Willow Pollen 8

Willow Pollen 8

THATCH

 

 

Oh Boy, give me your yellow thatch for home,

Your yellow thatch of hair,

Straw with the wind and air!

 

Oh Boy, give me your stubble cheek to roam,

Brown hayfield in the dew,--

Rusty with sun and you!

 

 

 

 

SUN-PATH

 

 

I

 

How should I touch your years with mine,

Yours flushed with dawn, a flight

For all ecstacy of light, of rose, of flame,

Mine shadowed even now by night!

Yet, child, blown by the dawn-wind of your name,

Tossed by the sunlight in your eyes,

Sped by the glow upon your lips, you came,

Seeking my shadow and my rest.

 

 

II

 

Tell me what made you run to me?

Was it the long, unsheltered way from dawn to dusk,

The hot, unclouded, copper day of truth,

Was it some legend of men’s tears and strife,

Some tale of cowards prospering in the sun,

Some sin red-flung across the lilies that men love?

Or terror which the old forget, fears

Following as you fled, some shame

Of fact too awful for your youth to bear?

 

 

III

 

Back to your sun-path now you run

And on with wing of bird and flight of sun.

Your youth upon its golden way

Forgets it ever asked for rest,

Forgets my desolated day.

To me you left your tears,

Your fears a-tremble,

And hunger in mine eyes for you.

And I? I leave you free.

 

 

 

 

RAVELLO

 

_A Recollection of the Garden in which Wagner composed “Parzival”_

 

 

Words glimmering like candles in the dusk

You tell your golden tale of Italy,--

Ravello and its starlit, tranquil sea

Among massed trees sleep-hung with jewelled fruit;

Antiquity against a shadowed sky,

And everywhere old gardens where men loved

So long ago, and the moon rose on vows

And thirsty human lips aching to meet;

And the moon set on darkling ivory-petalled rows

Of lilies and on hands dim with loneliness:--

Below, Amalfi’s campanile plays

Its even-song, full chant and antiphon,

A wish, a hope, a call from star to star.

 

O, Compassionate One, night-long with you I hark

The travelling of that music lost in space,

The echoing of those faithful feet of men,

And touch the blurred chalcedony of tears,

And breathe those candle-lighted thoughts, faint musk

Of old days vanished in silence now!

Night-long I dream your face pressed close to mine

Is lily of Ravello in its sleep,

Touched with some ancient sorrow gardens keep,--

An ivory-petalled dream whose ghostly passions shine

Like fingers in the dark struggling with fears:--

O, set your love for me, my Own, my Sweet,

The whiteness of your breast and brow aglow

With God, like candleshine before my feet!

 

 

 

 

CHESTER-ON-THE DEE

 

 

Sleep, little town, your moonlit walls

Are hushed with long-ago!

Night, like your river, brings to you

Forgetfulness of woe.

 

Peace, little town! Grave sleep is this

That aches in love and tears,

With singing stream, with shining dream,

With sense of other years.

 

 

 

 

THE RIVER SEIONT

 

_At Carnarvon in North Wales_

 

 

Where the salt sea winds her sleeping path

Up the River Seiont in summer time,

And daisies flush the aftermath

Of stubble corn; and heavy cows

Wait by the water’s edge,

While cloud-capped Snowdon hills grow dim,

And fading Anglesey a crystal rim,--

Then

Your spirit comes,

A tidal sea,

Winding,

Up the River Seiont,

Past the purple hill;

Winding,

Past the Castle wall,

Winding;--

Then

Your spirit comes,

Winding,

Up the River Seiont

To me.

 

 

 

 

GOLD AND IVORY

 

 

They lie beside me all the night,

They crowd up close to me;

And when I turn, they turn;

And when I sigh, they cry.

Says one: “I am the love you sought

Now wrinkled to an afterthought.”

The other whispers in my ear:

“You coveted:

Behold, I lie here dead!”

These are the gifts sleep brings to me,--

My dreams of gold and ivory!

 

 

 

 

STEPS

 

 

I

 

There is a stair to climb

That--Christ you keep!--

Men stumble there

It is so steep.

 

 

II

 

Its steps give scarce foothold,

Yet, pilgrim-shod,

Hungry, athirst,

Men climb to God.

 

 

 

 

BESIDE THE WAY

 

 

I

 

O, little wind of every day,

O, little wind of hope,

Bring to me love