MOON-MOTHBeyond the sun, beside a crystal seaShe ruled her isle of lapis lazuli.Her palaces of marble, agate, jadeRose like a sheaf of savage flowers and laidA splendour on the waves that only night could fade.And for her nameless sins and cruelties,Murders of love-mad men and lusts and lies,Her sentence fell and she was swept awayFrom flaming pomps and crimes and royal sway,Hurled from the joy of life, rapt from the light of day.Yet, being fairest far and loveliestOf any in a woman's body drest,Fate banished not her beauty from the earth--Only her evil happiness and mirth,And left her living dead, doomed to eternal dearth.The Shadows that do mould our destinyWilled her a moon-moth evermore to be--Woman and insect one in mingled state,A chimera without a peer, or mate,To ancient Night inscribed and Darkness dedicate.By day she sleeps, even as the vampires sleep,Behind her sombre wings, that fold and keepHer body's glory hidden: they are brown,Grizzled and amber, jagged and slashed adownWith faded serecloth grey--a winding-sheet for gown.And while she hides within some tawny brakeHer shard but echoes the dead leaf and snake,Where, tranced in slumber, through the long day's primeHer motley coverings harmonious chimeWith sad, crepuscular shades in dusky, twilight rhyme.Invisible thus; but when returning nightDrowns with a purple torrent all the light,She rises woman high and spreads her wing,A rare, unparagoned, unearthly thingBeyond the dream of joy or grief's imagining.Upon her head two radiant feathery raysOf crocus fire flash upward; but the gazeFrom her dim, poisonous, and anguished eyesThrobs out with passionate, violet miseries,In hate that never fades and woe that never dies.Her body, like the heart of a white rose,Shines in the petals of her wings and glows;Her pinions--azure, lilac, marigold--Wide on the dark deliciously unfoldAs any rainbow bright, as any glacier cold.Lit with her own and inner gleam, she shinesLike a low meteor through the lians and vines,Flies upward high beyond the forest towers,Then swoops and hawks along night-hidden bowers,To hang on murmuring plumes and drink the livid flowers.Most fair, most foul, at Moira's stern decreeThe radiant monster wanders wretchedlyHaunting each strand and isle of that lone shoreWhere never human eye may see her more,Or sentient soul delight and tremble and adore.Yet deep in dreams I often faintly hear,Like a sad wind that strokes my sleeping ear,By fairy waters of that far lagoon,The moon-moth wailing, wailing to the moonThrough many a silver night at hour of plenilune.THE HUNTINGWhen red sun fox steals down the sky,And darkness dims the heavens high,There leap again upon his tracksThe eager, starry, hunting packs.They glitter, glitter, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian bright as day;While in the gloaming, far below,Brown owl doth shout "Hi! Tally Ho!Sun fox hath gone away!"To music of the spheres they sweepOver the western world asleep;Then in the east, with sudden rush,Sun fox shall whisk his white-tipped brush.The field is fading, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian growing grey;While morning leaps the hither hillAnd herald lark shouts with a will,"Sun fox hath gone away!"Oh, Huntress fond and silly stars--White Venus, fiery, futile Mars,In vain your pack ye whirl and castUpon the marches of the vast;In vain ye glitter, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian's arrows flyIn silver shafts of broken light;For ne'er shall day be caught by night,And sun fox cannot die.THE GOOD GIRLWhen you were born, a shooting star did sunderThe nightly void, and flashed to earth and broughtEndowment of rare magic and sweet wonderAnd gifts beyond your mother's highest thought.Oh, blessed be your soul of cheerfulness,Your mind content and steadfast set, to holdSuch level journeying through storm and stressOf life's rough weather and hope's heat and cold.You come, a restful breath of evening windUpon the parched day, and cannot seeYour winning humour hearten many a mindWhere you bestow yourself unconsciously.Never the violet her own fragrance knew:Even such a flowery innocent are you.THE LOVERUnder the silver thatch, where dwells my love,About her dormer window, in the straw,The sparrows build, and with their morning talkOften awaken her.And by the lattice climbs a crimson rose,Who, if he could but see my dinky dear,Before her loveliness, so wonderful,Would pale with jealousy.When the first glow of honeysuckle dawnCuddles her cottage in the dayspring light,I pass upon my woodland road to workAnd whistle as I come.And if she hear me and twinkle out of bedTo wave a kiss, then all my toil goes well;But if she heed me not, for weariness,How long the working day!THE MOTOR CAROwlet sat, so quiet and good,At the edge of Yarner Wood,While a mother owl hard bySought his supper silently.Sudden came two hideous screams,Wakened owlet from his dreams;Down the road, on unseen wing,Swept a vast and awful thing.Twice he heard the monster shriek,Saw its head and shining beakTwixt huge eyes, that burned the night,Brighter than the moon was bright.Hooting horribly it fled--Where the water-meadows spread."He will catch," thought owlet now,"That red thing they call the cow."Came his parent presently:Heard him squeak with fearful glee,"Mother dear, I've seen and heardSuch a devil of a bird!"THE SEA SCOUTSWhile all alone I wanderedAt even by the sea,Where winds and water ponderedOf how they came to be;Where kittiwakes were cryingAnd salty spindrift flyingThrough daylight slowly dyingA Shape confronted me.She faced the broad Atlantic--That maid of stately mien,Purer than foam, giganticAs Amazonian Queen.Her billowy robe, unknowing,How wild the wind was blowing,Showed not a throb or flowing,Hung steady and serene.It was no fellow beingFor she stood ten feet high,And seaward gazed, unseeingThe human passer-by;But only billows roaming,And wide-winged sea-fowl homingThrough crepuscule and gloamingBeneath an ashen sky.The spectre rose before meMost woeful, wan and whiteUpon that foreshore stormyBetween the day and night;And such an apparitionIn this unique position,Despite her sad conditionAwoke my wild delight.Then came three youthful creatures,And them I bade with aweBehold the mournful featuresOf phantom on the shore.They laughed and said she'd driftedTo land with bosom rifted--A figure-head upliftedFrom wreck of "Margery Dawe."They dared, those sea-scout shaversWho watched this lonely coast,Assert in treble quaversWe stood before a post;They treated as a fictionMy gratified convictionThat, in her pale affliction,We'd met a salt-sea ghost!Thus hard-eyed youth advancesBy shadowless, stark wayOur middle-aged romancesTo slight and scorn and slay;Our make-believe to tatter;Our gallant dreams to scatter;To flout our faiths and shatterOur twilight in their day.SONG FOR THE SPHERESA drop of fire from a flying sun--Sing, old stars, the World's begun.An ocean warm where electrons strive--Sing, old stars, the World's alive.Age upon age and link upon link--Shout, old stars, the World can think.War's red knife hisses home to the haft--Mourn, old stars, the World runs daft.Reason and Love shall conquer and reign--Sing, old stars, the World grows sane.Liberty, Liberty, Liberty!Shout, old stars, the World is free.THE CIRCLEWhen shepherd darkness folds the fading dayAnd faints the West beneath the world's wide brim,There stands a brotherhood, remote and dim,Of cowled and hooded wights rolled up in granite grey.Spirits of dusk from out a far-off primeBeyond the shadowy pale of bygone eld,Immutable and constant and unquelled,They hold their everlasting state and tryst with Time.These stones have seen the red-eyed wolf pack throngTo slay the fleeting elk upon the waste,And they have marked the cave bear's clumsy haste,Shuffling great golden furse and ragged rocks among.O cirque, what meanest thou? Sepulchral lore,Or ritual of the quick? Did thirsty godDrink blood of sacrifice upon this sod?Art thou a temple wrought for deities of yore?What dread, what joy, what Neolithic rule,What shouts of agony or pæans of praiseAwoke, ye stones, the morning of your days?They answer not, but seek the shadowy crepuscule.The Stone Man lifted them; his hairy handThey felt and knew, when Night's eternal browGleamed with another diadem than nowEre Egypt's mountain graves pressed on the desert sand.Bowed but enduring, Time hath failed to breakThat emblem of eternity they traceUpon the bosom of this desolate place;And holy shall it be for their most ancient sake.They have withdrawn upon the unseen lightOf immemorial time; the vanished pastReceives them once again to haunt her vast--A sanctity beyond wild Chaos and old Night.TO ANTHEA'S BOSOMWhen that I went, a little lad, to school--One half a cherub and one half a fool--The weary pedant dinned upon my earsThat all the world is but two hemispheres.Maybe I doubted then, for I was bornTo laugh the wisdom of the wise to scorn;But now, indeed, most surely it appearsThat all the world is but two hemispheres.DUSTA cone of dust is dancing at the lane end,Caught from the surface of the thirsty trackwayAnd dropped again, into annihilation,By gusts from nowhere.Upon the wheel of little whirlwind moulded,It billows in a wreath of spiral beauty,But, swifter than the smoke of fire dislimning,Endures no longer.So I, intrinsical one slippery momentShare with my brief, grey brother at the lane endHis buffet into being, then, unfettered,A like dismissal.Dust of the cosmos, you alone eternalImmutable behind a myriad garments,Your stars grow ripe upon the boughs of heaven;But you bate nothing.All one to you the forms and the reforming,The fashion of the man, or mouse, or mountain:So order be declared and conquered chaosDethroned for ever.YOUNG NIGHTWhen flitter-mice with zigzag flightSpecked the green sky at twilight dim;When the wise bird from out the brimOf forest darkness to the lightFloated and perched upon a height,With mellow voice to welcome night;When day was stolen from the daleTo leave, where little river goes,One farewell, dusky gleam of rose;When down the purple of the valeA wingèd beetle boomed his taleAnd night-moth drank from night-flow'r pale;When grey churn-owl within a gladePurred through the gloaming, till the skyThrobbed with his goblin melody;When, by her stone, the glow-worm playedAnd with an emerald lamp betrayedThe new-born dew-drops on the blade;When young Night's self in starry dressCame timid to her throne again--Sweet anodyne for dead day's painAnd fire and wound and fevered stress--With heart to soothe and will to bless,Then how I loved her loveliness!JILL BASSETTJill Bassett, she was dancing mad,And any ladWho'd win that most amazing maidMust needs be a light-footed blade.So said the folk; but I had pelf,And when the elfFound she might reign at Chadley Wood,Though I weren't young, she thought it good.She danced into my arms, and then,Along of menAnd some harsh words I'd got to say,One autumn time she danced away.She vanished, like a bow on rain,And, to be plain,I didn't feel no mighty wrenchNor much bewail the giglet wench.Then came a bit of funny newsFrom Billy Bewes:He'd seen the wretch at Christmas timeDancing in Plymouth pantomime!For five good year no more was heardOf the rash bird;Then danced she back; but not to I:Her mother took her in to die.Her breathing parts was nearly gone,Her dancing done.She wilted, like a davered rose;But I forgave her at the close.With Bassett folk they dug her pit;It wasn't fitThat she should lie where I shall go:Her mother granted that was so.Then, passing New Year's night, I sawUpon the hoarOf moony frost in churchyard groundThe woman dancing on her mound!I'll take my oath afore my GodShe swept the sodWith naked feet and showed her charmsAnd twirled about her twinkling arms.A brace of owls that saw her tooMade their hulloo,To which she danced so wondrous braveOver the silver on her grave.Mayhap the cold got in her bonesUnder the stones,And up the wilful ghostey cameTo warm herself at her old game.And I was on my hoss's back--I'd had my whack,But only just the usual three,And no man ever doubted me.TAILPIECEAt turn of night the wild geese flyAnd waken drowsy wonderBeneath their wingèd thunder;Then silence falls again,Until the homing barn-owls cryAnd ring with hollow laughter,From ivy-tod and rafter,The farm upon the plain.The lark's aloft, a bead of gold;While yet the earth lies darkling,His little body's sparkling:The sun has risen for him.A dotted track on dew-grey foldThe weary fox is leaving;I hear the plovers peeving;The morning star grows dim.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKPIXIES' PLOT***
MOON-MOTH
Beyond the sun, beside a crystal seaShe ruled her isle of lapis lazuli.Her palaces of marble, agate, jadeRose like a sheaf of savage flowers and laidA splendour on the waves that only night could fade.And for her nameless sins and cruelties,Murders of love-mad men and lusts and lies,Her sentence fell and she was swept awayFrom flaming pomps and crimes and royal sway,Hurled from the joy of life, rapt from the light of day.Yet, being fairest far and loveliestOf any in a woman's body drest,Fate banished not her beauty from the earth--Only her evil happiness and mirth,And left her living dead, doomed to eternal dearth.The Shadows that do mould our destinyWilled her a moon-moth evermore to be--Woman and insect one in mingled state,A chimera without a peer, or mate,To ancient Night inscribed and Darkness dedicate.By day she sleeps, even as the vampires sleep,Behind her sombre wings, that fold and keepHer body's glory hidden: they are brown,Grizzled and amber, jagged and slashed adownWith faded serecloth grey--a winding-sheet for gown.And while she hides within some tawny brakeHer shard but echoes the dead leaf and snake,Where, tranced in slumber, through the long day's primeHer motley coverings harmonious chimeWith sad, crepuscular shades in dusky, twilight rhyme.Invisible thus; but when returning nightDrowns with a purple torrent all the light,She rises woman high and spreads her wing,A rare, unparagoned, unearthly thingBeyond the dream of joy or grief's imagining.Upon her head two radiant feathery raysOf crocus fire flash upward; but the gazeFrom her dim, poisonous, and anguished eyesThrobs out with passionate, violet miseries,In hate that never fades and woe that never dies.Her body, like the heart of a white rose,Shines in the petals of her wings and glows;Her pinions--azure, lilac, marigold--Wide on the dark deliciously unfoldAs any rainbow bright, as any glacier cold.Lit with her own and inner gleam, she shinesLike a low meteor through the lians and vines,Flies upward high beyond the forest towers,Then swoops and hawks along night-hidden bowers,To hang on murmuring plumes and drink the livid flowers.Most fair, most foul, at Moira's stern decreeThe radiant monster wanders wretchedlyHaunting each strand and isle of that lone shoreWhere never human eye may see her more,Or sentient soul delight and tremble and adore.Yet deep in dreams I often faintly hear,Like a sad wind that strokes my sleeping ear,By fairy waters of that far lagoon,The moon-moth wailing, wailing to the moonThrough many a silver night at hour of plenilune.
Beyond the sun, beside a crystal seaShe ruled her isle of lapis lazuli.Her palaces of marble, agate, jadeRose like a sheaf of savage flowers and laidA splendour on the waves that only night could fade.
Beyond the sun, beside a crystal sea
She ruled her isle of lapis lazuli.
Her palaces of marble, agate, jade
Rose like a sheaf of savage flowers and laid
A splendour on the waves that only night could fade.
And for her nameless sins and cruelties,Murders of love-mad men and lusts and lies,Her sentence fell and she was swept awayFrom flaming pomps and crimes and royal sway,Hurled from the joy of life, rapt from the light of day.
And for her nameless sins and cruelties,
Murders of love-mad men and lusts and lies,
Her sentence fell and she was swept away
From flaming pomps and crimes and royal sway,
Hurled from the joy of life, rapt from the light of day.
Yet, being fairest far and loveliestOf any in a woman's body drest,Fate banished not her beauty from the earth--Only her evil happiness and mirth,And left her living dead, doomed to eternal dearth.
Yet, being fairest far and loveliest
Of any in a woman's body drest,
Fate banished not her beauty from the earth--
Only her evil happiness and mirth,
And left her living dead, doomed to eternal dearth.
The Shadows that do mould our destinyWilled her a moon-moth evermore to be--Woman and insect one in mingled state,A chimera without a peer, or mate,To ancient Night inscribed and Darkness dedicate.
The Shadows that do mould our destiny
Willed her a moon-moth evermore to be--
Woman and insect one in mingled state,
A chimera without a peer, or mate,
To ancient Night inscribed and Darkness dedicate.
By day she sleeps, even as the vampires sleep,Behind her sombre wings, that fold and keepHer body's glory hidden: they are brown,Grizzled and amber, jagged and slashed adownWith faded serecloth grey--a winding-sheet for gown.
By day she sleeps, even as the vampires sleep,
Behind her sombre wings, that fold and keep
Her body's glory hidden: they are brown,
Grizzled and amber, jagged and slashed adown
With faded serecloth grey--a winding-sheet for gown.
And while she hides within some tawny brakeHer shard but echoes the dead leaf and snake,Where, tranced in slumber, through the long day's primeHer motley coverings harmonious chimeWith sad, crepuscular shades in dusky, twilight rhyme.
And while she hides within some tawny brake
Her shard but echoes the dead leaf and snake,
Where, tranced in slumber, through the long day's prime
Her motley coverings harmonious chime
With sad, crepuscular shades in dusky, twilight rhyme.
Invisible thus; but when returning nightDrowns with a purple torrent all the light,She rises woman high and spreads her wing,A rare, unparagoned, unearthly thingBeyond the dream of joy or grief's imagining.
Invisible thus; but when returning night
Drowns with a purple torrent all the light,
She rises woman high and spreads her wing,
A rare, unparagoned, unearthly thing
Beyond the dream of joy or grief's imagining.
Upon her head two radiant feathery raysOf crocus fire flash upward; but the gazeFrom her dim, poisonous, and anguished eyesThrobs out with passionate, violet miseries,In hate that never fades and woe that never dies.
Upon her head two radiant feathery rays
Of crocus fire flash upward; but the gaze
From her dim, poisonous, and anguished eyes
Throbs out with passionate, violet miseries,
In hate that never fades and woe that never dies.
Her body, like the heart of a white rose,Shines in the petals of her wings and glows;Her pinions--azure, lilac, marigold--Wide on the dark deliciously unfoldAs any rainbow bright, as any glacier cold.
Her body, like the heart of a white rose,
Shines in the petals of her wings and glows;
Her pinions--azure, lilac, marigold--
Wide on the dark deliciously unfold
As any rainbow bright, as any glacier cold.
Lit with her own and inner gleam, she shinesLike a low meteor through the lians and vines,Flies upward high beyond the forest towers,Then swoops and hawks along night-hidden bowers,To hang on murmuring plumes and drink the livid flowers.
Lit with her own and inner gleam, she shines
Like a low meteor through the lians and vines,
Flies upward high beyond the forest towers,
Then swoops and hawks along night-hidden bowers,
To hang on murmuring plumes and drink the livid flowers.
Most fair, most foul, at Moira's stern decreeThe radiant monster wanders wretchedlyHaunting each strand and isle of that lone shoreWhere never human eye may see her more,Or sentient soul delight and tremble and adore.
Most fair, most foul, at Moira's stern decree
The radiant monster wanders wretchedly
Haunting each strand and isle of that lone shore
Where never human eye may see her more,
Or sentient soul delight and tremble and adore.
Yet deep in dreams I often faintly hear,Like a sad wind that strokes my sleeping ear,By fairy waters of that far lagoon,The moon-moth wailing, wailing to the moonThrough many a silver night at hour of plenilune.
Yet deep in dreams I often faintly hear,
Like a sad wind that strokes my sleeping ear,
By fairy waters of that far lagoon,
The moon-moth wailing, wailing to the moon
Through many a silver night at hour of plenilune.
THE HUNTING
When red sun fox steals down the sky,And darkness dims the heavens high,There leap again upon his tracksThe eager, starry, hunting packs.They glitter, glitter, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian bright as day;While in the gloaming, far below,Brown owl doth shout "Hi! Tally Ho!Sun fox hath gone away!"To music of the spheres they sweepOver the western world asleep;Then in the east, with sudden rush,Sun fox shall whisk his white-tipped brush.The field is fading, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian growing grey;While morning leaps the hither hillAnd herald lark shouts with a will,"Sun fox hath gone away!"Oh, Huntress fond and silly stars--White Venus, fiery, futile Mars,In vain your pack ye whirl and castUpon the marches of the vast;In vain ye glitter, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian's arrows flyIn silver shafts of broken light;For ne'er shall day be caught by night,And sun fox cannot die.
When red sun fox steals down the sky,And darkness dims the heavens high,There leap again upon his tracksThe eager, starry, hunting packs.They glitter, glitter, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian bright as day;While in the gloaming, far below,Brown owl doth shout "Hi! Tally Ho!Sun fox hath gone away!"
When red sun fox steals down the sky,
And darkness dims the heavens high,
There leap again upon his tracks
The eager, starry, hunting packs.
They glitter, glitter, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian bright as day;While in the gloaming, far below,Brown owl doth shout "Hi! Tally Ho!Sun fox hath gone away!"
They glitter, glitter, gold and green,
With sparks of frosty fire between,
And Dian bright as day;
While in the gloaming, far below,
Brown owl doth shout "Hi! Tally Ho!
Sun fox hath gone away!"
To music of the spheres they sweepOver the western world asleep;Then in the east, with sudden rush,Sun fox shall whisk his white-tipped brush.The field is fading, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian growing grey;While morning leaps the hither hillAnd herald lark shouts with a will,"Sun fox hath gone away!"
To music of the spheres they sweep
Over the western world asleep;
Then in the east, with sudden rush,
Sun fox shall whisk his white-tipped brush.The field is fading, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian growing grey;While morning leaps the hither hillAnd herald lark shouts with a will,"Sun fox hath gone away!"
Sun fox shall whisk his white-tipped brush.
The field is fading, gold and green,
With sparks of frosty fire between,
And Dian growing grey;
While morning leaps the hither hill
And herald lark shouts with a will,
"Sun fox hath gone away!"
Oh, Huntress fond and silly stars--White Venus, fiery, futile Mars,In vain your pack ye whirl and castUpon the marches of the vast;In vain ye glitter, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian's arrows flyIn silver shafts of broken light;For ne'er shall day be caught by night,And sun fox cannot die.
Oh, Huntress fond and silly stars--
White Venus, fiery, futile Mars,
In vain your pack ye whirl and cast
Upon the marches of the vast;
In vain ye glitter, gold and green,With sparks of frosty fire between,And Dian's arrows flyIn silver shafts of broken light;For ne'er shall day be caught by night,And sun fox cannot die.
In vain ye glitter, gold and green,
With sparks of frosty fire between,
And Dian's arrows fly
In silver shafts of broken light;
For ne'er shall day be caught by night,
And sun fox cannot die.
THE GOOD GIRL
When you were born, a shooting star did sunderThe nightly void, and flashed to earth and broughtEndowment of rare magic and sweet wonderAnd gifts beyond your mother's highest thought.Oh, blessed be your soul of cheerfulness,Your mind content and steadfast set, to holdSuch level journeying through storm and stressOf life's rough weather and hope's heat and cold.You come, a restful breath of evening windUpon the parched day, and cannot seeYour winning humour hearten many a mindWhere you bestow yourself unconsciously.Never the violet her own fragrance knew:Even such a flowery innocent are you.
When you were born, a shooting star did sunderThe nightly void, and flashed to earth and broughtEndowment of rare magic and sweet wonderAnd gifts beyond your mother's highest thought.
When you were born, a shooting star did sunder
The nightly void, and flashed to earth and brought
Endowment of rare magic and sweet wonder
And gifts beyond your mother's highest thought.
Oh, blessed be your soul of cheerfulness,Your mind content and steadfast set, to holdSuch level journeying through storm and stressOf life's rough weather and hope's heat and cold.
Oh, blessed be your soul of cheerfulness,
Your mind content and steadfast set, to hold
Such level journeying through storm and stress
Of life's rough weather and hope's heat and cold.
You come, a restful breath of evening windUpon the parched day, and cannot seeYour winning humour hearten many a mindWhere you bestow yourself unconsciously.
You come, a restful breath of evening wind
Upon the parched day, and cannot see
Your winning humour hearten many a mind
Where you bestow yourself unconsciously.
Never the violet her own fragrance knew:Even such a flowery innocent are you.
Never the violet her own fragrance knew:
Even such a flowery innocent are you.
THE LOVER
Under the silver thatch, where dwells my love,About her dormer window, in the straw,The sparrows build, and with their morning talkOften awaken her.And by the lattice climbs a crimson rose,Who, if he could but see my dinky dear,Before her loveliness, so wonderful,Would pale with jealousy.When the first glow of honeysuckle dawnCuddles her cottage in the dayspring light,I pass upon my woodland road to workAnd whistle as I come.And if she hear me and twinkle out of bedTo wave a kiss, then all my toil goes well;But if she heed me not, for weariness,How long the working day!
Under the silver thatch, where dwells my love,About her dormer window, in the straw,The sparrows build, and with their morning talkOften awaken her.
Under the silver thatch, where dwells my love,
About her dormer window, in the straw,
The sparrows build, and with their morning talk
Often awaken her.
And by the lattice climbs a crimson rose,Who, if he could but see my dinky dear,Before her loveliness, so wonderful,Would pale with jealousy.
And by the lattice climbs a crimson rose,
Who, if he could but see my dinky dear,
Before her loveliness, so wonderful,
Would pale with jealousy.
When the first glow of honeysuckle dawnCuddles her cottage in the dayspring light,I pass upon my woodland road to workAnd whistle as I come.
When the first glow of honeysuckle dawn
Cuddles her cottage in the dayspring light,
I pass upon my woodland road to work
And whistle as I come.
And if she hear me and twinkle out of bedTo wave a kiss, then all my toil goes well;But if she heed me not, for weariness,How long the working day!
And if she hear me and twinkle out of bed
To wave a kiss, then all my toil goes well;
But if she heed me not, for weariness,
How long the working day!
THE MOTOR CAR
Owlet sat, so quiet and good,At the edge of Yarner Wood,While a mother owl hard bySought his supper silently.Sudden came two hideous screams,Wakened owlet from his dreams;Down the road, on unseen wing,Swept a vast and awful thing.Twice he heard the monster shriek,Saw its head and shining beakTwixt huge eyes, that burned the night,Brighter than the moon was bright.Hooting horribly it fled--Where the water-meadows spread."He will catch," thought owlet now,"That red thing they call the cow."Came his parent presently:Heard him squeak with fearful glee,"Mother dear, I've seen and heardSuch a devil of a bird!"
Owlet sat, so quiet and good,At the edge of Yarner Wood,While a mother owl hard bySought his supper silently.
Owlet sat, so quiet and good,
At the edge of Yarner Wood,
While a mother owl hard by
Sought his supper silently.
Sudden came two hideous screams,Wakened owlet from his dreams;Down the road, on unseen wing,Swept a vast and awful thing.
Sudden came two hideous screams,
Wakened owlet from his dreams;
Down the road, on unseen wing,
Swept a vast and awful thing.
Twice he heard the monster shriek,Saw its head and shining beakTwixt huge eyes, that burned the night,Brighter than the moon was bright.
Twice he heard the monster shriek,
Saw its head and shining beak
Twixt huge eyes, that burned the night,
Brighter than the moon was bright.
Hooting horribly it fled--Where the water-meadows spread."He will catch," thought owlet now,"That red thing they call the cow."
Hooting horribly it fled--
Where the water-meadows spread.
"He will catch," thought owlet now,
"That red thing they call the cow."
Came his parent presently:Heard him squeak with fearful glee,"Mother dear, I've seen and heardSuch a devil of a bird!"
Came his parent presently:
Heard him squeak with fearful glee,
"Mother dear, I've seen and heard
Such a devil of a bird!"
THE SEA SCOUTS
While all alone I wanderedAt even by the sea,Where winds and water ponderedOf how they came to be;Where kittiwakes were cryingAnd salty spindrift flyingThrough daylight slowly dyingA Shape confronted me.She faced the broad Atlantic--That maid of stately mien,Purer than foam, giganticAs Amazonian Queen.Her billowy robe, unknowing,How wild the wind was blowing,Showed not a throb or flowing,Hung steady and serene.It was no fellow beingFor she stood ten feet high,And seaward gazed, unseeingThe human passer-by;But only billows roaming,And wide-winged sea-fowl homingThrough crepuscule and gloamingBeneath an ashen sky.The spectre rose before meMost woeful, wan and whiteUpon that foreshore stormyBetween the day and night;And such an apparitionIn this unique position,Despite her sad conditionAwoke my wild delight.Then came three youthful creatures,And them I bade with aweBehold the mournful featuresOf phantom on the shore.They laughed and said she'd driftedTo land with bosom rifted--A figure-head upliftedFrom wreck of "Margery Dawe."They dared, those sea-scout shaversWho watched this lonely coast,Assert in treble quaversWe stood before a post;They treated as a fictionMy gratified convictionThat, in her pale affliction,We'd met a salt-sea ghost!Thus hard-eyed youth advancesBy shadowless, stark wayOur middle-aged romancesTo slight and scorn and slay;Our make-believe to tatter;Our gallant dreams to scatter;To flout our faiths and shatterOur twilight in their day.
While all alone I wanderedAt even by the sea,Where winds and water ponderedOf how they came to be;Where kittiwakes were cryingAnd salty spindrift flyingThrough daylight slowly dyingA Shape confronted me.
While all alone I wandered
At even by the sea,
Where winds and water pondered
Of how they came to be;
Where kittiwakes were crying
And salty spindrift flying
Through daylight slowly dying
A Shape confronted me.
She faced the broad Atlantic--That maid of stately mien,Purer than foam, giganticAs Amazonian Queen.Her billowy robe, unknowing,How wild the wind was blowing,Showed not a throb or flowing,Hung steady and serene.
She faced the broad Atlantic--
That maid of stately mien,
Purer than foam, gigantic
As Amazonian Queen.
Her billowy robe, unknowing,
How wild the wind was blowing,
Showed not a throb or flowing,
Hung steady and serene.
It was no fellow beingFor she stood ten feet high,And seaward gazed, unseeingThe human passer-by;But only billows roaming,And wide-winged sea-fowl homingThrough crepuscule and gloamingBeneath an ashen sky.
It was no fellow being
For she stood ten feet high,
And seaward gazed, unseeing
The human passer-by;
But only billows roaming,
And wide-winged sea-fowl homing
Through crepuscule and gloaming
Beneath an ashen sky.
The spectre rose before meMost woeful, wan and whiteUpon that foreshore stormyBetween the day and night;And such an apparitionIn this unique position,Despite her sad conditionAwoke my wild delight.
The spectre rose before me
Most woeful, wan and white
Upon that foreshore stormy
Between the day and night;
And such an apparition
In this unique position,
Despite her sad condition
Awoke my wild delight.
Then came three youthful creatures,And them I bade with aweBehold the mournful featuresOf phantom on the shore.They laughed and said she'd driftedTo land with bosom rifted--A figure-head upliftedFrom wreck of "Margery Dawe."
Then came three youthful creatures,
And them I bade with awe
Behold the mournful features
Of phantom on the shore.
They laughed and said she'd drifted
To land with bosom rifted--
A figure-head uplifted
From wreck of "Margery Dawe."
They dared, those sea-scout shaversWho watched this lonely coast,Assert in treble quaversWe stood before a post;They treated as a fictionMy gratified convictionThat, in her pale affliction,We'd met a salt-sea ghost!
They dared, those sea-scout shavers
Who watched this lonely coast,
Assert in treble quavers
We stood before a post;
They treated as a fiction
My gratified conviction
That, in her pale affliction,
We'd met a salt-sea ghost!
Thus hard-eyed youth advancesBy shadowless, stark wayOur middle-aged romancesTo slight and scorn and slay;Our make-believe to tatter;Our gallant dreams to scatter;To flout our faiths and shatterOur twilight in their day.
Thus hard-eyed youth advances
By shadowless, stark way
Our middle-aged romances
To slight and scorn and slay;
Our make-believe to tatter;
Our gallant dreams to scatter;
To flout our faiths and shatter
Our twilight in their day.
SONG FOR THE SPHERES
A drop of fire from a flying sun--Sing, old stars, the World's begun.An ocean warm where electrons strive--Sing, old stars, the World's alive.Age upon age and link upon link--Shout, old stars, the World can think.War's red knife hisses home to the haft--Mourn, old stars, the World runs daft.Reason and Love shall conquer and reign--Sing, old stars, the World grows sane.Liberty, Liberty, Liberty!Shout, old stars, the World is free.
A drop of fire from a flying sun--Sing, old stars, the World's begun.
A drop of fire from a flying sun--
Sing, old stars, the World's begun.
An ocean warm where electrons strive--Sing, old stars, the World's alive.
An ocean warm where electrons strive--
Sing, old stars, the World's alive.
Age upon age and link upon link--Shout, old stars, the World can think.
Age upon age and link upon link--
Shout, old stars, the World can think.
War's red knife hisses home to the haft--Mourn, old stars, the World runs daft.
War's red knife hisses home to the haft--
Mourn, old stars, the World runs daft.
Reason and Love shall conquer and reign--Sing, old stars, the World grows sane.
Reason and Love shall conquer and reign--
Sing, old stars, the World grows sane.
Liberty, Liberty, Liberty!Shout, old stars, the World is free.
Liberty, Liberty, Liberty!
Shout, old stars, the World is free.
THE CIRCLE
When shepherd darkness folds the fading dayAnd faints the West beneath the world's wide brim,There stands a brotherhood, remote and dim,Of cowled and hooded wights rolled up in granite grey.Spirits of dusk from out a far-off primeBeyond the shadowy pale of bygone eld,Immutable and constant and unquelled,They hold their everlasting state and tryst with Time.These stones have seen the red-eyed wolf pack throngTo slay the fleeting elk upon the waste,And they have marked the cave bear's clumsy haste,Shuffling great golden furse and ragged rocks among.O cirque, what meanest thou? Sepulchral lore,Or ritual of the quick? Did thirsty godDrink blood of sacrifice upon this sod?Art thou a temple wrought for deities of yore?What dread, what joy, what Neolithic rule,What shouts of agony or pæans of praiseAwoke, ye stones, the morning of your days?They answer not, but seek the shadowy crepuscule.The Stone Man lifted them; his hairy handThey felt and knew, when Night's eternal browGleamed with another diadem than nowEre Egypt's mountain graves pressed on the desert sand.Bowed but enduring, Time hath failed to breakThat emblem of eternity they traceUpon the bosom of this desolate place;And holy shall it be for their most ancient sake.They have withdrawn upon the unseen lightOf immemorial time; the vanished pastReceives them once again to haunt her vast--A sanctity beyond wild Chaos and old Night.
When shepherd darkness folds the fading dayAnd faints the West beneath the world's wide brim,There stands a brotherhood, remote and dim,Of cowled and hooded wights rolled up in granite grey.
When shepherd darkness folds the fading day
And faints the West beneath the world's wide brim,
There stands a brotherhood, remote and dim,
Of cowled and hooded wights rolled up in granite grey.
Spirits of dusk from out a far-off primeBeyond the shadowy pale of bygone eld,Immutable and constant and unquelled,They hold their everlasting state and tryst with Time.
Spirits of dusk from out a far-off prime
Beyond the shadowy pale of bygone eld,
Immutable and constant and unquelled,
They hold their everlasting state and tryst with Time.
These stones have seen the red-eyed wolf pack throngTo slay the fleeting elk upon the waste,And they have marked the cave bear's clumsy haste,Shuffling great golden furse and ragged rocks among.
These stones have seen the red-eyed wolf pack throng
To slay the fleeting elk upon the waste,
And they have marked the cave bear's clumsy haste,
Shuffling great golden furse and ragged rocks among.
O cirque, what meanest thou? Sepulchral lore,Or ritual of the quick? Did thirsty godDrink blood of sacrifice upon this sod?Art thou a temple wrought for deities of yore?
O cirque, what meanest thou? Sepulchral lore,
Or ritual of the quick? Did thirsty god
Drink blood of sacrifice upon this sod?
Art thou a temple wrought for deities of yore?
What dread, what joy, what Neolithic rule,What shouts of agony or pæans of praiseAwoke, ye stones, the morning of your days?They answer not, but seek the shadowy crepuscule.
What dread, what joy, what Neolithic rule,
What shouts of agony or pæans of praise
Awoke, ye stones, the morning of your days?
They answer not, but seek the shadowy crepuscule.
The Stone Man lifted them; his hairy handThey felt and knew, when Night's eternal browGleamed with another diadem than nowEre Egypt's mountain graves pressed on the desert sand.
The Stone Man lifted them; his hairy hand
They felt and knew, when Night's eternal brow
Gleamed with another diadem than now
Ere Egypt's mountain graves pressed on the desert sand.
Bowed but enduring, Time hath failed to breakThat emblem of eternity they traceUpon the bosom of this desolate place;And holy shall it be for their most ancient sake.
Bowed but enduring, Time hath failed to break
That emblem of eternity they trace
Upon the bosom of this desolate place;
And holy shall it be for their most ancient sake.
They have withdrawn upon the unseen lightOf immemorial time; the vanished pastReceives them once again to haunt her vast--A sanctity beyond wild Chaos and old Night.
They have withdrawn upon the unseen light
Of immemorial time; the vanished past
Receives them once again to haunt her vast--
A sanctity beyond wild Chaos and old Night.
TO ANTHEA'S BOSOM
When that I went, a little lad, to school--One half a cherub and one half a fool--The weary pedant dinned upon my earsThat all the world is but two hemispheres.Maybe I doubted then, for I was bornTo laugh the wisdom of the wise to scorn;But now, indeed, most surely it appearsThat all the world is but two hemispheres.
When that I went, a little lad, to school--One half a cherub and one half a fool--The weary pedant dinned upon my earsThat all the world is but two hemispheres.
When that I went, a little lad, to school--
One half a cherub and one half a fool--
The weary pedant dinned upon my ears
That all the world is but two hemispheres.
Maybe I doubted then, for I was bornTo laugh the wisdom of the wise to scorn;But now, indeed, most surely it appearsThat all the world is but two hemispheres.
Maybe I doubted then, for I was born
To laugh the wisdom of the wise to scorn;
But now, indeed, most surely it appears
That all the world is but two hemispheres.
DUST
A cone of dust is dancing at the lane end,Caught from the surface of the thirsty trackwayAnd dropped again, into annihilation,By gusts from nowhere.Upon the wheel of little whirlwind moulded,It billows in a wreath of spiral beauty,But, swifter than the smoke of fire dislimning,Endures no longer.So I, intrinsical one slippery momentShare with my brief, grey brother at the lane endHis buffet into being, then, unfettered,A like dismissal.Dust of the cosmos, you alone eternalImmutable behind a myriad garments,Your stars grow ripe upon the boughs of heaven;But you bate nothing.All one to you the forms and the reforming,The fashion of the man, or mouse, or mountain:So order be declared and conquered chaosDethroned for ever.
A cone of dust is dancing at the lane end,Caught from the surface of the thirsty trackwayAnd dropped again, into annihilation,By gusts from nowhere.
A cone of dust is dancing at the lane end,
Caught from the surface of the thirsty trackway
And dropped again, into annihilation,
By gusts from nowhere.
Upon the wheel of little whirlwind moulded,It billows in a wreath of spiral beauty,But, swifter than the smoke of fire dislimning,Endures no longer.
Upon the wheel of little whirlwind moulded,
It billows in a wreath of spiral beauty,
But, swifter than the smoke of fire dislimning,
Endures no longer.
So I, intrinsical one slippery momentShare with my brief, grey brother at the lane endHis buffet into being, then, unfettered,A like dismissal.
So I, intrinsical one slippery moment
Share with my brief, grey brother at the lane end
His buffet into being, then, unfettered,
A like dismissal.
Dust of the cosmos, you alone eternalImmutable behind a myriad garments,Your stars grow ripe upon the boughs of heaven;But you bate nothing.
Dust of the cosmos, you alone eternal
Immutable behind a myriad garments,
Your stars grow ripe upon the boughs of heaven;
But you bate nothing.
All one to you the forms and the reforming,The fashion of the man, or mouse, or mountain:So order be declared and conquered chaosDethroned for ever.
All one to you the forms and the reforming,
The fashion of the man, or mouse, or mountain:
So order be declared and conquered chaos
Dethroned for ever.
YOUNG NIGHT
When flitter-mice with zigzag flightSpecked the green sky at twilight dim;When the wise bird from out the brimOf forest darkness to the lightFloated and perched upon a height,With mellow voice to welcome night;When day was stolen from the daleTo leave, where little river goes,One farewell, dusky gleam of rose;When down the purple of the valeA wingèd beetle boomed his taleAnd night-moth drank from night-flow'r pale;When grey churn-owl within a gladePurred through the gloaming, till the skyThrobbed with his goblin melody;When, by her stone, the glow-worm playedAnd with an emerald lamp betrayedThe new-born dew-drops on the blade;When young Night's self in starry dressCame timid to her throne again--Sweet anodyne for dead day's painAnd fire and wound and fevered stress--With heart to soothe and will to bless,Then how I loved her loveliness!
When flitter-mice with zigzag flightSpecked the green sky at twilight dim;When the wise bird from out the brimOf forest darkness to the lightFloated and perched upon a height,With mellow voice to welcome night;
When flitter-mice with zigzag flight
Specked the green sky at twilight dim;
When the wise bird from out the brim
Of forest darkness to the light
Floated and perched upon a height,
With mellow voice to welcome night;
When day was stolen from the daleTo leave, where little river goes,One farewell, dusky gleam of rose;When down the purple of the valeA wingèd beetle boomed his taleAnd night-moth drank from night-flow'r pale;
When day was stolen from the dale
To leave, where little river goes,
One farewell, dusky gleam of rose;
When down the purple of the vale
A wingèd beetle boomed his tale
And night-moth drank from night-flow'r pale;
When grey churn-owl within a gladePurred through the gloaming, till the skyThrobbed with his goblin melody;When, by her stone, the glow-worm playedAnd with an emerald lamp betrayedThe new-born dew-drops on the blade;
When grey churn-owl within a glade
Purred through the gloaming, till the sky
Throbbed with his goblin melody;
When, by her stone, the glow-worm played
And with an emerald lamp betrayed
The new-born dew-drops on the blade;
When young Night's self in starry dressCame timid to her throne again--Sweet anodyne for dead day's painAnd fire and wound and fevered stress--With heart to soothe and will to bless,Then how I loved her loveliness!
When young Night's self in starry dress
Came timid to her throne again--
Sweet anodyne for dead day's pain
And fire and wound and fevered stress--
With heart to soothe and will to bless,
Then how I loved her loveliness!
JILL BASSETT
Jill Bassett, she was dancing mad,And any ladWho'd win that most amazing maidMust needs be a light-footed blade.So said the folk; but I had pelf,And when the elfFound she might reign at Chadley Wood,Though I weren't young, she thought it good.She danced into my arms, and then,Along of menAnd some harsh words I'd got to say,One autumn time she danced away.She vanished, like a bow on rain,And, to be plain,I didn't feel no mighty wrenchNor much bewail the giglet wench.Then came a bit of funny newsFrom Billy Bewes:He'd seen the wretch at Christmas timeDancing in Plymouth pantomime!For five good year no more was heardOf the rash bird;Then danced she back; but not to I:Her mother took her in to die.Her breathing parts was nearly gone,Her dancing done.She wilted, like a davered rose;But I forgave her at the close.With Bassett folk they dug her pit;It wasn't fitThat she should lie where I shall go:Her mother granted that was so.Then, passing New Year's night, I sawUpon the hoarOf moony frost in churchyard groundThe woman dancing on her mound!I'll take my oath afore my GodShe swept the sodWith naked feet and showed her charmsAnd twirled about her twinkling arms.A brace of owls that saw her tooMade their hulloo,To which she danced so wondrous braveOver the silver on her grave.Mayhap the cold got in her bonesUnder the stones,And up the wilful ghostey cameTo warm herself at her old game.And I was on my hoss's back--I'd had my whack,But only just the usual three,And no man ever doubted me.
Jill Bassett, she was dancing mad,And any ladWho'd win that most amazing maidMust needs be a light-footed blade.
Jill Bassett, she was dancing mad,
And any lad
Who'd win that most amazing maid
Must needs be a light-footed blade.
So said the folk; but I had pelf,And when the elfFound she might reign at Chadley Wood,Though I weren't young, she thought it good.
So said the folk; but I had pelf,
And when the elf
Found she might reign at Chadley Wood,
Though I weren't young, she thought it good.
She danced into my arms, and then,Along of menAnd some harsh words I'd got to say,One autumn time she danced away.
She danced into my arms, and then,
Along of men
And some harsh words I'd got to say,
One autumn time she danced away.
She vanished, like a bow on rain,And, to be plain,I didn't feel no mighty wrenchNor much bewail the giglet wench.
She vanished, like a bow on rain,
And, to be plain,
I didn't feel no mighty wrench
Nor much bewail the giglet wench.
Then came a bit of funny newsFrom Billy Bewes:He'd seen the wretch at Christmas timeDancing in Plymouth pantomime!
Then came a bit of funny news
From Billy Bewes:
He'd seen the wretch at Christmas time
Dancing in Plymouth pantomime!
For five good year no more was heardOf the rash bird;Then danced she back; but not to I:Her mother took her in to die.
For five good year no more was heard
Of the rash bird;
Then danced she back; but not to I:
Her mother took her in to die.
Her breathing parts was nearly gone,Her dancing done.She wilted, like a davered rose;But I forgave her at the close.
Her breathing parts was nearly gone,
Her dancing done.
She wilted, like a davered rose;
But I forgave her at the close.
With Bassett folk they dug her pit;It wasn't fitThat she should lie where I shall go:Her mother granted that was so.
With Bassett folk they dug her pit;
It wasn't fit
That she should lie where I shall go:
Her mother granted that was so.
Then, passing New Year's night, I sawUpon the hoarOf moony frost in churchyard groundThe woman dancing on her mound!
Then, passing New Year's night, I saw
Upon the hoar
Of moony frost in churchyard ground
The woman dancing on her mound!
I'll take my oath afore my GodShe swept the sodWith naked feet and showed her charmsAnd twirled about her twinkling arms.
I'll take my oath afore my God
She swept the sod
With naked feet and showed her charms
And twirled about her twinkling arms.
A brace of owls that saw her tooMade their hulloo,To which she danced so wondrous braveOver the silver on her grave.
A brace of owls that saw her too
Made their hulloo,
To which she danced so wondrous brave
Over the silver on her grave.
Mayhap the cold got in her bonesUnder the stones,And up the wilful ghostey cameTo warm herself at her old game.
Mayhap the cold got in her bones
Under the stones,
And up the wilful ghostey came
To warm herself at her old game.
And I was on my hoss's back--I'd had my whack,But only just the usual three,And no man ever doubted me.
And I was on my hoss's back--
I'd had my whack,
But only just the usual three,
And no man ever doubted me.
TAILPIECE
At turn of night the wild geese flyAnd waken drowsy wonderBeneath their wingèd thunder;Then silence falls again,Until the homing barn-owls cryAnd ring with hollow laughter,From ivy-tod and rafter,The farm upon the plain.The lark's aloft, a bead of gold;While yet the earth lies darkling,His little body's sparkling:The sun has risen for him.A dotted track on dew-grey foldThe weary fox is leaving;I hear the plovers peeving;The morning star grows dim.
At turn of night the wild geese flyAnd waken drowsy wonderBeneath their wingèd thunder;Then silence falls again,Until the homing barn-owls cryAnd ring with hollow laughter,From ivy-tod and rafter,The farm upon the plain.
At turn of night the wild geese fly
And waken drowsy wonder
Beneath their wingèd thunder;
Then silence falls again,
Until the homing barn-owls cry
And ring with hollow laughter,
From ivy-tod and rafter,
The farm upon the plain.
The lark's aloft, a bead of gold;While yet the earth lies darkling,His little body's sparkling:The sun has risen for him.A dotted track on dew-grey foldThe weary fox is leaving;I hear the plovers peeving;The morning star grows dim.
The lark's aloft, a bead of gold;
While yet the earth lies darkling,
His little body's sparkling:
The sun has risen for him.
A dotted track on dew-grey fold
The weary fox is leaving;
I hear the plovers peeving;
The morning star grows dim.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKPIXIES' PLOT***