delusion Have sought one vision worthy to be sought, Then we are not irrevocably parted, But fighting upward, each in his own fashion, From mortal dust to an immortal passion, Separate in earthly chance, yet single-hearted, We that in steep and lonely paths have trod, At dawn shall meet before the face of God. [41] XXXIV LONG after both of us are scattered dust, And alien souls, perchance, shall read of thee, Guessing the passions that have crushed from me These poor confessions of my love and trust; Ah, well I know how heartless they will be, For some will laugh, and others, more unjust, Whose minds know not of love, but only lust, Will stain the vesture of our memory. And yet a few there may be who will feel My true devotion and my deep desires, And know that these unhappy lines reveal Only new images in changeless fires; And they, indeed, will linger with a sigh To think that beauty such as thine must die. OTHER LYRICS TO A SCARLATTI PASSEPIED STRANGE little tune, so thin and rare, Like scents of roses of long ago, Quavering lightly upon the strings Of a violin, and dying there With a dancing flutter of delicate wings; Thy courtly joy and thy gentle woe, Thy gracious gladness and plaintive fears Are lost in the clamorous age we know, And pale like a moon in the lurid day; A phantom of music, strangely fled From the princely halls of the quiet dead, Down the long lanes of the vanished years, Echoing frailly and far away. [45] DOOMSDAY THE garlands and the songs of May Shall welcome in the Judgment Day; About the basking countryside Blossom the souls of them that died. O Dead, awake! Arise in bloom! Upon the joyous day of doom. They rise up from the bleeding earth In gracious legions of rebirth, Each as a flower or a tree Of verdant immortality, And hosts of lyric angels sing In the rippling groves of spring. From the tomb of youth there grows A passionately petaled rose, Where the virgin whitely lies, A lily fair as Paradise, And in that old oak's leafy glee Some gouty sire makes sport of me. j [46] O Dead of yore and yesterday, All hail the resurrecting May! Beside you in the flowering grass The feet of youth and love shall pass, And we that greet you with a smile Shall join you in a little while. [47] SONG IN Venily the highways rang With voices of the April day, And all about the budding way The lyric soul of morning sang. The dripping trees were soft and new When dawn lay smiling on the hills, Gemming her breast with daffodils, And bathing in the rainbow dew. We trod the streets of Venily, We knew its paths, my love and I, And when the light fell from the sky, And when the dark devoured the sea, We wrung each hour of its joy, We lived each brave unspoken thought, But the day came, and we were nought, Nought but a frightened girl and boy. [483 The flower of remembrance springs Where Venily my city stood, But still in the enchanted wood The lyric soul of morning sings. [49] KATAMA THERE is no sunlight on the dunes this hour, For the last sword has swept the twilight skies, Flashed far aloft, and vanished. A gull flies Like a black bee into the sunset flower. Faint inarticulate echoes with the breeze Drift in upon the silence from afar, Like divine voices speaking wondrous rhymes; And slowly from the vague and misty seas In lonely vigil rises the first star, Dreaming of distant lands and buried times. [50] TWILIGHT Now the thrush no longer calls Through the woods' reverberant halls, Now the sunlight's flickering sheen Through the windy webs of green Pales away, and deepening shades Harbinger advancing night, And the creeping dusk invades The waning kingdom of the light. Darkness with its coronet Of stars has not come hither yet, Neither day nor night on high Rules the regions of the sky, Time has fled, and fled also Mortal fear and mortal woe. Spirits sleeping far apart Wondering rise white from tears, Hand clasps hand, heart kisses heart Across the distance of the years. Vision hour, twilight hour, Dead love and the withered flower [51] Claim thee as their own and bloom Dream-like from a crumbled tomb; Now the thrush no longer calls Through the woods' reverberant halls, Now the dusk is come, and day And night and time are fled away. [52] OUT OF LUCRETIUS BE calm, O soul so often tried, Sleep once was thine, and sleep shall come again, Ere thou wert born, when thou hast died, Not thine the pain. Before thou wokest from the womb Sorrow and hate were old, and fear and need, Thou didst not know them; in the tomb Thou shalt not heed. Serenely face thine undertaking. Sorrow is great ? thy slumber shall be deep, And life nought but a moment's waking From sleep to sleep. [53] BY WINTER SEAS BENEATH the thin edge of the watery world The sun drops down, its wavering light is cast On the white breakers foaming line on line; The flapping wind is furled And vanquished day retreats at last. The frozen dunes and the wet sands resign Their tints of purple and of gold, As gathering in the shadows they enfold The silence in a seamless pall. So move the years to their predestined night, So fade the colours from the festival Of youth's imagining and love's delight, And gradually from the failing sight The dark removes the visionary lands Which tempt the gaze to rest on hopes afar, Leaving beneath a solitary star Only the narrow prospect of bleak sands. A scream strikes through the air, And falling at my feet from out the frigid night A dead gull flutters, stricken in its flight, [54] Its wings outstretched stiff with unbending ice. Cold, cold and white it glimmers there, A still-unconsecrated sacrifice. To what cruel deity, pale wayfarer, Hast thou been offered, stricken in the pride Of soaring over the immeasurable tide That sweeps in slow and wide Above the ruins of a thousand lands ? The wings that beat triumphant shall not stir Again, nor shall a single note Swell the strong sinews of that splendid throat, And soon beneath the fickle sands Shall vanish the last sign of thy long strife. Oh, what cruel god has plucked with impious hands The pinions of adventure from thy life ? So falls the stricken spirit down the skies, Its power blighted in the frozen breath Of time, and on some undiscovered shore Gives up the trophies of its brave emprise, While through the broken rocks and crannies pour The inrushing tides of overwhelming death. [55] SONG Now time has gathered to itself The lily and the rose, To mould upon a dusty shelf Where no man knows. Now all things lovely fail and wane, The tender petals close, And in the dawn shall bloom again No lily, no rose. Now from the garden of thy face The lily and the rose Are gathered to a dusty place Where no man knows. SONG WHEN I said farewell to thee, Oh, I was a skilful player! Never actor laughed like me, Never any mime was gayer; But my heart in misery Sought some god in prayer. Now the night comes, when all men Put their lines and masques away, Tears will claim the lover then As a prologue to the play; Tears for darkness, till again Laughter for the day. [57] TO THOSE WHO DEFENDED (THE LLOYD McKra GARRISON PRIZE POEM HARVARD UNIVERSITY, 1916) I How vain it seems, how vain the valiant strength Of nations risen in splendour to the sun, For down the weary stretch of battle-length Surges a conflict that is never done, And of all victories and losses, none Survives the memory of a day, and time Takes back the withering garlands one by one Of vaunted triumph and of cause sublime. O Dead who sacrificed your years of prime, You sacrificed them vainly, and but died Like actors in some oft-repeated mime, Some outworn play of Lust and Greed and Pride, Some allegory writ by bloody hands Far in the unknown past, in devastated lands. [58] II O nameless Dead of yore and yesterday Who sleep untroubled in deep quietude, Long from the sharp alarums of the fray, You rest so silently in the subdued Unchanging dusk of dreamless solitude, How should you know that still the same gaunt war Plows the old field of battle where you stood, And flings the seed of suffering afar! Now quiet twilight woos the evening star, Now falls the respite of a silent hour; Inviolate and calm the slumbers are Of saints in holiness, of kings in power, And calm the legions are that lie in peace, The dead who sleep the white sleep of the last release. [59] Ill No traitor trumpet summons for retreat Down dusty lines of shuddering despair, No trampled victory or red defeat Screams a loud torment through the smoky air, O Dead, or breaks your sleep; and yet somewhere Your weary comrades struggle overhead As you once struggled, and all unaware They fight the same fierce battles in your stead. Awake once more! Rise from your ashen bed! You died to end these wars, now rise to life Again on the wide plains where once you bled And lost or won; there consummate the strife, Cry from the bleeding earth, from the shadowy past, " This is the last of wars! Forevermore the last! " [60] A HERON A HERON in the marshes stands, The sentinel of lost outlands; Unearthly white and immobile He keeps there in the dying light A silent watch among the sedge, Challenging the creeping night, And the slow mists that reel Along the water's edge. Then as the twilight fades at last, Suddenly like a thwarted ghost He rises screaming in the vast, Grey wings against the greying vast, And soon is lost. But in the sedge and salty fen His malediction rings again Like the sinister farewell Of a soul from some far hell. Then the hazes disappear, And the starlight, steady-clear, Whitens the trembling air and breaks the spell. [61] A GULL GREY wings, O grey wings against a cloud Over the rough waves flashing, Whose was the scream, startling and loud, Keen through the skies, was it thine, Piercing above the wind and the moaning whine Of the wide seas dashing ? Whose was the scream that I heard In the midst of the hurrying air, Was it thine, lost bird ? Or the voice of an old despair Shrieking from years long dead, Inexorable spirit flying On tempest wings, that passed and fled Through the storm crying ? [62] ANTINOUS i DIM gardens sleep in darkness, quiet trees Weave their uncertain boughs against the sky; Out of the prison of a cloud there flees The fugitive moon, slender and whitely shy. There is music faltering upon the breeze Despairing like the phantom of a sigh; The night dreams deep in loveliness, yet I Have deeper dreams and lovelier memories. For I have seen leaping from out the grey And sombre groves the young Antinous, Dancing and chanting, vanishing away, Leaving the passionate gardens tremulous. O Love! O Laughter! fleet and sinuous, Full swiftly follows the despondent day. II How wan and weary-eyed the cloudy dawn Creeps through the mist with sick and halting tread; The splendour of these wasted bowers is gone, The old illusion of the dark is dead. Some godly auspices have been withdrawn, On high some awful sentence has been said; See how the garlands rot upon the head Of yon dispirited and stony faun. And Adrian's ship with wild teeth in the foam, With blazoned pinions to the foggy breeze, Bears on its decks the mightiest lords of Rome, Imperial hosts upon disconsolate seas, - The gods shall spare the majesty of these, But one white laughing boy returns not home. . . . [64] Ill COME, let us hasten hence and weep no more, The sinking sea resumes its tranquil ways, Night looms expectant at the eastern door And trails the last cloud into lifeless haze. Antinous is dead; we kneel before The portals of our past in vain, nor raise The laughing phantoms of our yesterdays Upon this desolate and empty shore. Now deepening pools of shadow overflow Into the sea of dark. A far-off bell Sobs with a sweet vibration, long and slow, A last farewell, forevermore farewell. And will he wake and hear ? We cannot tell, And will he answer ? Ah, we do not know. C65] WINTER NIGHT THE snow lies crisp beneath the stars, On roofs and on the ground, Late footsteps crunch along the paths, There is no other sound. So cold it is the very trees Snap in the rigid frost, A dreadful night to think on them, The homeless and the lost. The dead sleep sheltered in the tomb; The rich drink in the hall; The Virgin and the Holy Child Crouch shivering in a stall. [66] THE RECOMPENSE the last song is sung, and the last spark Of light dies out forever, and the dark, The voiceless dark eternal, shrouds the earth, When the last cries of pain and shouts of mirth Sink in the desolate silences of space, Where then shall flower the beauty of your face ? O Love the laughing, Youth the rose-in-hand, In what unknown and undiscovered land Shall flower then the beauty of your face ? I know not, but I know that all returns At last unchanged, and to the heart that yearns Shall be repaid all loneliness and loss; Sometime with shadowy sails shall fly across The shoreless ocean of infinity A ship from out the past, and the great sea Of life shall bear you from the new worlds over The waves, and back again to the old lover. [67] PRINTED AT THE HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS CAMBRIDGE, MASS., TJ. S. A. / 5.1.36-3$ THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY