The Project Gutenberg eBook ofSelected Poems

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofSelected PoemsThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Selected PoemsCreator: Rupert BrookeRelease date: February 18, 2015 [eBook #48306]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***Selected Poemsby Rupert BrookeLondonSidgwick & Jackson, Ltd.3 Adam St., W.C.1922First Edition, March 1917Second Impression, April 1917Third Impression, May 1918Fourth Impression, February 1919Fifth Impression, January 1920Sixth Impression, January 1922All rights reservedContentsDay that I have LovedOn the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-GoddessSecond BestThe HillSonnet ("Oh! Death will find me")DustSongKindlinessThe VoiceMenelaus and HelenThe Jolly CompanyThoughts on the Shape of the Human BodyTown and CountryThe FishDining-room TeaThe Old Vicarage, GrantchesterThe Funeral of YouthBeauty and BeautyThe ChilternsLoveThe Busy HeartHe Wonders Whether to Praise or Blame HerHauntingsOne DaySonnet(Suggested by some of the Proceedingsof the Society for Psychical Research)CloudsMutabilityHeavenTiare TahitiRetrospectThe Great LoverThe Treasure1914:I. PeaceII. SafetyIII. The DeadIV. The DeadV. The SoldierDay that I have LovedTenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes,And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands.The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies.I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands,Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's makingMist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned.There you'll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of waking;And over the unmoving sea, without a sound,Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our sight,Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the far-gleamingAnd marble sand....Beyond the shifting cold twilight,Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming,There'll be no port, no dawn-lit islands! But the drearWaste darkening, and, at length, flame ultimate on the deep.Oh, the last fire—and you, unkissed, unfriended there!Oh, the lone way's red ending, and we not there to weep!(We found you pale and quiet, and strangely crowned with flowers,Lovely and secret as a child. You came with us,Came happily, hand in hand with the young dancing hours,High on the downs at dawn!) Void now and tenebrous,The grey sands curve before me....From the inland meadows,Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark and fillsThe hollow sea's dead face with little creeping shadows,And the white silence brims the hollow of the hills.Close in the nest is folded every weary wing,Hushed all the joyful voices, and we, who held you dear,Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering...Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here!On the Death of Smet-Smet, theHippopotamus-GoddessSONG OF A TRIBE OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS(The Priests within the Temple)She was wrinkled and huge and hideous?She was our Mother.She was lustful and lewd?—but a God; we had none other.In the day She was hidden and dumb, but at nightfall moaned in the shade;We shuddered and gave Her Her will in the darkness; we were afraid.(The People without)She sent us pain,And we bowed before Her;She smiled againAnd bade us adore Her.She solaced our woeAnd soothed our sighing;And what shall we doNow God is dying?(The Priests within)She was hungry and ate our children;—how should we stay Her?She took our young men and our maidens;—ours to obey Her.We were loathed and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was our pride.She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us; now She has died.(The People without)She was so strong;But Death is stronger.She ruled us long;But Time is longer.She solaced our woeAnd soothed our sighing;And what shall we doNow God is dying?Second BestHere in the dark, O heart;Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night,And Silence, and the warm strange smell of clover;Clear-visioned, though it break you; far apartFrom the dead best, the dear and old delight;Throw down your dreams of immortality,O faithful, O foolish lover!Here's peace for you, and surety; here the oneWisdom—the truth!—"All day the good glad sunShowers love and labour on you, wine and song;The greenwood laughs, the wind blows, all day longTill night." And night ends all things.Then shall beNo lamp relumed in heaven, no voices crying,Or changing lights, or dreams and forms that hover!(And, heart, for all your sighing,That gladness and those tears are over, over....)And has the truth brought no new hope at all,Heart, that you're weeping yet for Paradise?Do they still whisper, the old weary cries?"'Mid youth and song, feasting and carnival,Through laughter, through the roses, as of oldComes Death, on shadowy and relentless feet,Death, unappeasable by prayer or gold;Death is the end, the end!"Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greetDeath as a friend!Exile of immortality, strongly wise,Strain through the dark with undesirous eyesTo what may lie beyond it. Sets your star,O heart, for ever! Yet, behind the night,Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,Some white tremendous daybreak. And the light,Returning, shall give back the golden hours,Ocean a windless level, Earth a lawnSpacious and full of sunlit dancing-places,And laughter, and music, and, among the flowers,The gay child-hearts of men, and the child-facesO heart, in the great dawn!The HillBreathless, we flung us on the windy hill,Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.You said, "Through glory and ecstasy we pass;Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still,When we are old, are old...." "And when we dieAll's over that is ours; and life burns onThrough other lovers, other lips," said I,—"Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!""We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;"We shall go down with unreluctant treadRose-crowned into the darkness!" ... Proud we were,And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.—And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.SonnetOh! Death will find me, long before I tireOf watching you; and swing me suddenlyInto the shade and loneliness and mireOf the last land! There, waiting patiently,One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,See a slow light across the Stygian tide,And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,And tremble. AndIshall know that you have died,And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam—Most individual and bewildering ghost!—And turn, and toss your brown delightful head,Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.DustWhen the white flame in us is gone,And we that lost the world's delightStiffen in darkness, left aloneTo crumble in our separate night;When your swift hair is quiet in death,And through the lips corruption thrustHas stilled the labour of my breath—When we are dust, when we are dust!—Not dead, not undesirous yet,Still sentient, still unsatisfied,We'll ride the air, and shine, and flit,Around the places where we died,And dance as dust before the sun,And light of foot, and unconfined,Hurry from road to road, and runAbout the errands of the wind.And every mote, on earth or air,Will speed and gleam, down later days,And like a secret pilgrim fareBy eager and invisible ways,Nor ever rest, nor ever lie,Till, beyond thinking, out of view,One mote of all the dust that's IShall meet one atom that was you.Then in some garden hushed from wind,Warm in a sunset's afterglow,The lovers in the flowers will findA sweet and strange unquiet growUpon the peace; and, past desiring,So high a beauty in the air,And such a light, and such a quiring,And such a radiant ecstasy there,They'll know not if it's fire, or dew,Or out of earth, or in the height,Singing, or flame, or scent, or hue,Or two that pass, in light, to light,Out of the garden, higher, higher...But in that instant they shall learnThe shattering ecstasy of our fire,And the weak passionless hearts will burnAnd faint in that amazing glow,Until the darkness close above;And they will know—poor fools, they'll know!—One moment, what it is to love.Song"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings,And Triumph is his crown.Earth fades in flame before his wings,And Sun and Moon bow down."—But that, I knew, would never do;And Heaven is all too high.So whenever I meet a Queen, I said,I will not catch her eye."Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said,"The gift of Love is this;A crown of thorns about thy head,And vinegar to thy kiss!"—But Tragedy is not for me;And I'm content to be gay.So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady,I went another way.And so I never feared to seeYou wander down the street,Or come across the fields to meOn ordinary feet.For what they'd never told me of,And what I never knew,It was that all the time, my love,Love would be merely you.KindlinessWhen love has changed to kindliness—Oh, love, our hungry lips, that pressSo tight that Time's an old god's dreamNodding in heaven, and whisper stuffSeven million years were not enoughTo think on after, make it seemLess than the breath of children playing,A blasphemy scarce worth the saying,A sorry jest, "When love has grownTo kindliness—to kindliness!" ...And yet—the best that either's knownWill change, and wither, and be less,At last, than comfort, or its ownRemembrance. And when some caressTendered in habit (once a flameAll heaven sang out to) wakes the shameUnworded, in the steady eyesWe'll have,—thatday, what shall we do?Being so noble, kill the twoWho've reached their second-best? Being wise,Break cleanly off, and get away,Follow down other windier skiesNew lures, alone? Or shall we stay,Since this is all we've known, contentIn the lean twilight of such day,And not remember, not lament?That time when all is over, andHand never flinches, brushing hand;And blood lies quiet, for all you're near;And it's but spoken words we hear,Where trumpets sang; when the mere skiesAre stranger and nobler than your eyes;And flesh is flesh, was flame before;And infinite hungers leap no moreIn the chance swaying of your dress;And love has changed to kindliness.The VoiceSafe in the magic of my woodsI lay, and watched the dying light.Faint in the pale high solitudes,And washed with rain and veiled by night,Silver and blue and green were showing.And the dark woods grew darker still;And birds were hushed; and peace was growing;And quietness crept up the hill;And no wind was blowing ...And I knewThat this was the hour of knowing,And the night and the woods and youWere one together, and I should findSoon in the silence the hidden keyOf all that had hurt and puzzled me—Why you were you, and the night was kind,And the woods were part of the heart of me.And there I waited breathlessly,Alone; and slowly the holy three,The three that I loved, together grewOne, in the hour of knowing,Night, and the woods, and you——And suddenlyThere was an uproar in my woods,The noise of a fool in mock distress,Crashing and laughing and blindly going,Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress,And a Voice profaning the solitudes.The spell was broken, the key denied me.And at length your flat clear voice beside meMouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes.You came and quacked beside me in the wood.You said, "The view from here is very good!"You said, "It's nice to be alone a bit!"And, "How the days are drawing out!" you said.You said, "The sunset's pretty, isn't it?"* * * * *By God! I wish—I wish that you were dead!Menelaus and HelenIHot through Troy's ruin Menelaus brokeTo Priam's palace, sword in hand, to sateOn that adulterous whore a ten years' hateAnd a king's honour. Through red death, and smoke,And cries, and then by quieter ways he strode,Till the still innermost chamber fronted him.He swung his sword, and crashed into the dimLuxurious bower, flaming like a god.High sat white Helen, lonely and serene.He had not remembered that she was so fair,And that her neck curved down in such a way;And he felt tired. He flung the sword away,And kissed her feet, and knelt before her there,The perfect Knight before the perfect Queen.IISo far the poet. How should he beholdThat journey home, the long connubial years?He does not tell you how white Helen bearsChild on legitimate child, becomes a scold,Haggard with virtue. Menelaus boldWaxed garrulous, and sacked a hundred Troys'Twixt noon and supper. And her golden voiceGot shrill as he grew deafer. And both were old.Often he wonders why on earth he wentTroyward, or why poor Paris ever came.Oft she weeps, gummy-eyed and impotent;Her dry shanks twitch at Paris' mumbled name.So Menelaus nagged; and Helen cried;And Paris slept on by Scamander side.The Jolly CompanyThe stars, a jolly company,I envied, straying late and lonely;And cried upon their revelry:"O white companionship! You onlyIn love, in faith unbroken dwell,Friends radiant and inseparable!"Light-heart and glad they seemed to meAnd merry comrades (even soGod out of Heaven may laugh to seeThe happy crowds; and never knowThat in his lone obscure distressEach walketh in a wilderness).But I, remembering, pitied wellAnd loved them, who, with lonely light,In empty infinite spaces dwell,Disconsolate. For, all the night,I heard the thin gnat-voices cry,Star to faint star, across the sky.Thoughts on the Shape of the Human BodyHow can we find? how can we rest? how canWe, being gods, win joy, or peace, being man?We, the gaunt zanies of a witless Fate,Who love the unloving, and the lover hate,Forget the moment ere the moment slips,Kiss with blind lips that seek beyond the lips,Who want, and know not what we want, and cryWith crooked mouths for Heaven, and throw it by.Love's for completeness! No perfection grows'Twixt leg, and arm, elbow, and ear, and nose,And joint, and socket; but unsatisfiedSprawling desires, shapeless, perverse, denied.Finger with finger wreathes; we love, and gape,Fantastic shape to mazed fantastic shape,Straggling, irregular, perplexed, embossed,Grotesquely twined, extravagantly lostBy crescive paths and strange protuberant waysFrom sanity and from wholeness and from grace.How can love triumph, how can solace be,Where fever turns toward fever, knee toward knee?Could we but fill to harmony, and dwellSimple as our thought and as perfectible,Rise disentangled from humanityStrange whole and new into simplicity,Grow to a radiant round love, and bearUnfluctuant passion for some perfect sphere,Love moon to moon unquestioning, and beLike the star Lunisequa, steadfastlyFollowing the round clear orb of her delight,Patiently ever, through the eternal night!Town and CountryHere, where love's stuff is body, arm and sideAre stabbing-sweet 'gainst chair and lamp and wall.In every touch more intimate meanings hide;And flaming brains are the white heart of allHere, million pulses to one centre beat:Closed in by men's vast friendliness, alone,Two can be drunk with solitude, and meetOn the sheer point where sense with knowing's one.Here the green-purple clanging royal night,And the straight lines and silent walls of town,And roar, and glare, and dust, and myriad whiteUndying passers, pinnacle and crownIntensest heavens between close-lying facesBy the lamp's airless fierce ecstatic fire;And we've found love in little hidden places,Under great shades, between the mist and mire.Stay! though the woods are quiet, and you've heardNight creep along the hedges. Never goWhere tangled foliage shrouds the crying bird,And the remote winds sigh, and waters flow!Lest—as our words fall dumb on windless noons,Or hearts grow hushed and solitary, beneathUnheeding stars and unfamiliar moons,Or boughs bend over, close and quiet as death,—Unconscious and unpassionate and still,Cloud-like we lean and stare as bright leaves stare,And gradually along the stranger hillOur unwalled loves thin out on vacuous air,And suddenly there's no meaning in our kiss,And your lit upward face grows, where we lieLonelier and dreadfuller than sunlight is,And dumb and mad and eyeless like the sky.The FishIn a cool curving world he liesAnd ripples with dark ecstasies.The kind luxurious lapse and stealShapes all his universe to feelAnd know and be; the clinging streamCloses his memory, glooms his dream,Who lips the roots o' the shore, and glidesSuperb on unreturning tides.Those silent waters weave for himA fluctuant mutable world and dim,Where wavering masses bulge and gapeMysterious, and shape to shapeDies momently through whorl and hollow,And form and line and solid followSolid and line and form to dreamFantastic down the eternal stream;An obscure world, a shifting world,Bulbous, or pulled to thin, or curled,Or serpentine, or driving arrows,Or serene slidings, or March narrows.There slipping wave and shore are one,And weed and mud. No ray of sun,But glow to glow fades down the deep(As dream to unknown dream in sleep);Shaken translucency illumesThe hyaline of drifting glooms;The strange soft-handed depth subduesDrowned colour there, but black to hues,As death to living, decomposes—Red darkness of the heart of roses,Blue brilliant from dead starless skies,And gold that lies behind the eyes,The unknown unnameable sightless whiteThat is the essential flame of night,Lustreless purple, hooded green,The myriad hues that lie betweenDarkness and darkness!...And all's one,Gentle, embracing, quiet, dun,The world he rests in, world he knows,Perpetual curving. Only—growsAn eddy in that ordered falling,A knowledge from the gloom, a callingWeed in the wave, gleam in the mud—The dark fire leaps along his blood;Dateless and deathless, blind and still,The intricate impulse works its will;His woven world drops back; and he,Sans providence, sans memory,Unconscious and directly driven,Fades to some dank sufficient heaven.O world of lips, O world of laughter,Where hope is fleet and thought flies after,Of lights in the clear night, of criesThat drift along the wave and riseThin to the glittering stars above,You know the hands, the eyes of love!The strife of limbs, the sightless clinging,The infinite distance, and the singingBlown by the wind, a flame of sound,The gleam, the flowers, and vast aroundThe horizon, and the heights above—You know the sigh, the song of love!But there the night is close, and thereDarkness is cold and strange and bare;And the secret deeps are whisperless;And rhythm is all deliciousness;And joy is in the throbbing tide,Whose intricate fingers beat and glideIn felt bewildering harmoniesOf trembling touch; and music isThe exquisite knocking of the blood.Space is no more, under the mud;His bliss is older than the sun.Silent and straight the waters run.The lights, the cries, the willows dim,And the dark tide are one with him.

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Selected PoemsCreator: Rupert BrookeRelease date: February 18, 2015 [eBook #48306]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines

Title: Selected Poems

Creator: Rupert Brooke

Release date: February 18, 2015 [eBook #48306]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Al Haines

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***

Selected Poemsby Rupert BrookeLondonSidgwick & Jackson, Ltd.3 Adam St., W.C.1922

Selected Poems

by Rupert Brooke

LondonSidgwick & Jackson, Ltd.3 Adam St., W.C.1922

First Edition, March 1917Second Impression, April 1917Third Impression, May 1918Fourth Impression, February 1919Fifth Impression, January 1920Sixth Impression, January 1922All rights reserved

First Edition, March 1917Second Impression, April 1917Third Impression, May 1918Fourth Impression, February 1919Fifth Impression, January 1920Sixth Impression, January 1922

Contents

Day that I have LovedOn the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-GoddessSecond BestThe HillSonnet ("Oh! Death will find me")DustSongKindlinessThe VoiceMenelaus and HelenThe Jolly CompanyThoughts on the Shape of the Human BodyTown and CountryThe FishDining-room TeaThe Old Vicarage, GrantchesterThe Funeral of YouthBeauty and BeautyThe ChilternsLoveThe Busy HeartHe Wonders Whether to Praise or Blame HerHauntingsOne DaySonnet(Suggested by some of the Proceedingsof the Society for Psychical Research)CloudsMutabilityHeavenTiare TahitiRetrospectThe Great LoverThe Treasure1914:I. PeaceII. SafetyIII. The DeadIV. The DeadV. The Soldier

Day that I have Loved

Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes,And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands.The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies.I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands,Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's makingMist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned.There you'll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of waking;And over the unmoving sea, without a sound,Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our sight,Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the far-gleamingAnd marble sand....Beyond the shifting cold twilight,Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming,There'll be no port, no dawn-lit islands! But the drearWaste darkening, and, at length, flame ultimate on the deep.Oh, the last fire—and you, unkissed, unfriended there!Oh, the lone way's red ending, and we not there to weep!(We found you pale and quiet, and strangely crowned with flowers,Lovely and secret as a child. You came with us,Came happily, hand in hand with the young dancing hours,High on the downs at dawn!) Void now and tenebrous,The grey sands curve before me....From the inland meadows,Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark and fillsThe hollow sea's dead face with little creeping shadows,And the white silence brims the hollow of the hills.Close in the nest is folded every weary wing,Hushed all the joyful voices, and we, who held you dear,Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering...Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here!

Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes,

And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands.

The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies.

I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands,

Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's makingMist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned.There you'll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of waking;And over the unmoving sea, without a sound,

Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's making

Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned.

There you'll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of waking;

And over the unmoving sea, without a sound,

Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our sight,Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the far-gleamingAnd marble sand....Beyond the shifting cold twilight,Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming,

Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our sight,

Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the far-gleaming

And marble sand....

Beyond the shifting cold twilight,Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming,

Beyond the shifting cold twilight,

Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming,

There'll be no port, no dawn-lit islands! But the drearWaste darkening, and, at length, flame ultimate on the deep.Oh, the last fire—and you, unkissed, unfriended there!Oh, the lone way's red ending, and we not there to weep!

There'll be no port, no dawn-lit islands! But the drear

Waste darkening, and, at length, flame ultimate on the deep.

Oh, the last fire—and you, unkissed, unfriended there!

Oh, the lone way's red ending, and we not there to weep!

(We found you pale and quiet, and strangely crowned with flowers,Lovely and secret as a child. You came with us,Came happily, hand in hand with the young dancing hours,High on the downs at dawn!) Void now and tenebrous,

(We found you pale and quiet, and strangely crowned with flowers,

Lovely and secret as a child. You came with us,

Came happily, hand in hand with the young dancing hours,

High on the downs at dawn!) Void now and tenebrous,

The grey sands curve before me....From the inland meadows,Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark and fillsThe hollow sea's dead face with little creeping shadows,And the white silence brims the hollow of the hills.

The grey sands curve before me....

From the inland meadows,Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark and fills

From the inland meadows,

Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark and fills

The hollow sea's dead face with little creeping shadows,

And the white silence brims the hollow of the hills.

Close in the nest is folded every weary wing,Hushed all the joyful voices, and we, who held you dear,Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering...Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here!

Close in the nest is folded every weary wing,

Hushed all the joyful voices, and we, who held you dear,

Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering...

Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here!

On the Death of Smet-Smet, theHippopotamus-Goddess

SONG OF A TRIBE OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS

(The Priests within the Temple)

She was wrinkled and huge and hideous?She was our Mother.She was lustful and lewd?—but a God; we had none other.In the day She was hidden and dumb, but at nightfall moaned in the shade;We shuddered and gave Her Her will in the darkness; we were afraid.(The People without)She sent us pain,And we bowed before Her;She smiled againAnd bade us adore Her.She solaced our woeAnd soothed our sighing;And what shall we doNow God is dying?(The Priests within)She was hungry and ate our children;—how should we stay Her?She took our young men and our maidens;—ours to obey Her.We were loathed and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was our pride.She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us; now She has died.(The People without)She was so strong;But Death is stronger.She ruled us long;But Time is longer.She solaced our woeAnd soothed our sighing;And what shall we doNow God is dying?

She was wrinkled and huge and hideous?

She was our Mother.

She was lustful and lewd?—but a God; we had none other.

In the day She was hidden and dumb, but at nightfall moaned in the shade;

We shuddered and gave Her Her will in the darkness; we were afraid.

(The People without)

She sent us pain,And we bowed before Her;She smiled againAnd bade us adore Her.She solaced our woeAnd soothed our sighing;And what shall we doNow God is dying?

She sent us pain,

And we bowed before Her;

She smiled again

And bade us adore Her.

She solaced our woe

And soothed our sighing;

And what shall we do

Now God is dying?

(The Priests within)

She was hungry and ate our children;—how should we stay Her?She took our young men and our maidens;—ours to obey Her.We were loathed and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was our pride.She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us; now She has died.

She was hungry and ate our children;—how should we stay Her?

She took our young men and our maidens;—ours to obey Her.

We were loathed and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was our pride.

She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us; now She has died.

(The People without)

She was so strong;But Death is stronger.She ruled us long;But Time is longer.She solaced our woeAnd soothed our sighing;And what shall we doNow God is dying?

She was so strong;

But Death is stronger.

She ruled us long;

But Time is longer.

She solaced our woe

And soothed our sighing;

And what shall we do

Now God is dying?

Second Best

Here in the dark, O heart;Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night,And Silence, and the warm strange smell of clover;Clear-visioned, though it break you; far apartFrom the dead best, the dear and old delight;Throw down your dreams of immortality,O faithful, O foolish lover!Here's peace for you, and surety; here the oneWisdom—the truth!—"All day the good glad sunShowers love and labour on you, wine and song;The greenwood laughs, the wind blows, all day longTill night." And night ends all things.Then shall beNo lamp relumed in heaven, no voices crying,Or changing lights, or dreams and forms that hover!(And, heart, for all your sighing,That gladness and those tears are over, over....)And has the truth brought no new hope at all,Heart, that you're weeping yet for Paradise?Do they still whisper, the old weary cries?"'Mid youth and song, feasting and carnival,Through laughter, through the roses, as of oldComes Death, on shadowy and relentless feet,Death, unappeasable by prayer or gold;Death is the end, the end!"Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greetDeath as a friend!Exile of immortality, strongly wise,Strain through the dark with undesirous eyesTo what may lie beyond it. Sets your star,O heart, for ever! Yet, behind the night,Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,Some white tremendous daybreak. And the light,Returning, shall give back the golden hours,Ocean a windless level, Earth a lawnSpacious and full of sunlit dancing-places,And laughter, and music, and, among the flowers,The gay child-hearts of men, and the child-facesO heart, in the great dawn!

Here in the dark, O heart;

Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night,

And Silence, and the warm strange smell of clover;

Clear-visioned, though it break you; far apart

From the dead best, the dear and old delight;

Throw down your dreams of immortality,

O faithful, O foolish lover!

Here's peace for you, and surety; here the oneWisdom—the truth!—"All day the good glad sunShowers love and labour on you, wine and song;The greenwood laughs, the wind blows, all day longTill night." And night ends all things.Then shall beNo lamp relumed in heaven, no voices crying,Or changing lights, or dreams and forms that hover!(And, heart, for all your sighing,That gladness and those tears are over, over....)

Here's peace for you, and surety; here the one

Wisdom—the truth!—"All day the good glad sun

Showers love and labour on you, wine and song;

The greenwood laughs, the wind blows, all day long

Till night." And night ends all things.

Then shall be

No lamp relumed in heaven, no voices crying,

Or changing lights, or dreams and forms that hover!

(And, heart, for all your sighing,

That gladness and those tears are over, over....)

And has the truth brought no new hope at all,Heart, that you're weeping yet for Paradise?Do they still whisper, the old weary cries?"'Mid youth and song, feasting and carnival,Through laughter, through the roses, as of oldComes Death, on shadowy and relentless feet,Death, unappeasable by prayer or gold;Death is the end, the end!"Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greetDeath as a friend!Exile of immortality, strongly wise,Strain through the dark with undesirous eyesTo what may lie beyond it. Sets your star,O heart, for ever! Yet, behind the night,Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,Some white tremendous daybreak. And the light,Returning, shall give back the golden hours,Ocean a windless level, Earth a lawnSpacious and full of sunlit dancing-places,And laughter, and music, and, among the flowers,The gay child-hearts of men, and the child-facesO heart, in the great dawn!

And has the truth brought no new hope at all,

Heart, that you're weeping yet for Paradise?

Do they still whisper, the old weary cries?

"'Mid youth and song, feasting and carnival,

Through laughter, through the roses, as of old

Comes Death, on shadowy and relentless feet,

Death, unappeasable by prayer or gold;

Death is the end, the end!"

Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet

Death as a friend!

Exile of immortality, strongly wise,

Strain through the dark with undesirous eyes

To what may lie beyond it. Sets your star,

O heart, for ever! Yet, behind the night,

Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,

Some white tremendous daybreak. And the light,

Returning, shall give back the golden hours,

Ocean a windless level, Earth a lawn

Spacious and full of sunlit dancing-places,

And laughter, and music, and, among the flowers,

The gay child-hearts of men, and the child-faces

O heart, in the great dawn!

The Hill

Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.You said, "Through glory and ecstasy we pass;Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still,When we are old, are old...." "And when we dieAll's over that is ours; and life burns onThrough other lovers, other lips," said I,—"Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!""We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;"We shall go down with unreluctant treadRose-crowned into the darkness!" ... Proud we were,And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.—And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.

Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,

Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.You said, "Through glory and ecstasy we pass;

Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

You said, "Through glory and ecstasy we pass;

Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still,

When we are old, are old...." "And when we die

All's over that is ours; and life burns on

Through other lovers, other lips," said I,

—"Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!"

"We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;"We shall go down with unreluctant treadRose-crowned into the darkness!" ... Proud we were,And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.—And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.

"We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.

Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;"We shall go down with unreluctant tread

Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;

"We shall go down with unreluctant tread

Rose-crowned into the darkness!" ... Proud we were,

And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.

—And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.

Sonnet

Oh! Death will find me, long before I tireOf watching you; and swing me suddenlyInto the shade and loneliness and mireOf the last land! There, waiting patiently,One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,See a slow light across the Stygian tide,And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,And tremble. AndIshall know that you have died,And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam—Most individual and bewildering ghost!—And turn, and toss your brown delightful head,Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.

Oh! Death will find me, long before I tireOf watching you; and swing me suddenlyInto the shade and loneliness and mireOf the last land! There, waiting patiently,

Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire

Of watching you; and swing me suddenly

Into the shade and loneliness and mire

Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,

One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,See a slow light across the Stygian tide,And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,And tremble. AndIshall know that you have died,

One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,

See a slow light across the Stygian tide,

And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,

And tremble. AndIshall know that you have died,

And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam—Most individual and bewildering ghost!—

And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,

Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,

Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam—

Most individual and bewildering ghost!—

And turn, and toss your brown delightful head,Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.

And turn, and toss your brown delightful head,

Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.

Dust

When the white flame in us is gone,And we that lost the world's delightStiffen in darkness, left aloneTo crumble in our separate night;When your swift hair is quiet in death,And through the lips corruption thrustHas stilled the labour of my breath—When we are dust, when we are dust!—Not dead, not undesirous yet,Still sentient, still unsatisfied,We'll ride the air, and shine, and flit,Around the places where we died,And dance as dust before the sun,And light of foot, and unconfined,Hurry from road to road, and runAbout the errands of the wind.And every mote, on earth or air,Will speed and gleam, down later days,And like a secret pilgrim fareBy eager and invisible ways,Nor ever rest, nor ever lie,Till, beyond thinking, out of view,One mote of all the dust that's IShall meet one atom that was you.Then in some garden hushed from wind,Warm in a sunset's afterglow,The lovers in the flowers will findA sweet and strange unquiet growUpon the peace; and, past desiring,So high a beauty in the air,And such a light, and such a quiring,And such a radiant ecstasy there,They'll know not if it's fire, or dew,Or out of earth, or in the height,Singing, or flame, or scent, or hue,Or two that pass, in light, to light,Out of the garden, higher, higher...But in that instant they shall learnThe shattering ecstasy of our fire,And the weak passionless hearts will burnAnd faint in that amazing glow,Until the darkness close above;And they will know—poor fools, they'll know!—One moment, what it is to love.

When the white flame in us is gone,And we that lost the world's delightStiffen in darkness, left aloneTo crumble in our separate night;

When the white flame in us is gone,

And we that lost the world's delight

Stiffen in darkness, left alone

To crumble in our separate night;

When your swift hair is quiet in death,And through the lips corruption thrustHas stilled the labour of my breath—When we are dust, when we are dust!—

When your swift hair is quiet in death,

And through the lips corruption thrust

Has stilled the labour of my breath—

When we are dust, when we are dust!—

Not dead, not undesirous yet,Still sentient, still unsatisfied,We'll ride the air, and shine, and flit,Around the places where we died,

Not dead, not undesirous yet,

Still sentient, still unsatisfied,

We'll ride the air, and shine, and flit,

Around the places where we died,

And dance as dust before the sun,And light of foot, and unconfined,Hurry from road to road, and runAbout the errands of the wind.

And dance as dust before the sun,

And light of foot, and unconfined,

Hurry from road to road, and run

About the errands of the wind.

And every mote, on earth or air,Will speed and gleam, down later days,And like a secret pilgrim fareBy eager and invisible ways,

And every mote, on earth or air,

Will speed and gleam, down later days,

And like a secret pilgrim fare

By eager and invisible ways,

Nor ever rest, nor ever lie,Till, beyond thinking, out of view,One mote of all the dust that's IShall meet one atom that was you.

Nor ever rest, nor ever lie,

Till, beyond thinking, out of view,

One mote of all the dust that's I

Shall meet one atom that was you.

Then in some garden hushed from wind,Warm in a sunset's afterglow,The lovers in the flowers will findA sweet and strange unquiet grow

Then in some garden hushed from wind,

Warm in a sunset's afterglow,

The lovers in the flowers will find

A sweet and strange unquiet grow

Upon the peace; and, past desiring,So high a beauty in the air,And such a light, and such a quiring,And such a radiant ecstasy there,

Upon the peace; and, past desiring,

So high a beauty in the air,

And such a light, and such a quiring,

And such a radiant ecstasy there,

They'll know not if it's fire, or dew,Or out of earth, or in the height,Singing, or flame, or scent, or hue,Or two that pass, in light, to light,

They'll know not if it's fire, or dew,

Or out of earth, or in the height,

Singing, or flame, or scent, or hue,

Or two that pass, in light, to light,

Out of the garden, higher, higher...But in that instant they shall learnThe shattering ecstasy of our fire,And the weak passionless hearts will burn

Out of the garden, higher, higher...

But in that instant they shall learn

The shattering ecstasy of our fire,

And the weak passionless hearts will burn

And faint in that amazing glow,Until the darkness close above;And they will know—poor fools, they'll know!—One moment, what it is to love.

And faint in that amazing glow,

Until the darkness close above;

And they will know—poor fools, they'll know!—

One moment, what it is to love.

Song

"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings,And Triumph is his crown.Earth fades in flame before his wings,And Sun and Moon bow down."—But that, I knew, would never do;And Heaven is all too high.So whenever I meet a Queen, I said,I will not catch her eye."Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said,"The gift of Love is this;A crown of thorns about thy head,And vinegar to thy kiss!"—But Tragedy is not for me;And I'm content to be gay.So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady,I went another way.And so I never feared to seeYou wander down the street,Or come across the fields to meOn ordinary feet.For what they'd never told me of,And what I never knew,It was that all the time, my love,Love would be merely you.

"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings,

And Triumph is his crown.

Earth fades in flame before his wings,

And Sun and Moon bow down."—

But that, I knew, would never do;

And Heaven is all too high.

So whenever I meet a Queen, I said,

I will not catch her eye.

"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said,

"The gift of Love is this;A crown of thorns about thy head,And vinegar to thy kiss!"—But Tragedy is not for me;And I'm content to be gay.So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady,I went another way.

"The gift of Love is this;

A crown of thorns about thy head,

And vinegar to thy kiss!"—

But Tragedy is not for me;

And I'm content to be gay.

So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady,

I went another way.

And so I never feared to seeYou wander down the street,Or come across the fields to meOn ordinary feet.For what they'd never told me of,And what I never knew,It was that all the time, my love,Love would be merely you.

And so I never feared to see

You wander down the street,

Or come across the fields to me

On ordinary feet.

For what they'd never told me of,

And what I never knew,

It was that all the time, my love,

Love would be merely you.

Kindliness

When love has changed to kindliness—Oh, love, our hungry lips, that pressSo tight that Time's an old god's dreamNodding in heaven, and whisper stuffSeven million years were not enoughTo think on after, make it seemLess than the breath of children playing,A blasphemy scarce worth the saying,A sorry jest, "When love has grownTo kindliness—to kindliness!" ...And yet—the best that either's knownWill change, and wither, and be less,At last, than comfort, or its ownRemembrance. And when some caressTendered in habit (once a flameAll heaven sang out to) wakes the shameUnworded, in the steady eyesWe'll have,—thatday, what shall we do?Being so noble, kill the twoWho've reached their second-best? Being wise,Break cleanly off, and get away,Follow down other windier skiesNew lures, alone? Or shall we stay,Since this is all we've known, contentIn the lean twilight of such day,And not remember, not lament?That time when all is over, andHand never flinches, brushing hand;And blood lies quiet, for all you're near;And it's but spoken words we hear,Where trumpets sang; when the mere skiesAre stranger and nobler than your eyes;And flesh is flesh, was flame before;And infinite hungers leap no moreIn the chance swaying of your dress;And love has changed to kindliness.

When love has changed to kindliness—

Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press

So tight that Time's an old god's dream

Nodding in heaven, and whisper stuff

Seven million years were not enough

To think on after, make it seem

Less than the breath of children playing,

A blasphemy scarce worth the saying,

A sorry jest, "When love has grown

To kindliness—to kindliness!" ...

And yet—the best that either's known

Will change, and wither, and be less,

At last, than comfort, or its own

Remembrance. And when some caress

Tendered in habit (once a flame

All heaven sang out to) wakes the shame

Unworded, in the steady eyes

We'll have,—thatday, what shall we do?

Being so noble, kill the two

Who've reached their second-best? Being wise,

Break cleanly off, and get away,

Follow down other windier skies

New lures, alone? Or shall we stay,

Since this is all we've known, content

In the lean twilight of such day,

And not remember, not lament?

That time when all is over, and

Hand never flinches, brushing hand;

And blood lies quiet, for all you're near;

And it's but spoken words we hear,

Where trumpets sang; when the mere skies

Are stranger and nobler than your eyes;

And flesh is flesh, was flame before;

And infinite hungers leap no more

In the chance swaying of your dress;

And love has changed to kindliness.

The Voice

Safe in the magic of my woodsI lay, and watched the dying light.Faint in the pale high solitudes,And washed with rain and veiled by night,Silver and blue and green were showing.And the dark woods grew darker still;And birds were hushed; and peace was growing;And quietness crept up the hill;And no wind was blowing ...And I knewThat this was the hour of knowing,And the night and the woods and youWere one together, and I should findSoon in the silence the hidden keyOf all that had hurt and puzzled me—Why you were you, and the night was kind,And the woods were part of the heart of me.And there I waited breathlessly,Alone; and slowly the holy three,The three that I loved, together grewOne, in the hour of knowing,Night, and the woods, and you——And suddenlyThere was an uproar in my woods,The noise of a fool in mock distress,Crashing and laughing and blindly going,Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress,And a Voice profaning the solitudes.The spell was broken, the key denied me.And at length your flat clear voice beside meMouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes.You came and quacked beside me in the wood.You said, "The view from here is very good!"You said, "It's nice to be alone a bit!"And, "How the days are drawing out!" you said.You said, "The sunset's pretty, isn't it?"* * * * *By God! I wish—I wish that you were dead!

Safe in the magic of my woodsI lay, and watched the dying light.Faint in the pale high solitudes,And washed with rain and veiled by night,

Safe in the magic of my woods

I lay, and watched the dying light.

Faint in the pale high solitudes,

And washed with rain and veiled by night,

Silver and blue and green were showing.And the dark woods grew darker still;And birds were hushed; and peace was growing;And quietness crept up the hill;

Silver and blue and green were showing.

And the dark woods grew darker still;

And birds were hushed; and peace was growing;

And quietness crept up the hill;

And no wind was blowing ...

And I knewThat this was the hour of knowing,And the night and the woods and youWere one together, and I should findSoon in the silence the hidden keyOf all that had hurt and puzzled me—Why you were you, and the night was kind,And the woods were part of the heart of me.

And I knew

That this was the hour of knowing,

And the night and the woods and you

Were one together, and I should find

Soon in the silence the hidden key

Of all that had hurt and puzzled me—

Why you were you, and the night was kind,

And the woods were part of the heart of me.

And there I waited breathlessly,Alone; and slowly the holy three,The three that I loved, together grewOne, in the hour of knowing,Night, and the woods, and you——

And there I waited breathlessly,

Alone; and slowly the holy three,

The three that I loved, together grew

One, in the hour of knowing,

Night, and the woods, and you——

And suddenlyThere was an uproar in my woods,The noise of a fool in mock distress,Crashing and laughing and blindly going,Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress,And a Voice profaning the solitudes.

And suddenly

There was an uproar in my woods,

The noise of a fool in mock distress,

Crashing and laughing and blindly going,

Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress,

And a Voice profaning the solitudes.

The spell was broken, the key denied me.And at length your flat clear voice beside meMouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes.

The spell was broken, the key denied me.

And at length your flat clear voice beside me

Mouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes.

You came and quacked beside me in the wood.You said, "The view from here is very good!"You said, "It's nice to be alone a bit!"And, "How the days are drawing out!" you said.You said, "The sunset's pretty, isn't it?"

You came and quacked beside me in the wood.

You said, "The view from here is very good!"

You said, "It's nice to be alone a bit!"

And, "How the days are drawing out!" you said.

You said, "The sunset's pretty, isn't it?"

* * * * *

By God! I wish—I wish that you were dead!

Menelaus and Helen

Hot through Troy's ruin Menelaus brokeTo Priam's palace, sword in hand, to sateOn that adulterous whore a ten years' hateAnd a king's honour. Through red death, and smoke,And cries, and then by quieter ways he strode,Till the still innermost chamber fronted him.He swung his sword, and crashed into the dimLuxurious bower, flaming like a god.High sat white Helen, lonely and serene.He had not remembered that she was so fair,And that her neck curved down in such a way;And he felt tired. He flung the sword away,And kissed her feet, and knelt before her there,The perfect Knight before the perfect Queen.

Hot through Troy's ruin Menelaus broke

To Priam's palace, sword in hand, to sateOn that adulterous whore a ten years' hate

To Priam's palace, sword in hand, to sate

On that adulterous whore a ten years' hate

And a king's honour. Through red death, and smoke,

And cries, and then by quieter ways he strode,

Till the still innermost chamber fronted him.He swung his sword, and crashed into the dim

Till the still innermost chamber fronted him.

He swung his sword, and crashed into the dim

Luxurious bower, flaming like a god.

High sat white Helen, lonely and serene.He had not remembered that she was so fair,And that her neck curved down in such a way;And he felt tired. He flung the sword away,And kissed her feet, and knelt before her there,The perfect Knight before the perfect Queen.

High sat white Helen, lonely and serene.

He had not remembered that she was so fair,

And that her neck curved down in such a way;

And he felt tired. He flung the sword away,

And kissed her feet, and knelt before her there,

The perfect Knight before the perfect Queen.

So far the poet. How should he beholdThat journey home, the long connubial years?He does not tell you how white Helen bearsChild on legitimate child, becomes a scold,Haggard with virtue. Menelaus boldWaxed garrulous, and sacked a hundred Troys'Twixt noon and supper. And her golden voiceGot shrill as he grew deafer. And both were old.Often he wonders why on earth he wentTroyward, or why poor Paris ever came.Oft she weeps, gummy-eyed and impotent;Her dry shanks twitch at Paris' mumbled name.So Menelaus nagged; and Helen cried;And Paris slept on by Scamander side.

So far the poet. How should he behold

That journey home, the long connubial years?He does not tell you how white Helen bears

That journey home, the long connubial years?

He does not tell you how white Helen bears

Child on legitimate child, becomes a scold,

Haggard with virtue. Menelaus bold

Waxed garrulous, and sacked a hundred Troys'Twixt noon and supper. And her golden voice

Waxed garrulous, and sacked a hundred Troys

'Twixt noon and supper. And her golden voice

Got shrill as he grew deafer. And both were old.

Often he wonders why on earth he wentTroyward, or why poor Paris ever came.Oft she weeps, gummy-eyed and impotent;Her dry shanks twitch at Paris' mumbled name.So Menelaus nagged; and Helen cried;And Paris slept on by Scamander side.

Often he wonders why on earth he went

Troyward, or why poor Paris ever came.

Oft she weeps, gummy-eyed and impotent;

Her dry shanks twitch at Paris' mumbled name.

So Menelaus nagged; and Helen cried;

And Paris slept on by Scamander side.

The Jolly Company

The stars, a jolly company,I envied, straying late and lonely;And cried upon their revelry:"O white companionship! You onlyIn love, in faith unbroken dwell,Friends radiant and inseparable!"Light-heart and glad they seemed to meAnd merry comrades (even soGod out of Heaven may laugh to seeThe happy crowds; and never knowThat in his lone obscure distressEach walketh in a wilderness).But I, remembering, pitied wellAnd loved them, who, with lonely light,In empty infinite spaces dwell,Disconsolate. For, all the night,I heard the thin gnat-voices cry,Star to faint star, across the sky.

The stars, a jolly company,I envied, straying late and lonely;And cried upon their revelry:"O white companionship! You onlyIn love, in faith unbroken dwell,Friends radiant and inseparable!"

The stars, a jolly company,

I envied, straying late and lonely;

And cried upon their revelry:

"O white companionship! You only

In love, in faith unbroken dwell,

Friends radiant and inseparable!"

Light-heart and glad they seemed to meAnd merry comrades (even soGod out of Heaven may laugh to seeThe happy crowds; and never knowThat in his lone obscure distressEach walketh in a wilderness).

Light-heart and glad they seemed to me

And merry comrades (even so

God out of Heaven may laugh to see

The happy crowds; and never know

That in his lone obscure distress

Each walketh in a wilderness).

But I, remembering, pitied wellAnd loved them, who, with lonely light,In empty infinite spaces dwell,Disconsolate. For, all the night,I heard the thin gnat-voices cry,Star to faint star, across the sky.

But I, remembering, pitied well

And loved them, who, with lonely light,

In empty infinite spaces dwell,

Disconsolate. For, all the night,

I heard the thin gnat-voices cry,

Star to faint star, across the sky.

Thoughts on the Shape of the Human Body

How can we find? how can we rest? how canWe, being gods, win joy, or peace, being man?We, the gaunt zanies of a witless Fate,Who love the unloving, and the lover hate,Forget the moment ere the moment slips,Kiss with blind lips that seek beyond the lips,Who want, and know not what we want, and cryWith crooked mouths for Heaven, and throw it by.Love's for completeness! No perfection grows'Twixt leg, and arm, elbow, and ear, and nose,And joint, and socket; but unsatisfiedSprawling desires, shapeless, perverse, denied.Finger with finger wreathes; we love, and gape,Fantastic shape to mazed fantastic shape,Straggling, irregular, perplexed, embossed,Grotesquely twined, extravagantly lostBy crescive paths and strange protuberant waysFrom sanity and from wholeness and from grace.How can love triumph, how can solace be,Where fever turns toward fever, knee toward knee?Could we but fill to harmony, and dwellSimple as our thought and as perfectible,Rise disentangled from humanityStrange whole and new into simplicity,Grow to a radiant round love, and bearUnfluctuant passion for some perfect sphere,Love moon to moon unquestioning, and beLike the star Lunisequa, steadfastlyFollowing the round clear orb of her delight,Patiently ever, through the eternal night!

How can we find? how can we rest? how can

We, being gods, win joy, or peace, being man?

We, the gaunt zanies of a witless Fate,

Who love the unloving, and the lover hate,

Forget the moment ere the moment slips,

Kiss with blind lips that seek beyond the lips,

Who want, and know not what we want, and cry

With crooked mouths for Heaven, and throw it by.

Love's for completeness! No perfection grows

'Twixt leg, and arm, elbow, and ear, and nose,

And joint, and socket; but unsatisfied

Sprawling desires, shapeless, perverse, denied.

Finger with finger wreathes; we love, and gape,

Fantastic shape to mazed fantastic shape,

Straggling, irregular, perplexed, embossed,

Grotesquely twined, extravagantly lost

By crescive paths and strange protuberant ways

From sanity and from wholeness and from grace.

How can love triumph, how can solace be,

Where fever turns toward fever, knee toward knee?

Could we but fill to harmony, and dwell

Simple as our thought and as perfectible,

Rise disentangled from humanity

Strange whole and new into simplicity,

Grow to a radiant round love, and bear

Unfluctuant passion for some perfect sphere,

Love moon to moon unquestioning, and be

Like the star Lunisequa, steadfastly

Following the round clear orb of her delight,

Patiently ever, through the eternal night!

Town and Country

Here, where love's stuff is body, arm and sideAre stabbing-sweet 'gainst chair and lamp and wall.In every touch more intimate meanings hide;And flaming brains are the white heart of allHere, million pulses to one centre beat:Closed in by men's vast friendliness, alone,Two can be drunk with solitude, and meetOn the sheer point where sense with knowing's one.Here the green-purple clanging royal night,And the straight lines and silent walls of town,And roar, and glare, and dust, and myriad whiteUndying passers, pinnacle and crownIntensest heavens between close-lying facesBy the lamp's airless fierce ecstatic fire;And we've found love in little hidden places,Under great shades, between the mist and mire.Stay! though the woods are quiet, and you've heardNight creep along the hedges. Never goWhere tangled foliage shrouds the crying bird,And the remote winds sigh, and waters flow!Lest—as our words fall dumb on windless noons,Or hearts grow hushed and solitary, beneathUnheeding stars and unfamiliar moons,Or boughs bend over, close and quiet as death,—Unconscious and unpassionate and still,Cloud-like we lean and stare as bright leaves stare,And gradually along the stranger hillOur unwalled loves thin out on vacuous air,And suddenly there's no meaning in our kiss,And your lit upward face grows, where we lieLonelier and dreadfuller than sunlight is,And dumb and mad and eyeless like the sky.

Here, where love's stuff is body, arm and sideAre stabbing-sweet 'gainst chair and lamp and wall.In every touch more intimate meanings hide;And flaming brains are the white heart of all

Here, where love's stuff is body, arm and side

Are stabbing-sweet 'gainst chair and lamp and wall.

In every touch more intimate meanings hide;

And flaming brains are the white heart of all

Here, million pulses to one centre beat:Closed in by men's vast friendliness, alone,Two can be drunk with solitude, and meetOn the sheer point where sense with knowing's one.

Here, million pulses to one centre beat:

Closed in by men's vast friendliness, alone,

Two can be drunk with solitude, and meet

On the sheer point where sense with knowing's one.

Here the green-purple clanging royal night,And the straight lines and silent walls of town,And roar, and glare, and dust, and myriad whiteUndying passers, pinnacle and crown

Here the green-purple clanging royal night,

And the straight lines and silent walls of town,

And roar, and glare, and dust, and myriad white

Undying passers, pinnacle and crown

Intensest heavens between close-lying facesBy the lamp's airless fierce ecstatic fire;And we've found love in little hidden places,Under great shades, between the mist and mire.

Intensest heavens between close-lying faces

By the lamp's airless fierce ecstatic fire;

And we've found love in little hidden places,

Under great shades, between the mist and mire.

Stay! though the woods are quiet, and you've heardNight creep along the hedges. Never goWhere tangled foliage shrouds the crying bird,And the remote winds sigh, and waters flow!

Stay! though the woods are quiet, and you've heard

Night creep along the hedges. Never go

Where tangled foliage shrouds the crying bird,

And the remote winds sigh, and waters flow!

Lest—as our words fall dumb on windless noons,Or hearts grow hushed and solitary, beneathUnheeding stars and unfamiliar moons,Or boughs bend over, close and quiet as death,—

Lest—as our words fall dumb on windless noons,

Or hearts grow hushed and solitary, beneath

Unheeding stars and unfamiliar moons,

Or boughs bend over, close and quiet as death,—

Unconscious and unpassionate and still,Cloud-like we lean and stare as bright leaves stare,And gradually along the stranger hillOur unwalled loves thin out on vacuous air,

Unconscious and unpassionate and still,

Cloud-like we lean and stare as bright leaves stare,

And gradually along the stranger hill

Our unwalled loves thin out on vacuous air,

And suddenly there's no meaning in our kiss,And your lit upward face grows, where we lieLonelier and dreadfuller than sunlight is,And dumb and mad and eyeless like the sky.

And suddenly there's no meaning in our kiss,

And your lit upward face grows, where we lie

Lonelier and dreadfuller than sunlight is,

And dumb and mad and eyeless like the sky.

The Fish

In a cool curving world he liesAnd ripples with dark ecstasies.The kind luxurious lapse and stealShapes all his universe to feelAnd know and be; the clinging streamCloses his memory, glooms his dream,Who lips the roots o' the shore, and glidesSuperb on unreturning tides.Those silent waters weave for himA fluctuant mutable world and dim,Where wavering masses bulge and gapeMysterious, and shape to shapeDies momently through whorl and hollow,And form and line and solid followSolid and line and form to dreamFantastic down the eternal stream;An obscure world, a shifting world,Bulbous, or pulled to thin, or curled,Or serpentine, or driving arrows,Or serene slidings, or March narrows.There slipping wave and shore are one,And weed and mud. No ray of sun,But glow to glow fades down the deep(As dream to unknown dream in sleep);Shaken translucency illumesThe hyaline of drifting glooms;The strange soft-handed depth subduesDrowned colour there, but black to hues,As death to living, decomposes—Red darkness of the heart of roses,Blue brilliant from dead starless skies,And gold that lies behind the eyes,The unknown unnameable sightless whiteThat is the essential flame of night,Lustreless purple, hooded green,The myriad hues that lie betweenDarkness and darkness!...And all's one,Gentle, embracing, quiet, dun,The world he rests in, world he knows,Perpetual curving. Only—growsAn eddy in that ordered falling,A knowledge from the gloom, a callingWeed in the wave, gleam in the mud—The dark fire leaps along his blood;Dateless and deathless, blind and still,The intricate impulse works its will;His woven world drops back; and he,Sans providence, sans memory,Unconscious and directly driven,Fades to some dank sufficient heaven.O world of lips, O world of laughter,Where hope is fleet and thought flies after,Of lights in the clear night, of criesThat drift along the wave and riseThin to the glittering stars above,You know the hands, the eyes of love!The strife of limbs, the sightless clinging,The infinite distance, and the singingBlown by the wind, a flame of sound,The gleam, the flowers, and vast aroundThe horizon, and the heights above—You know the sigh, the song of love!But there the night is close, and thereDarkness is cold and strange and bare;And the secret deeps are whisperless;And rhythm is all deliciousness;And joy is in the throbbing tide,Whose intricate fingers beat and glideIn felt bewildering harmoniesOf trembling touch; and music isThe exquisite knocking of the blood.Space is no more, under the mud;His bliss is older than the sun.Silent and straight the waters run.The lights, the cries, the willows dim,And the dark tide are one with him.

In a cool curving world he lies

And ripples with dark ecstasies.

The kind luxurious lapse and steal

Shapes all his universe to feel

And know and be; the clinging stream

Closes his memory, glooms his dream,

Who lips the roots o' the shore, and glides

Superb on unreturning tides.

Those silent waters weave for him

A fluctuant mutable world and dim,

Where wavering masses bulge and gape

Mysterious, and shape to shape

Dies momently through whorl and hollow,

And form and line and solid follow

Solid and line and form to dream

Fantastic down the eternal stream;

An obscure world, a shifting world,

Bulbous, or pulled to thin, or curled,

Or serpentine, or driving arrows,

Or serene slidings, or March narrows.

There slipping wave and shore are one,

And weed and mud. No ray of sun,

But glow to glow fades down the deep

(As dream to unknown dream in sleep);

Shaken translucency illumes

The hyaline of drifting glooms;

The strange soft-handed depth subdues

Drowned colour there, but black to hues,

As death to living, decomposes—

Red darkness of the heart of roses,

Blue brilliant from dead starless skies,

And gold that lies behind the eyes,

The unknown unnameable sightless white

That is the essential flame of night,

Lustreless purple, hooded green,

The myriad hues that lie between

Darkness and darkness!...

And all's one,Gentle, embracing, quiet, dun,The world he rests in, world he knows,Perpetual curving. Only—growsAn eddy in that ordered falling,A knowledge from the gloom, a callingWeed in the wave, gleam in the mud—The dark fire leaps along his blood;Dateless and deathless, blind and still,The intricate impulse works its will;His woven world drops back; and he,Sans providence, sans memory,Unconscious and directly driven,Fades to some dank sufficient heaven.

And all's one,

Gentle, embracing, quiet, dun,

The world he rests in, world he knows,

Perpetual curving. Only—grows

An eddy in that ordered falling,

A knowledge from the gloom, a calling

Weed in the wave, gleam in the mud—

The dark fire leaps along his blood;

Dateless and deathless, blind and still,

The intricate impulse works its will;

His woven world drops back; and he,

Sans providence, sans memory,

Unconscious and directly driven,

Fades to some dank sufficient heaven.

O world of lips, O world of laughter,Where hope is fleet and thought flies after,Of lights in the clear night, of criesThat drift along the wave and riseThin to the glittering stars above,You know the hands, the eyes of love!The strife of limbs, the sightless clinging,The infinite distance, and the singingBlown by the wind, a flame of sound,The gleam, the flowers, and vast aroundThe horizon, and the heights above—You know the sigh, the song of love!

O world of lips, O world of laughter,

Where hope is fleet and thought flies after,

Of lights in the clear night, of cries

That drift along the wave and rise

Thin to the glittering stars above,

You know the hands, the eyes of love!

The strife of limbs, the sightless clinging,

The infinite distance, and the singing

Blown by the wind, a flame of sound,

The gleam, the flowers, and vast around

The horizon, and the heights above—

You know the sigh, the song of love!

But there the night is close, and thereDarkness is cold and strange and bare;And the secret deeps are whisperless;And rhythm is all deliciousness;And joy is in the throbbing tide,Whose intricate fingers beat and glideIn felt bewildering harmoniesOf trembling touch; and music isThe exquisite knocking of the blood.Space is no more, under the mud;His bliss is older than the sun.Silent and straight the waters run.The lights, the cries, the willows dim,And the dark tide are one with him.

But there the night is close, and there

Darkness is cold and strange and bare;

And the secret deeps are whisperless;

And rhythm is all deliciousness;

And joy is in the throbbing tide,

Whose intricate fingers beat and glide

In felt bewildering harmonies

Of trembling touch; and music is

The exquisite knocking of the blood.

Space is no more, under the mud;

His bliss is older than the sun.

Silent and straight the waters run.

The lights, the cries, the willows dim,

And the dark tide are one with him.

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