THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES \ M ,' Minuscula Minuscula Lyrics of Nature, Art and Love By Francis William Bourdillon London : Lawrence & Bullen, Ltd. 1 6 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden MDCCCXCVII The poems contained in this little volume are for the most part the siftings of three yet smaller volumes of verse, published anonymously at Oxford in 1891, 1892, and 1894, and now withdrawn from sale. But I have added certain new poems, which in the Contents are marked with an asterisk, besides four which ap- peared in the American edition of Ailes d'Alouette. 7477 &f**fcw< Minuscula CONTENTS Part I. Art and Nature The Shelley Memorial An Artist's Litany . When Music Dies *Joy's Way . *To a Lark . Queen Spring . Maytime An English Eden An Autumn Song Autumn Singers *Corydalis . Catchwords Found Drowned The Myriad-Mother At Even Winged Ants PAGE 3 8 10 n 12 13 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 (x) PAGE *T«e Lodestar 25 In a Cage 26 poeta atque navis 27 Shadows .28 The Sinner .... . . 29 Part II. Love *Love's Largesse 33 *Life and Love 34 Mother-of-Pearl . . 35 The Words of Lovers 36 Darkening Years 37 A Rippled Stone 38 Two Dreams 39 A Butterfly on a Glacier .... 40 After their Year 41 "Where all Love's Pilgrims come'' . 42 Star-Glimpses 43 Vibrations 44 A Day of Love .... . . 45 "What is Love but a Dreamer ? . . .46 "The Song-Master 47 *The Herald-Flower 48 Lost Leaves of the Greek Anthology . 49 (xi) Part III. Man's Love PAGE In Inferno Sustulit Oculos • • • 55 In Exitu Amoris 5 6 *Cynthia 57 A Song of Farewell 58 A Love-Song 59 Omens and Dreams 60 *The Afterglow 61 Illumination 62 Visa Mihi Veritas 63 *The Word after Farewell .... 64 Together, Once 65 Outre-Mer 66 Kisses . 67 Ask of the Nightingale .... 68 A Song of Love 69 *A Silver Night . . ... 70 Eheu, Fugaces ! 71 A Summer Cloud 72 A Fallen Idol 73 *Any Man to any Woman .... 74 A Man's Question 75 The Bird and the Beacon .... 76 The Story of a Lover's Soul 77 (xii) PAGE The Poisoned Butterfly .... 79 Finis sine Fine 80 The Happy Spring 81 The One Day 82 The Magic Maiden 83 A Magic Circle 84 Earth has Forgotten 85 Via Invia ... .... 86 A Rondel of the Ivy-Leaf . . . . 87 A Rondel of Absence 88 Love Sonnets 89 Part IV. Maiden's Love The Story of the Rose ... -97 To-day He Loves Me 98 " Si vous croyez que je vais dire " . -99 Ce que vivent les Roses . . . 100 I and You 101 A Woman's Question 102 Not in Naxos i°3 A Story heard on a Violin . . . .105 A Revolt Io6 PLANCTUS DlSPLICENTlS I07 Part I Art and Nature The Shelley Memorial fin University College, Oxford) Ilaque testimonio est is vobismet ipsis : quod filii estis eorum qui prophetas occiderunt. This is not Shelley — this dead mask of Death ! Here is no marble Immortality, But fleshly petrifaction. Could the breath Come back to this, yet nevermore should he, The stately spirit of full stature, deign In this small corpse to lodge, and live again. This is not Shelley ! Have our eyes not seen Shelley, the child of morning, with the light Of Heaven about him, and a brow serene As Orient noonday, smile on Death and Night, As the unhappy sisters of man's sorrow, That might not live to the bright human morrow ? B 2 (4) This marble but records Death's victory In Death's own lying language ; who doth boast That o'er all Being he hath erapery, And nothing liveth when the breath is lost. So cold, so white, he cries, your Shelley lay ! Such lifeless limbs ! Such heavy soul-less clay ! Where is his Immortality — ah, where ? Is this the sky of Shelley ? These his stars ? This small blue dome, as low, as near, as bare As infant man believed it, and these sparse Gold spangles ! Could ye mock our Shelley more 'Twixt him and Heav'n than draw this tinsel o'er ? Yet who here standing blames the sculptor's art ? So deftly moulded is each marble limb ! Such deathly languor lies on every part ! So like is this to what was left of him, When the wave-wantons, tiring of a prey Teased vainly, flung the emptied flesh away ! (5) Not his the fault, the sculptor's ! Is it ours, Who leave no more to Art her old domain Of Fancy, and though sky and sea she scours, No more allow her to present us plain Her aery visions, or to unseen things Lend bodies visible and birdlike wings ? She bears Egyptian bondage, set to make No likeness but what workman souls may see And test by finger-touch — the fowler's lake, The fisher's river-side, the woodman's tree, The face in soul-less hours of common life, The body naked for the surgeon's knife. Where are her ancient glories, when to man She brought a revelation all divine, And opened his dull eyes, and bade him scan Shy Nature, to discern why she did shine, For all her sorrows, with so calm a light ; And, through the outward, woke the inward sight ? (6) Here had the Greek made plain in mortal form The seed of the Immortals, the half-god ; Here had the Florentine shewn flesh all warm With mystic fire-tints from the Rose of God ; The rudest missal-scribe, his rough child-way, Had drawn the soul-shape 'scaping from the clay. We only, lords of lightning and of light, All Nature's magic working to our wand, Are yet forbidden the most simple sight Of the informing soul in sea or land, In hills and clouds and the blue deeps above, And woman's beauty, and the face we love. One was there, son of England, whom not yet The dust of years hides deeply, who per- chance With visionary touch had made forget This dead marred body, left but to enhance The bright miraculous likeness upward drawn, The unprisoned spirit springing to the Dawn. (7) But Blake, the last Prometheus, is no more, And the dark Heaven has shut her gates again. Turn to the sleeper here, if in the lore He left us we may find some balm for pain, May find him living, though this gray-hued Death So grimly to his dying vvitnesseth. There do we find him, with his young-god's face For ever to the East — for ever sure Of the delaying sunrise, and the grace To dawn upon the dark earth, full and pure And holy, though a hundred such as he Should die in faith before that day shall be. (8) An Artist's Litany Wisdom to others — to see Thy face and live ; But the hunger of Beauty to me, Good Father, give ! In Earth and Heaven to know Transfiguring light : To drink of the sunset glow With the inward sight : The glory of Heaven to learn From a wayside weed : The Eden of God to discern In a daisied mead : To look through lustrous eyes To the soul of a girl, And covet no selfish prize Of casquet or pearl : (9) Crown of the Maker's craft, The white-limbed Eve, To worship, and no warm waft Of the flesh receive ! Wisdom to others — to see Thy face and live : But the hunger of Beauty to me. Good Father, give ! (IO) When Music Dies The doors of Eden close When music dies. The odours of the rose, The warm wind's sighs- Ev'n as a dream they fade : The dew-washed feet Pass from the cedarn shade To sands and heat. ( II ) Joy's Way Skimming an idle stone along the lake An idle day, Sudden I saw a little rainbow wake Among the spray, Which, trying oft, I could no more remake. This is Joy's way ! All in a moment on our eyes to break, Then flee away, Nor all our labour e'er can bring it back, Nor all our play. ( lO To a Lark O little singing bird, If I could word In as sweet human phrase Thy hymn of praise, The world should hearken me As I do thee, And I should heed no more Than thou, but soar ! ( 13 ) Queen Spring I met Queen Spring in the Hanger That slopes to the river gray ; Yestreen the thrushes sang her, But she came herself to-day. She is fair as a mortal maiden ; But all I saw was the clouds With a new refulgence laden As they drifted by in crowds. Her voice is sweet as a viol ; But all I heard was the song Of the blackbird making trial If yet his notes were strong. Her touch is soft as the water ; But all I felt was the kiss Of the warm South wind that had brought her On those wide wings of his. ( 14,) Her breath is sweet as the showers ; But all I caught was the scent Of her sacred primrose flowers Flinging incense where she went. For so do the things diviner Come within human ken, Through some perception finer Than the fivefold senses of men. d5) Maytime Oh, the Maytime Is the playtime ! Petals falling, Cuckoos calling, Here and there ; Flowers springing Wood-birds singing Everywhere. Oh, the woodland Is the good land ! All that rare is In Maytime there is. In sweet places Children's features Take the graces Of wild creatures, Till their faces Gleam and dimple With the simple Look of flowers; And their brightening Is the enlightening Of dark hours. ( i6) An English Eden Roses drop their petals all around In that enchanted ground, And all the air is murmurous with sound From the white-tumbling weir ; So that all lesser voices heard anear Do half unreal appear. As one half-waking from a dreamless sleep, Is fain his thought to keep, Thus floating ever 'twixt the night's black deep And the blank glare of day ; So in that Eden pauses life half-way 'Twixt dawning and full day, ( 17) An Autumn Song Lay by, sweet woodlands, your array Of gold and green ! How should ye wear it in the day When Spring, your Oueen, Is chased away By rebels from her bright demesne ? Farewell, delight of lustrous leaves And shining flowers ! Many an unseen hand unweaves The royal bowers. Earth's self receives Sullenly the usurping Powers, ( 18) Autumn Singers When woods are gold and hedges gay With jewelled Autumn's brief array, And diamonds sprinkle every spray, The robin sings His soft melodious well-a-day For dying things. Yet often, when a riotous night Has ruined half the wood's delight, There breaks a Spring day, warm and bright, And the thrush sings, As though his April were in sight, Of quickening things. ( i9) Corydalis There is a little plant that weaves About the withered gorse its leaves Upon the Malvern Hills ; And lifts a tiny tuft of flowers, To take the sunshine and the showers, The heats and dewy chills. We may not think a soul is there, Nor courage, though it seems to dare The rains, the early snows ; Nor patience, though so late it clings, Nor pity for unhappier things, Though round rough stems it grows. Nor any joy to be admired, Nor soft desire to be desired, Although so fair it be. Yet, gentle maid, I pray thee make A parable hereof, and take This fable unto thee ! c 2 (20) Catchwords Though joy and grief and pain More fast our memories bleach Than sun and wind and rain The fall'n leaves of the beech : Yet what light things remain ! Some look, some little speech, Remembered, brings again His life's great hour to each. (21 ) Found Drowned The sigh of the sea-wind wakes not ' The dead in the deep : The lapse of the light wave breaks not Their dreamless sleep. Nor the sorrow of those that loved them, Nor the love of the loved, again Can make this thing that the light waves flin°- A creature of joy and pain. (22) The Myriad-Mother The storm is dying with the day, And crimson fringes fret the gray ; The shifting clouds show lakes of blue, And in the West the sun looks through. Listen, through all the woods is plain The music of melodious rain, And from the oak the blackbird's psalm Hushes the weeping woods to calm. O Nature, whom thy children trust, Mother of myriads, it is just ! My grief has had thy tears awhile ; Smile now for others who can smile ! (2 3 ) At Even O toilers of the day ! How, when the even-calm Droppeth like sweetest balm Upon your weary brows, can ye not pray ? But nay ! Some to the hot play-house, Some to the rank carouse, Forgetting God, ye go astray. And all the while above, The lamps of heavenly love, The shining stars, show the more excellent way. (H) Winged Ants These little crawling ants for one day's space Had Iris-wings of gossamer, and flew, Light as the down of thistles, in the face Of smiling heaven, whose frown not yet they knew. The world was all a wonder, green and blue ; And light the labour down soft winds to race, Ere yet they learned earth's dust to be their place, Toil their inheritance, and death their due. O human toilers ! though no good ye know But labour, and no certain goal but death, Was not your youth in dreams iridian dressed ? Why will ye those bright memories forgo, Nor list again your childhood's lore, which saith, Not life laborious, but life winged, is best ? (25 ) The Lodestar What shipmen steering by yon star What separate ports have gained ! What climes, what seas, what havens far By that one guide attained ! So shines the unreached Heavenly Light To every seeking soul, And guides each several seeker right Unto his several goal. (26) In a Cage O heart, what boots thy wild wing-beating At prison bars ? To thee the hope of flowers is cheating As hope of stars. What sadness can the sunlight bring thee, The air so mild ? What sorrow can the blithe birds sing thee To weep so wild ? Alas ! the Spring is in all places, And soft the air ; The woods are bright with primrose faces, And I not there ! (27) Poeta atque Navis Poeta. Art thou, poor wave-beat hull, the same We watched amid the port's acclaim Receive on wreathed prow thy name ? Poor ship ! How hard have dealt with thee The fortunes of the wind and sea, Who seemed for fairer fate to be ! Navis. And thou, poor world-sick soul, art thou The same on whose unwrinkled brow Was set for crown the laurel bough ? Now have I rest from wind and wave : But thou hast still the storms to brave Of life whose haven is the grave. (28) Shadows Most strange it is to stand when shades are free — Loosed from the light that chained them here and there, To hold their hushed dominion every- where — To stand and commune with them silently. For one was bound by daylight's tyrant glare The faithful follower of a cur to be ; And one was forced — light fetters needed he — To wait all day upon a maiden fair. And each wore then the shape ot love or loathing Of him whom Day their daylong master made ; Now all have doffed their loved or hated clothing, And mingle o'er the earth in shapeless shade. And we, when Death shall lose our souls from Self, Shall shudder to have served so foul an elf. "• "~"' - (*9> The Sinner I saw one crouching in a place of gloom, Loaded with chains, abject and miserable. A prayer broke from him : suddenly the room Lightened, and lo, an angel veritable Straight from God's presence. TV iron ponderable Shrivelled like web-work of Arachne's loom ; He stretched his limbs, he changed that living tomb For space and light and airs esperitable. I saw him kneeling, weeping praise to God. I looked again : the prisoner, lately free, Of his own will had entered that dark door Again — again his limbs the fetters wore By his own will. O Jesu ! can Thy blood, Can all the might of Heaven save him, or me ? Part II Love :- us riM ■A ( 33 ) Love's Largesse The heaven has emptied all her stars Into the glimmering sea ; Yet in yon skies the lifted eyes Find not one less to be. So Love gives all ; and lo, the hand Emptied, the head stripped bare, Are ringed and crowned more richly round With jewels yet more rare. (34) Life and Love Bright is that wave of night With a happy tremulous light On whose wide-wandering breast One wavering star doth rest. Till the night-wind dies away, And the star fades out in the day, And the wave sinks down to sleep Unknown in the heaving deep. (35) Mother-of-Pearl Not from all shells in Indian bays Are pearls to win ; Nor hath the gentle heart always A love within. But where the pearl hath lain, the shell Shows yet the sheen ; And there's a soul-look that doth tell Where love hath been. D 2 (36) The Words of Lovers The sweetest words that tongue has said, Or songs that lips have sung, Are sad with thoughts of lovers dead, And many a silent tongue ; Yet faintly fragrant as perfume Which age on age has lain In sepulchres of scented gloom, Now used ot men again. MS (37) Darkening Years Love drinks our young sorrows up, As the light Exhaleth from the blossom-cup The dews of night. Alas, the day when grief grows stronger In darkening years ! Alas, the day when love no longer Can dry our tears ! (38) A Rippled Stone Sands, forsaken, keep The impress of sea-kisses ; As lovers' lips in sleep Repeat the day's caresses. And often hearts hard-grown, Deep-hidden and discerned not, Have kept the tale in stone Of love-tides that returned not. (39) Two Dreams A DREAM of light ! A sunlit sea Melting in bright Infinity. O Light ! O Love ! For ever and evermore ! A dream of night ! — A stream's dark flow ; Glimmering white Of chillest snow. O Night ! O Death ! For ever and evermore ! (4°) A Butterfly on a Glacier THE_wind blows warm from Italy Across the wastes of snow ; And thou, poor bright-winged butterfly, Dreamedst — how shculdst thou know ?- To follow the delicious breeze To new strange flowers on honied leas. So, wind of Love, thou whisperest Of warm, enchanted lands ; And lur'st the heart to leave its rest And follow Love's commands ; Then leav'st it, as the butterfly, Alone in icy wastes to die. (4i ) After their Year How lightly waver down through slanting b.eams The leaves grown sere ! Ev'n so unheeded fall Love's faded dreams After their year. But oh ! the green leaf, and the living love ! Storms rend the sky, And light is darkened in the heaven above If these must die. UO " Where all Love's Pilgrims come " This is the grave of Love, By tears kept green. We know he is dead, sweet Love, So long unseen. And this is his grave, we know ; For here in Spring The first blue violets blow, The first birds sing. 43 Star-Glimpses When the night-wind stirs the pine, Comes and goes the sweet star-shine Through the boughs — a soul divine. When love breathes, the deeps of being Dazzle suddenly our seeing, Like a star through dark boughs fleeing. (44) Vibrations What wonder if, when Love awakes Suddenly, the tense heart breaks ! As at the organ's thundering Snaps the lute's responsive string. Ah, sadder heart, where Love has grown Stealthily, his name unknown ! As at some wandering noiseless air The wind-harp wakens to despair. (45) A Day of Love Dear is the sunny between-while Of April skies, Though black with storm in the mean- while The clouds arise. Tho' the clouds that shall burst on the morrow Be gathering above, So dear in a-year of sorrow Is a day of Love (46) What is Love but a Dreamer ? Fluttering, see, from the sunny wall Shell-pink petals of roses fall, Wavering on to the glassy stream ; Softer than kisses given in dream By lips that kiss not in waking day ; Fairy boats, they are borne away ; Airy fancies, that come not again ; Lover's visions, that end in pain. Well may Love wear wistful eyes ! Well may all love-words end in sighs ! What is Love but a dreamer — his dream What but a rose-leaf dropped on a stream (47) The Song-Master Know ye in the days of Spring, When the new-leafed woodlands ring, Some rich moment when a hush Falls on the loud-throated thrush, And the gold-mouthed blackbirds pour Their Pactolian tides no more ? Rare, ah ! rare the silence then ! For, unheard of dull-eared men, Love himself, the Master's way, Sings the birds to silence. — They, Listening, learn, and after sing Sweeter all the days of Spring. (48) The Herald-Flower First Love is like the early daffodil That lightens the whole world with hope of Spring, And sees not its own prophecies fulfil. For when the leaves break forth and thrushes sing, The herald-flower is drooping. So the chill Takes Love when he hath taught the heart to sing. (49 Lost Leaves of the Greek Anthology Halcyon, by the gods' decree, For her love and sorrow's wage, Nesteth in a summer sea, Though the winter round doth rage. Since the gods love lovers so, They may jest at fortune's jars ; Ports they have no pilots know, And in storm behold the stars. From earthy crust The crystal core : From livid rust The shining ore : From natural lust, Refined thrice o'er, Love the august Which gods adore. (5°) A feeble hand can spoil the flowers That once were all the garden's joy And lives so bright as once were ours Are spoilt by Love — a little boy. {With a mirror) I send thee, love, for thy sole view, A picture of my heart most true, A portrait marvellous indeed, A secret thou alone canst read, For thou alone beholdest there What always in my heart I bear. So sweet is my love's name that all Seem, chancing in the ways Another by this name to call, To crown her with full praise. (5i ) The lyre of Love I locked away, Its chords were bright and true. Is not to-morrow as to-day, To sing Love's service due ? In rust and dust I turned the key To take again my lyre : The tuneful shell was cracked, ah me ! And broke each golden wire. Woman is like the Sea, y-wis _ That changes every hour, but is The same through all the centuries. E 2 Part III Man's Love (55) In Inferno Sustulit Oculos You— and I did not know !— Were in the world with me ! And nothing between us there But land and sea ! I played at love with women, I played at labour with men ; You— and I did not know ! — Were there all then. Nothing of Heaven seemed certain, Nothing of Earth sublime ; You— and I did not know !— There all the time. You, with the angel wings, Who walk in heavenly light, Whom the Great Gulf keeps from me In the fiery night. (56) In Exitu Amoris Never a love to be loved again, Long as I live, by me ! What, if I drag awhile the chain ? It is broken, and I am free. Never a song to be sung again, When the woodland thrills with song, And the primrose lightens the darkening lane As the April days grow long ! Never a dream to be dreamed again, When music softly plays, And the soul breaks free from the tyrannous brain, And wanders in starry ways ! Never a heart to be hot again, Or a soul with itself at war ! Never a smile to be Heaven to gain, Or a face to be hungered for ! (57) Cynthia When she arose, as the maid-moon rises, Hallowing the darkened air, A thousand silver and gold surprises Sprang round her everywhere. The old worn world was a new strange world, Wonder and joy were there ; And my heart like a late-born flower unfurled That never had hope to be fair. (58) A Song of Farewell Fade, vision bright ! What clinging hands can stay thee ? Die, dream of light ! What clasping hands can pray thee r Farewell, delight ! I have no more to say thee. The gold was gold, The little while it lasted ; The dream was true, Although its joy be blasted ; That hour was mine, Although so swift it hasted. (59) A Love-Song I have no armour 'gainst thine eyes, When thou dost smile on me; Mine ears they are not enow wise To shut their doors to thee, When, like the morn-arousing thrush, Thou callest out of love's long hush. The rain that from the sea arose, A vapour rare and free, By clouds and springs and rivers goes Resistless to the sea. And from the heart, hands, eyes of me Love born of thee draws back to thee. (6o) Omens and Dreams There was a moaning in earth and air The day we parted, And a wind went by like the breath of despair To the broken-hearted ; But little we dreamed of the coming pain, As we murmured low, To meet again ! But a yellow sunset lit the West, And the snow-clad trees Bowed to the leaden water's breast In the pitiless breeze. Farewell, we said, Farewell for a day ! But the sad wind sighed, Farewell for aye ! (6i ) The Afterglow Here there is rain, and dead leaves whirling ? I hear not, see not ! — In my eyes Is sunlight, in my ears the swirling Of snow-fed waters. — Which are lies ? So rich a glory streams about you, That one day with you shines afar, Down through all darkened days without you. As through dull lamp-light shines a star. (62) Illumination Other faces, yes, Have lent for me A moment's loveliness To land and sea. Thine has been as that One day of Spring, When up the heart flies, at Heaven's gate to sing. C6 3 ) Visa Mihi Veritas The light of Heaven, that fills all space In little stars doth shine ; In miniature our souls embrace The measureless Divine. And I have thought a girl's soft eyes And simple look might he The very Truth of earth and skies Made visible to me. (6 + ) The Word after Farewell Not in the night of thy sorrow I fear thy forgetting ; But when the unmindful bright morrow Arise from this darkened day's setting, Oh, let not thy heart put away With its grief all the love of to-day ! In thine eyes, when thou smilest again, Let a softer light be, — As the sun returns after the rain, — Remembering thy last smile on me ; And the roses of Love all thy years Be bright with the pearls of past tears ! (6 5 ) Together, Once Together, once, in light of day We stood, and I had leave to say Whate'er I would. Ah, well-a-day ! How could I speak of love ? My heart was happy as the bird That soars and sings, and every word Light as the summer air that stirred The summer leaves above. Together, now, in dreams alone I stand with thee ; and now my tone Is pleading as the marsh-wind's moan Beside the sad salt sea ; O love, I cry, for sweet Love's sake, O love, reply to my heart's ache, Or, love, I die ! — And then I wake, And know thou'rt far from me. (66) Outre-Mer If thou shouldst call across the sea, I think thy voice would reach to me, I think my heart would answer thee In thine extremest need. Or if, laid deep in sepulchre, Thou calledst me, I dare aver The dust that was my heart should stir, The dust itself should bleed. Or else, love, if it be not so, What good thing has Love left to show, What thing at all, when Fate says No To all we counted on ? A heart-prick in some wild-flower's scent : A sting in places where we went : A world all sand — all water spent — The morning mirage gone. (6 7 ) Kisses The wave, when the ship goes onward, Forgets the kiss of the keel ; 'And the wind, that the arrow startled, The keen sweet sting of the steel. Are kisses so soon forgotten ? Nay, what to you and me, Who have walked in Eden together, Are tales of the wind and the sea ! F 2 (68) Ask of the Nightingale Ask of the nightingale A song, and she shall sing thee Such falls as cannot fail Some inmost joy to bring thee. But I, so fond, so fain, Am but as echo to thee, That calls from walls again Thine own sweet name to woo thee. (69) A Song of Love If in thine eyes I saw that softer light That in the skies Doth herald Spring's delight, Ah, love, how loud my heart should sing, Ev'n as the blackbird to the Spring ! ► If on thy cheek I saw that warm hue play That doth bespeak The dawn of a new day, Ah, love, how like the lark should rise My soul in rapture to the skies ! If from thy mouth I heard such whisper low As from the South Doth through the pinewoods blow, How should my whole soul murmur through With music, as the pinewoods do ! (70) A Silver Night The silver shield of heaven all night Defend thee, love, and be thy light ; And all the wakeful starry eyes Keep watch above thee till day rise ! The idly wandering winds, that blow Up to thy casement, thence shall go More solemn with such joy to bear Adown the silver-dusted air. Till all the pine-tree tongues shall move To syllable thy name of love, And pass in whispers on to me The wind-borne wonder-tale of thee. (7i) Ehcu, Fugaces ! The wheels whirl faster year by year Adown the slope of life ; I hear The roaring of the Doom more near. I catch at every flower that grows ; I grasp the thorns and miss the rose ; And life ungovernably goes. O vision of an angel face, That floatest nigh me for a space, A dream of music and of grace ! I know not what thou art ; but bend Thy soft eyes on me, and defend From the fierce terror of the end ! (70 A Summer Cloud Yes, it was you, The soft cloud in the summer blue, So white, so warm, That brought the thunder and the storm. So warm, so white, With broad rays like a ladder bright, That reached to heaven, The very highest of the seven. Earth seemed as fair, As crystalline the liquid air, As painters drew In Italy when Art was new. Yes, it was you, Transfigured earth awhile, then drew The dreadful rain That drowned a whole life's garnered gain. (73) A Fallen Idol If Dante, when he steeled his soul To face the fires of Hell By dreams of Beatrice — his goal The Heaven where she did dwell If, having lost the world for this, He, in the lowest Pit Had found her whom he thought in Bliss, My fate and his would fit. (7+) Any Man to any Woman As some musk-breathing night of May When odorous dews grow rare On flowers too glad to sleep away One hour of life so fair : As some mid-winter night of pain, When every shivering tree Grows ice-sheathed from the deadly rain — These hast thou been to me. (75) A Man's Question Why did you snap the string, When it was rendering At your light touch its fullest sweetest tone ? Did it not give its whole Of music ? and its soul, Was it not utterly and all your own ? One moment — a low chord Ringing with love's reward And crowned hope that trembled into peace ; Then with light violence You smote the string-strained tense And bade for ever that soft voice to cease. (7M The Bird and the Beacon Poor bird that battiest with the storm To gain the beacon-light, Then fall'st a wounded woeful form Into the gulfs of night ! A thousand lips that light may bless : To thee 'tis the last bitterness. A light was given to the earth, Wearing a woman's name ; A thousand tongues have told her worth, And deathless is her fame. But I was the spent bird, that there Salvation sought, and found despair. (77) The Story of a Lover's Soul Oh, the days of a dawning rapture In earth and skies, When a callow soul came tame to the capture Of thy soft eyes ; When a fluttering heart to thy hand came meekly, As a 'scaped cage-bird when the wind blows bleakly ! All my heart at thy kisses kindled, As a wine-fed flame ; All my old self was scorched and dwindled, As a new self came ; As a new self grew, like the tender grasses In the blackened forest, when the fire passes. Oh, the days of the revelation Of the glory of Love ! Earth itself was a new creation ; And Heaven above, Height beyond height, unreached, undreamed, Wide open to my winged soul seemed. (78) Oh, the days of the desolation, The days of fire ! The darkened heavens — the desecration Of high desire ! When the heart, that was Love's Dodona, lies A blackened desert where dust-whirls rise. (79) The Poisoned Butterfly How should the butterfly divine, When on the lily's crest he lit, How poisoned was her honey-wine, — How nevermore his wings would flit Like flame among the woods of pine ? How should the butterfly have guessed, When in the lily's heart he lay, •Nor ever folded to the nest, As blossoms fold at close of day, How near the sun was to the West ? How should the butterfly have deemed The drowsiness that fell on him Was more than when at noon he dreamed, Half drowsy, on the rose's brim — So sweet, so mild his slumber seemed ! But I was such a butterfly, Who fluttered to a flower as fair, Nor dreamed from such delight to fly, So sweetly poisoned was the snare : Now, sick past help, she casts me by. (8o) Finis sine Fine The fires in ashes lie That leapt so wildly high ; The last faint sparks are dying dying ; Nothing is left of love But vapours ris'n above, And ashes coldly lying. Is this, is this the end ? O love, O life, O friend ! A raptured hour, a swift forgetting, And earth for evermore Lone as an island shore Where breaks no wave but brings some old regretting ? (8i ) The Happy Spring The lark 'gan sing, The lamb was playing, The happy Spring All hearts obeying. And then I crept Where Love lay sleeping, And wept, and wept, And still am weeping. (82) The One Day In a labyrinthine woodland I met the Lady May, Fresh with showers, sweet with flowers, And I followed all the day Her footsteps in the long grass Where the dew was brushed away. When the even fell she vanished, And the night came dark with rain ; Through the woods the spirits banished Shrieked fitfully in pain ; And I had lived the one day That in life comes not again. (§3) The Magic Maiden Is there poison on thy lips Magic maiden ? Like the luscious flowers death-laden The wild bee sips, In deep forest glooms, Whose stars are blooms. Though mine eyes drank love at thine 'Twas but pastime, Till, alas ! we met the last time ; Thy lips touched mine. And now I draw to thee, Thou moon — I see. c 2 (8+) A Magic Circle Ah, halting oft is human speech, Darling, whose name is Love's for me ; But as we sat upon the beach No words we needed, each from each ; Such voices found we in the sea, And in the winds that wandered free. What need to say / love you, when Your hair was blown about my face ? While the sea's music seemed to pen A fold enchanted far from men (Such airy walls as wizards trace), To shut the world out from our place. Oh, wonder of Love's supreme day ! That light is faded long ago ; The sea, and all the world, is gray ; But that one spot of earth for aye Is ringed with magic radiance, though A thousand pass there and not know. (85) Earth has Forgotten Earth has forgotten Her Eden days, And the garden hidden From human gaze, The angel footsteps, The thornless ways. O world unwitting ! No spot of thee But might in a moment All Eden be, Could I have my lost love There with me ! (86) Via Invia Were any fain to reach a star, He would not fashion stairways high, Seek foot by foot to climb so far, Or step by step ascend the sky. Nay, he would scorn the eagle's wings, To dare an undiscovered way, Leap out upon the night's blue rings, And hail at dawn his wished-for day. I will not vainly seek to thee By ladder-steps of wealth or fame, Till some few feet below me be The world — thy distance still the same. Love's is an empire larger far Than land or sea or liquid air. Though thou wert further than a star, Love easily should bring me there. (§7) A Rondel of the Ivy-Leaf The ivy-leaf she loves to wear In token of Fidelity ; For ever-green's the ivy tree. And she's as faithful as she's fair. ' Yet scarce my breaking heart can bear For ever at her breast to see The ivy-leaf she loves to wear In token of Fidelity. Were she less faithful or less fair ! O Love, forgive the blasphemy ! But since her love is not for me To me 'tis token of Despair, The ivy-leaf she loves to wear. (88) A Rondel of Absence When my dear lady is away, Her lightest word is then my law ; As wayward sands, when tides with- draw, Repeat the wavelets' lightest play. Though daily I should disobey When she is by, and show no awe, When my dear lady is away, Her lightest word is then my law. Fierce as a flagellant ] flay My own back for the slightest flaw, That she would pardon if she saw : I pardon nothing in that day When my dear lady is away. (89) Love Sonnets. I From woods, from mountains, and from lonely streams, But most from fair girl-faces I have drawn The inspiration which in after dreams Floods all the spirit, like a golden dawn. But now to be half-human, as a Faun, Or more than human, as an Angel, seems Alone desirable ; whom fancy deems Awake to beauty, but from love withdrawn. For on thy loveliness if I could gaze And feel, not human love, but that desire, Spirit exalting, which the stars inspire On summer nights or seas on summer days : Then might I read, writ clear in human eyes, The undeciphered speech of seas and skies. (9°) Love Sonnets. II Thy face should be a Tintoret's despair ; Nor Raphael nor Leonardo could, Limning thy beauty on their lifeless wood, Reveal thyself that art chief beauty there. Though all the world before thy picture stood, And called it beautiful beyond compare, I only might stand by in bitter mood, Searching that fair face for the self more fair. Swift clouds they paint, winds blowing, seas in madness, The lightning's flashing, and the rainbow's sheen ; Thee may they paint, as some men see and hear thee ; But who can give the glory, who the gladness, The hope, the sanctity, that is not seen, But streams into my soul when I am near thee ? (9i ) Love Sonnets. Ill Now hath the ageing year forgot thee, June, And doteth on the Mcenad month, October; How harlot-like she wastes his wealth ! How soon His gold shall all be gone, and he left sober ! Yet can I not forget thy days of swoon, Dear June, at Henley ; though the daft disrober Beatf his leaf-tatters all the afternoon About me, playing mad to please October. Still seems the dull day must be brighter there, The trees full-leafed, the meadow-grass full green ; While Thames, here turbid, there steals softly on A dream of silver, her light boat to bear. Yet well I know how changed is that fair scene : Or hides it in some mystic Avalon ? (9*) Love Sonnets. IV And all my dream of her — is that but dream- ing ? Was it not heaven at her side to be ? Or this too, is it as a mirage gleaming, A desert that, looked back on, seems a sea ? A desert, that day ? Nay then, what redeem- ing Hath this day ? — Speak, dull memory ! Was not she The vision of the Grail, all heaven streaming About her, for all white souls, and for me ? Not so : though now a light is on those hours, Most were not golden that I had with her, Many were maddened. — Peace ! my dream is now More true than memory ; 'tis a dream of flowers ; That was a day of flowers : no wind did stir, And I was with her 'neath the willow- bough. (93) Love Sonnets. V I wake from one more Circe-draught of love, And all my soul is sick with sulphur fumes And poisonous salt savours. Yet, above The noisome hell-reek that my soul consumes, The blood-taste and the blackness, I am 'ware Of some o'erwhelming terror that before O'ertook me not in my most dark despair ; A* cold wind drives me to some dreadful door. Death is it ? I have long been friends with Death. Hell is it ? I have oft been housed in Hell. It is not Madness, though it maddeneth, Nor fanged Remorse — I know Remorse too well. What, Love ! were those but flittings, this thy flying ? What, Love ! were those thy slumbers, this thy dying ? Part IV Maiden's Love (97) The Story of the Rose The rose said, Yes ! And the butterfly — Ah, you may guess His ecstasy ! How like a kiss his wing-plumes brushed Her petals, and how fair she blushed. The rose said, Stay ! But another rose Beside bloomed gay : The bright wings rose, Across the upturned face they cast A moment's shadow, and then passed. But ere the bird Of night was calling, Unseen, unheard, Were petals falling, Like drops in caverns, leaf by leaf, Done with life, and love, and grief. (98) To-day He Loves Me To-day he loves me ! — Time, stand still ! Haste not, sun, behind the hill ! To-day he loves me : no to-morrow Can touch this one to-day with sorrow. As a crystal well o'erspills With sweet water from the hills, So my heart o'erbrims with blisses, Of looks, of love-words, and of kisses. And through many a day of drought Love shall come to draw thereout, Singing low — though this to-day Be then a year-old yesterday — " To-day he loves me ! " ('Tis Love's way). (99) "Si vous croyez que je vais dire." My lips must say not, My eyes betray not My heart's hid treasure ; My hands must deaden, My feet go leaden, Not leap in measure. For how they would rate me, Preach me and prate me, Scoff at and scold me, Should they discover Who is my lover, And what he has told me ! H 2 ( ioo) Ce que vivent les Roses. The stream, that flows for ever, Whispered to the daffodil, " Would you not be as the river, Ever living, ever flowing, Never fading, never knowing Death the chill ? " But the daffodil made answer, " I have lived one day of Spring, When the wind with me was dancer ; — Oh, the brightness ! Oh, the fleet- ness ! Oh, the rapture ! What more sweet- ness Could life bring ? " ( ioi ) I and You Man diftereth from man, as leaf from leaf, As star from star ; And ev'n the hearts that suffer the same grief Are parted far. And ev'n the souls, that through the windows gaze Of wistful eyes, Are aureoled each for each, as by the haze Of wintry skies. ( 102 ) A Woman's Question Why do you love me so well r I am only a woman : No angel from Heaven or Hell, But earthly and human. And you — by your eyes' flame I see, By your heart-beat I know it, Have dreamed me a Beatrice — me, You Dante, my poet. Shall I yield you my soul-stuff to be Your soul-fire's fuel ? There is that would take fire in me, But were it not cruel To feed for one hour a fire, How sacred soever r Then see my delight, your desire, Tn ashes for ever ? ( 103 ) Not in Naxos An August day — a sky o'ercast — A gray Down sloping to the sea — A sea like a face where death has passed, Motionless but for misery. Hardly a breath in the heavy air, Hardly a wave on the heaving tide ; The very pebbles were silent there, Chatterers stilled by the great despair. No voice was there, nor sound, beside A faint dull moaning that rose and died, The mere heart-beat of the ocean wide. Above was the waste Down, bare and blind, The dancing place of the winter wind ; Now silent and lone as the wan lamps show The dancing rooms when the dancers go. Half-way down, from the cliff-face lent A tower of chalk, like a battlement, With a crest of waving grass, like hair. Motionless sat a maiden there ; Her locks streamed loose, her lips were pale Her eyes were fixed on a far-off sail. ( io4 ) An old-world story, a far-ofF woe, Made beautiful by its long ago ? Nay, 'tis a different story this ! Yet on her lips is her lover's kiss ; Yet in her heart is the agony ; For this was yesterday, and I, Who tell it you in the talk of men I was the Ariadne then. (i°5) A Story heard on a Violin She loved. Her whole heart grew around A baser nature, which it bound With beauty, as the purple vine, Which makes the stone or stem divine. She lost. His grosser nature woke And from her glorious bondage broke ; And she was left, a plant forlorn, With drooping leaves and tendrils torn. Know ye the maiden ? — I have met One like her. In her eyes lay yet The pain. From viol-strings she drew A human cry that thrilled me through. ( io6) A Revolt Pale and passionless star, Steadily wheeling afar From the golden Sun, thy lord What is thy love's reward ? Cycles ever the same, Timeless, tireless, tame. Rather be my love's fashion The fiery meteor's passion, That scorns the planet's orbit, And ever flies to the Sun, Till its glorious lover absorb it, And life ends when love is won. ( io7 ) Planctus Displicentis Why was I not born fair ? Not as world-famous Helen, past compare, Drawing all hearts and eyes To madness or magnificent emprise : But as some village maid, Chosen May-queen beneath the hawthorn shade, Not fair enough to move All women's jealousy, but one man's love. INDEX TO FIRST LINES PAGE A dream of light !—.... -39 A feeble hand can spoil the flowers . - 5° Ah, halting oft is human speech . .84 An August day— a sky o'ercast— . • .103 And all my dream of her— is that but dreaming ? 92 Art thou, poor wave-beat hull, the same . 27 Ask of the nightingale 68 As some musk-breathing night of May . . 74 Bright is that wave of night 34 Dear is the sunny between-while . . -45 Earth has forgotten 8 5 Fade, vision bright ! 58 First love is like the early daffodil ... 48 Fluttering, see, from the sunny wall . 4 6 From earthy crust 49 From woods, from mountains, and from lonely streams °9 Halcyon, by the gods' decree • 49 Here there is rain, and dead leaves whirling? . 61 (no) PAGE How lightly waver down through slanting beams 41 How should the butterfly divine . If Dante, when he steeled his soul If in thine eyes If thou shouldst call across the sea I have no armour 'gainst thine eyes I met Queen Spring in the Hanger In a labyrinthine woodland .... I saw one crouching in a place of gloom I send thee, love, for thy sole view Is there poison on thy lips ? . I wake from one more Circe-draught of love Know ye in the days of Spring . Lay by, sweet woodlands, your array . Love drinks our young sorrows up Man differeth from man, as leaf from leaf . Most strange it is to stand when shades are free My lips must say not Never a love to be loved again Not from all shells in Indian bays Not in the night of thy sorrow Now hath the ageing year forgot thee, June O heart, what boots thy wild wing-beating Oh, the days of a dawning rapture Oh, the Maytime O little singing bird (Ill) PAGE Other faces, yes 62 O toilers of the day ! . .... 23 Pale and passionless star 106 Poor bird that battiest with the storm ... 76 Roses drop their petals all around . . .16 Sands, forsaken, keep 38 She loved. Her whole heart grew around 105 Skimming an idle stone along the lake . . n So sweet is my love's name, that all . . . 50 The doors of Eden close 10 The fires in ashes lie 80 The heaven has emptied all her stars 33 The ivy-leaf she loves to wear .... 87 The lark 'gan sing 81 The light of Heaven, that fills all space . 63 The lyre of Love I locked away . . . 51 There is a little plant that weaves . . .19 There was a moaning in earth and air . . 60 The rose said, Yes ! 97 These little crawling ants for one day's space . 24 The sigh of the seawind wakes not . . .21 The silver shield of heaven all night ... 70 The storm is dying with the day . ... 22 The stream, that flows for ever .... 100 The sweetest words that tongue has said . 36 The wave, when the ship goes onward . 67 (H2) PAGE The wheels whirl faster year by year . . . 71 The wind blows warm from Italy ... 40 This is not Shelley — this dead mask of Death ! . 3 This is the grave of Love 42 Though joy and grief and pain .... 20 Thy face should be a Tintoret's despair . . 90 To-day he loves me ! — Time, stand still ! . .98 Together, once, in light of day .... 65 Were any fain to reach a star .... 86 What shipmen steering by yon star ... 25 What wonder if, when Love awakes ... 44 When my dear lady is away 88 When she arose, as the maid-moon rises . . 57 When the night-wind stirs the pine ... 43 When woods are gold and hedges gay . . 18 Why did you snap the string . . . -75 Why do you love me so well ? .... 102 Why was I not born fair? 107 Wisdom to others — to see 8 Woman is like the Sea, y-wis . . . 51 Yes, it was you 72 You — and I did not know ! — • • • • 55 w This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 10M-11-50 2955)470 REMINGTON RAND INC. 20 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 366 592 PR 1*161 B225m T.'.IE LIESARY