Walter Conrad Arensberg

uc-
POEMS
POEMS
BY
WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG
BOSTON AND
NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

re#$
1914
Cambrib0e
COPYRIGHT,
1914,
BY
WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published April 1914
350)
TO MY MOTHER
304233
COPYRIGHT,
1914,
BY WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published April iqi4
TO MY MOTHER
304233
CONTENTS
To ONE WHO READS
IN
MEMORY
A Vow
To
..........
OF F. C.
LITTLE M. A. ON HER BIRTHDAY
JARDIN DU LUXEMBOURG
AVENUE DE
OPERA
ON THE TRAIN
THE MOONS OF ALL TIME
.
FOUNTAIN AT FRASCATI
6
8
12
13
15
16
17
.18
SERENADE
19
AMONG THE FIELDS
NIGHT
To A SKYLARK
IN
THE CAMPAGNA
21
.
23
POPPY
25
ECLOGUE
27
EXPECTANCY
29
BALLADE TO MY LADY MOONLIGHT
....
30
UNTIL TO-MORROW
32
ROMANTICISM
33
A PRAYER
35
DREAM-TRYST
36
ABOVE THE SEA
37
NIGHT SONG
39
INTERIOR
40
THE RETURN
42
VENUS OF MELOS
43
AUTUMN WIND
.44
QUEST
45
CONFIDENCES
MY
LADY
47
TOMB
48
WEARINESS
...
FOR A PICTURE BY LEONARDO DA VINCI

SLUMBER SONG
CHRYSEIS
49
50
52
53
."
THE WILD ROSE
55
DURING Music
56
SEAWARD
.58
NOCTURNE
59
THE GRAVE
60
SONNETS
TIME
TIME
LOSSES
LOSSES II
61
62
ON A MACEDONIAN TOMB
THE END OF THE STORY
.63
.64
~~
AT PARTING
.65
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

"
Music TO HEAR
66
.
FOR A PICTURE OF A SAINT
To ONE WHOSE LOVE WAS SERVICE
.67
"
....
FACE
.
.71
ATALANTA
WHEN
69
70
THE PIETA OF MICHEL ANGELO
72
HOME
IN THE
68
OF LIFE
73
AM OLD
74
THE NIGHTINGALES
75
QUATRAINS
THE POET
THE MASTERPIECE
77
.78
YOUTH
TIME
IN
A GARDEN
.....
THE RHONE AT AVIGNON

.
FRANCISCAN
TRIBUTE
...
"
....
81
82
*
.
83
84
85
OUT OF DOORS
79
80
ON A CERTAIN IRREGULARITY
To A DESERTED LITTER OF PUPPIES
To A GOADED SHEEP
76
86
ABOUT AN ALLEGORY
TRISTAN AND ISEULT OF THE WHITE HANDS
...
87
88
TRANSLATIONS
SONNET. From Ronsard
95
.96
UPON A DEAD WOMAN. From De Mussel
97
MEDITATION. From Baudelaire
From Du
SONNET.
Bellay
COMPLAINT OF LORD PIERROT.

CONCEITS.
From
WHAT
From
Jules Laforgue
SEA WIND. From Mallarme
From Mallarme
SILK IN SCENTS.
AFTER THREE YEARS. From
MY
Jules Laforgue
MUSETTE. From Murger ....
NEVERMORE. From
Verlaine
Verlaine
FAMILIAR DREAM. From Verlaine
99
.
.102
.104
.105
.106
.109
.no
.in
LANGUOR. From Verlaine
112
OH HEAVY, HEAVY WAS MY MIND. From

CYDALISES.
From Gerard
Verlaine
MIGNON
SONG.
From
From Heine
.116
115
.
SONG.
Goethe
.
113
de Nerval
DELPHICA. From Gerard de Nerval

S
100
To ZANTE. From Ugo Foscolo

.
ON THE DEATH OF A BROTHER. From Ugo
.
...
.
Foscolo
117
119
.120
,
121
POEMS
POEMS
TO ONE WHO READS
WHAT
is it,
that with
all
thy tears
Thou weep st that loss of Guinevere

When she who lay with Lancelot
Lies
now
What
with Death and knows
is it
that for
it
s,
not
Helen won
from withered Ilion
Away
Thou weep
st
when
Have taken her
What
is it
thirty centuries
love and given peace
when on windy wings
Into thine eyes Francesca brings,
As
to her
Ark from Dante
book,
Dove-like, so faint, so far a look
What
is it ?
Ah,
it is
Yea,
this alone, for
The
poet
who
the thing,
which did sing
for Beatrice
In death could do no more than this
To make
The
spirits
From
thee
weep and
who
the old
so let live
are fugitive
life
eternally
while within the heart of thee.
IN
MEMORY OF
F. C. G,
EAGER and unaware
Of the
obscure descent,
Singing a song he went
Down
That
the long lonely stair
builds
upon the sands
Whence no man
The
lands.
songs he used to sing,
First heard
As some
them he alone
sad undertone
Of daylight
darkening,
As some unquiet
Of life
The
eyes divine
void of the sea-line
Broken by other
The
breath
that swept
among
fragile rushes sprung
In sudden waves of death.

[
Passionate
little
tunes,
That bore on changing streams
The
sailing
of his dreams,
Under
the suns and
Of all
his
Still in
moons
human moods,
your
silver flow
His visions come and go,
And
his brief passion broods.
So soon
He
went by,
sang, and ceased to sing,
The
He
his years
while his years were spring,
had no time to die
No time upon the quest

Of all the fervor furled
In the unopened world,
No
time, no time for rest.
He
sought the shapes of sense
As
seeks the worshipper
Mystically the myrrh
And
holy frankincense,
[
For forms
that
wing the
air
Toward
the diviner
things,
And
upon
lift
their
wings
voice of burning prayer.
Wherefore
a long
regret,
However he be
blest
In the far
of
fields
rest,
Will hunt and haunt him yet,
His mutilated day,
And
the malign caprice
That bade
his being cease
Midway upon
Ere
in
the way,
one wide control
Of mood and intellect

He well might reerect
His world a perfect whole,
Ere
in the crucible
Of passion
Pure for
The
he might fuse,
his spirit s use,
world that he loved well.

[
VOW
A
ALL
the night
till
day be born
Like a flower upon a thorn,

Like a moon upon a lake,
Like the eyes that you awake,

I will
watch
All the day
for
till
your sweet sake
night shall rise
Like a blindness on the
Like the
ice
upon
Like a death
Like Leander
I will
in
s
skies,
the brook,
some
sad book,
drowning look,
hide you in a hollow
Where
the years alone
may
follow
In the heart of such a land
That
At
the seas shall have to stand
the circle of
its
strand
me
In the inner heart of

I will
keep you utterly
Kinder than the love of brothers,

Kinder, crueller than a mother
In a love that brooks no others
There
shall
need no other face
For the flowering of that place,

shall need no other glass
D
There
For the sands of time
There
Be
it
shall
be but one Alas,
only that you stay
All the night and
Be
it
to pass,
all
the day,
only that you cling
Closer
till
For the
you
final
lift
wing
fluttering.
s,
!
TO LITTLE
M. A.
ON HER BIRTHDAY
BABY born
On
morn,
With
weeping
And
a sleeping
First
you
tested
Life, and rested.
So the
trial
Broke the
Where
Keep
vial
the years
their tears
And you learn

Where to turn
Life
On
is
best
a breast
Just the blossom
Of a
bosom,
Just the
Of
mouth
a drouth,
Just the I
Of a
cry,
Little baby,
Not
Or
May-be
Never
In Forever
way
Lights your
From
Not
to-day
a suture
Knits the future
To
a past
All unglassed
In the skies
Of your
eyes!
Thoughtless brow,
Is the
Is the
Your
Now,
Real
Ideal
Just to be
Momently
Or
have you
Something new
Still
to fashion
Out of
From
To
passion
mother
another
Bosom
laid,
Unafraid,
Will you give

Leave to live,
Ere you go
From
the throe
Out of
Back
breath
to death
JARDIN DU LUXEMBOURG
WINTER wind
Autumn
in
autumn blows
days are
grown
For Godivas of the rose
Or
the raiment of the
Rouged
Come
too chilly
lily.
and not so very well
the dahlias
now
to harden
All the soft and true pastel
Of the
once ungathered garden.
Even
the nursery maids have flown
From
the hurricane that drenches
Gods and goddesses
And
in stone
the God-forsaken benches.
Like cocottes along the grass,

Dauntlessly the dahlias hearken
For the steps
While
that never pass
the hours of daytime darken.
AVENUE DE L OPERA
WATCH her experimental bluff
Of letting drop her ermine muff
Chemically, because she waits
For masculine
precipitates
Incredulous and credulous
That she should
get the drop on us,
Apologetic for the ruse,
As though
she might be
thought to use
trick too easy to be fair,
Like magic or a mere Lord
But
To
really, now, she
full
of honey and too
flaunt at the
Too
full
Knows
of
frail
deflowering male,
faith in
what her sense
better than experience,
Yes, too cocksure, and
To
Prayer
flower upon the trodden

street,
Too
To
too sweet
is
dream of any
[
still
aftertaste
-3
too chaste
Of apples that are grown for food,

Of fruit God grew and saw was good.
She lacks,
I think, the brains to
Accomplice of her Destiny
And
if
11
she has the luck to find
fellow
She
be
who
is
not unkind,
have a laugh
...
so never
mind
ON THE TRAIN
O
O
GLAD
release into the sea-deep night
swift and sure extinction of the light
Of Paris waning to a starry dust

Of lamps that lubricate its life and lust,
Of lamps that look at what the walls exhume
Of the still starved cadavers of a tomb
That grudges even the grace unto its dead
To let them rot without the need of bread
The
light
is
out.
sad,
hopeless flight
Into the dim, illimitable night,

Into the shadowy hollow of the world
Fatally and impenetrably furled
In Paris and the Past, the flowers of days
Are now
The
To
all
trodden on those darkened ways,
flowers that once were scattered in the street
pave
it,
ah, for
what escaped
feet
THE MOONS OF ALL TIME

WHERE
are the
moons
Have bloomed along
the shoreland of the sky,
Stately as lilies, single,
Unhastening
Where
to
are the
That from
that in all olden night
still,
open and
and white,
to die
moons upon what
their garden while the
aimless flight,
wind
is
high
Another breaks and bubbles toward the height,

Blown loose among the stars that wander by ?
A FOUNTAIN AT FRASCATI
THE
drooping of the fountain to
silver
willow weeping
its
pool,
in the night,
Is like a wraith that haunts for lost delight
The
mirror that
it
once made beautiful.
hear the dropping
The
Wherein
The
moments
in the spray
stealthy hours desert the solitude,

is
waiting, waiting to be wooed,
wraith of hushed love that passed away.
SERENADE
BE
still,
be
still
The moon and the

And on the face is
That you
you have dreamed awhile.

stars are
not for you,
not the smile
are whispering to.
The
world
You
sleep too long, awake,
You
have been happy
And watch
is
waiting at your eyes.
awake
now
the bubbles break
be wise,
!
NIGHT
FROM
utter dark to utter
Dark on the wing,
The
stars are all a-flutter
With westering
What wakens out of

What farther peace,
heaven,
Arcturus and the seven

Pale Pleiades
And
slips the
moon
From
out the bay
What
in the
world
The moon away
her mooring
.
is
luring
Horizon past horizon,

Is there a quest
What
is
the road
it
West beyond west

C
>9
lies
on,
Hollow above
Of
star-far
What way
Home
the hollow
dome,
is
there to follow
AMONG THE
ERE
the day darken, dear,
Ere the day
Bow down
Out
FIELDS
die,
and hearken, dear,
of the sky.
Lonely
Under
wander, dear,
the sun.
Wilt thou be yonder, dear,
When
days are done?
Out of the
Up
grave of thee
through His portal,
What
did
God
save of thee
For the immortal
What
hath
More
to be blest
What
What
of the braid of thee,
He made
of thee,
of the breast
Oh, when I come to

With the old word,
Will
it
be
dumb
to thee
or be heard
Then,
Thou who
thee
did st evenly
Share in the old,
Will
it
be heavenly
Then
to withhold
Spirit
who
Love of
Be
bore to
me
woman,
as of yore to
Heavenly human
me
!
TO A SKYLARK
THOU
IN
THE CAMPAGNA
art so far,
Bird of the singing wings
Or
singing star,
That by thy
Of
song alone
thy sunny track
I trace
To
lightenings
the
And
Come
And
Unknown,
would
call
thee back
unto me,
build a nest
I will
Of memory,
And
give thee rest.
I will
Yea, though thou roam
Deathward with
My
heart
Where wings
[
all
the world,
home
will not be furled,
3
home my heart
Where memory shall
The
Of
deathless part
this
mad
But from
To
shrine
thee
my
who
Bird that let
of thine
flight
call
art so far,
st fall
Star after falling star
Of voice
Still
afire,
on the
flight
Thou mountest
Up
begun
higher,
to the endless
sun
A POPPY
FLAME
of the swooned heat
Of sun-blazed air,
Now burning in her
Of golden hair,
wheat
poppy with thy fruit

Of dream and doom,
Plucked for thy passionate mute
Appeal of bloom,
Has she
the
power to reckon
Toward what wild ways
She lifted thee to beckon
Above her
face
Or is it for the red

Of just a flower
She crowns upon her head
Seductive power?
Out of
Thy
And
her virgin trance
blood-red call
languid petulance
Are bacchanal!
ECLOGUE
WITHIN
the
woodland
Of languorous
secrecies
glades that meekly
lie
Released from the embracing trees,
Uncovered underneath the sky,
While
was
all
Faint as an echo
The
alone and heard,
when
it
dies,
melancholy cuckoo bird

calling for her
Keep
In dream
own
saw Neaera
Lying asleep among
replies,
there,
the grapes,
Her
face deep nested in her hair
And
all
With
the while a satyr gapes
eyes that are too timid sad
And open lips that meditate

The pastures of her breast unclad,
He
hears his heart
until, too late
She has drained out her summer
sleep,
Her sunshine languor melts away,
And
He
ere her eyes
But oftener
I
wander
And
in a
in other
alone,
chosen solitude
I
make my moan
dreams that never come to flower,
And
of those flowers that are forlorn,
Like morning-glories,
That
Oh
takes
then
The
I
mood
wood
to the
Unto myself
Of
dream-heavy peep,
loses all his heart to stay
am
away
when
in the
hour
the hour of morn.
have wept apart
flowers of dream so nearly dead,
enlightened in
my
heart
And
delicately comforted,
And
see that the
unhuman
tryst
There with the
living solitude
Is sweeter than
Neaera kissed
Within the
secret of the
wood.
EXPECTANCY
drudge, and then the years to wait
DREAM,
My
heart
listening at its gate
is
Forever for the
And
u
Is
Or
off,
"
passed
my
or
is
ask
shall
Until
it
my
Along
lo
cannot hearj
heart reads in the

it
Laws
heart in secret says
there are
no
"
ways
different days
without a trumpet
dead march of Fate
Is
still
and long
is
"
blast,
The mute
coming
was,
be without a pause
the drifting level
Of Time
For
Fate near,
I
In the beginning as
So
"
of Fate.
while the seasons cloud and clear,
Fate far
Until
"
feet
at last
passed.
TO MY LADY MOONLIGHT
A BALLADE
I
KNOW
Moon
not
of
my
how
st to rise,
me
nights, and waken
From slumber
No
thou cam
was death
that
power on earth could
set
disguise
me
free.
Ah, but the power was heavenly,
The power of love in thee enshrined

Or if it is a lunacy,
Beloved, do not call me blind
!
There was no word of dim moonrise,
No
early flush of birth to be
Along the
On
The
east.
closed
my
eyes
skies as dark as the dark sea.
darkness was a mystery
Wherethrough there was no way

Till with thy light thou
Beloved, do not
call
me
mad
blind
st
!
to wind,
me
see.
Moon of my nights, on sapphire skies

No morning star gives light like thee,
Nor comes
Out
So
to birth in blossom-wise
of the east on mere or lea
like a lily perfectly.
The
stars before thee
When
thou art shining, fade and
Beloved, do not
Listen,
Because
Thy
and behind,
my
I
call
me
blind
Moonlight, to
flee.
my
plea
have not half defined
beauties in these stanzas three,
Beloved, do not
call
me
blind
UNTIL TO-MORROW
UNTIL to-morrow
To-morrow
I
or
some other day,
morrow
far
and
far
away,
wander with bewildered heart and
Lost on the
hills
feet,
of separation, sweet.
Beyond the hills of separation, sweet,

Your arms will hold me when at last we meet
And
you whisper, then, that I may stay

Until to-morrow or some other day ?
will
ROMANTICISM
I
WATCHED
Which
How
is
the
window of
the world,
myself inevitably,
through the window was unfurled
The
midnight that had darkened me.
And
as the bursting buds
And
odorous flames of flowers are born,
emerge
followed on the fainting verge
The
slow emergency of morn.
Wherefore, because
The warmth
all
of flowers, the flower of flame,
The momentariness
Weaving
The
That
curious things,
of wings
together the
breath of
toll like
lilies
ways they came,
on
censers
still
full
air
of myrrh,
The weaving of a woman s hair,

Which breathes the frankincense
[
33
of her,
Because
Me
all
only through the sense of me,
make
I strove to
curious things impress
for loveliness
sensitive transparency
Till
all
the labor on the glass
Brought a
And
reflection dimly
known,
mingled with the shapes that pass
I see the
eyes that are mine
own
Till ever in the carelessness
Of the
untroubled world
I see
The image of mine own distress,

The mute mirage of sympathy,
As though
the living wine of pain
Should
again
And
stir
with a
its
stagnant lees,
human sorrow
The Hermes
of Praxiteles.
34
stain
A PRAYER
POUR down
As
I
the darkness of your hair
a veil falls over the evening skies.
hear the voice of an old despair
Calling, calling out of the past,
And
there
an echo that
replies.
Pour down the darkness of your hair
And make
a mist about
For what
is
my
eyes
there to say at last
35
DREAM-TRYST
COME
For
is
keep
Come
me
not in dream,
fear of the
What
To
to
to
awaking
the good to seem,
my
heart from breaking
me
not to-night,
dream without a morrow
You come and you
When
Come
Then
You
You
is
me
not at
take flight
you have borne
to
all
my
sorrow.
the world a hollow.
do not come
you
do not come
I follow
call.
!
ABOVE THE SEA

THE
And
hill is
here in the control
Of vision
The
high in heaven,
shall
be given
seas that shall unroll
Till seas on skies are driven,
Till through the seas asunder

Is the
abysm cracked
And
there the days go under,
And
there the cataract
Of Ocean
And
throws
to the sea,
dying day delivers
Its ghost,
The
thunder.
while the westward rivers
Are winding
The
its
which seems
dusk that
cries
37
to be
and quivers.
Now is the saddest hour

Of hours that still are sweet.
Oh for my heart the power,
The ways oh
To
find
for
its fatal
my
feet,
flower
Though love grow even fonder

Than love that lures and clings,
Oh
that I
Home
still
may wander
to the tears of things,
And know
the trouble yonder
38
NIGHT SONG
AH,
love,
That
Like one
And
so dark in
who wanders
and he
love, will
me
I feel alone,
along the sea
moan
the moonless sea
fears
Ah,
is all
and
hears the surges
When
He
it
I fear
is
a mystery
feels alone.
you look
dark of
in the
As though you understood
The
sea and the alien shore of the sea
And
the dark unentered
Your
Make
wood
eyes in a moonless mystery
heavenly neighborhood
39
me
INTERIOR
OH to enclose thee,
A lily in the room,
Wherein
sweet,
a chosen o
gloom
Shuts out in dim defeat
The
gold and crimson blent
In the ecstatic
songs
Shrilled
by the sunny throngs
Of flowers
The
too violent
fervent flute of
June
Deliriously blows
The
crimson of the rose
And
the high note of noon.
The windows
That
lets
the
More mutely
Upon
have a
summer
veil
fall
musical
the cold and pale

[
Hush of
the mastered keys
Whereo
er thy fingers furl,
instrumental
girl
For human melodies
THE RETURN
I
LAY me under
And
quiet skies to sleep
cease remembering the days that keep
awake with murmuring their old

Murmuring like a wind against the sails
My
heart
That seek
the sea and are blown always home.
Haply,
I said,
At
and
last
tales,
all
these memories
go sailing
down
may roam
the sea,
If for an hour of sleep I cease to be.
But there were voices
in the
open sky
Singing so far away they seemed to die,
The
voice of distance and a singing cloud
Too
And
far
still
above the tree-tops to be loud

they sang and kept
Because of
So
it
my
heart
awake
their untroubled beauty s sake.
grew sweet to listen to old
And view around
The dreams
that
stories,
the sterile promontories
were too weak
to cross the sea
Drift back to their old haven helplessly.

[
4*
VENUS OF MELOS
was weary, and I have rest in thee,
For over the fawns of thine unhidden breast
Lo,
And solemn
urgency of their long gaze,
The
veil
Has
fallen like a silence

blessedly,
and
And hushed
far seclusion
their
of thy face
hunger and eternal quest.
43
AUTUMN WIND
THE
birds drift over the
Like
frail
And
and
the unmttigating winds have
Out of
their chant a shivering
The winds
And
autumnal sky
fallen leaves across a
lawn,
drawn
shaken cry.
have wrecked the gleaming
they have
made
sails
of day
a sorrow of the air
Wild winds,
that are as streaming as the hair
Of
wait the drowned by the bay.
girls that
44
QUEST
WHAT
was
it
that I shall not seek again,
Vainly, in your pure eyes sought not in vain
What was
it, all
I feverishly
hoped
And
what,
You
left
And
at the last
when
summer
the unsure
to find in
in a
you
through,
new, pathetic wise,
ajar the gateway of your eyes,
endured that
should look
Into your eyes and read as in a book,
Unveiling
The
in a
tremulous distress
candor of your
What was
Merely
it
in
spirit s
nakedness,
your eyes that
woman
need of a
45
let
man
me
s
read
need
Why
No
Ah
did your
more the
desiring
make you seem
strange, strange
what old
And show
own
that
woman
of
my dream ?
disillusion turned to strike
you were human-sisterlike
CONFIDENCES
LISTENING woman, conjuring,
Out of the shadows of my heart,
Out of
the shelter of the
Of shame
itself that
The words
That
that are as
is
When
held
this wistfulness that
you have heard and
Because
my
gleams
have
said
looked upon your smile,

heart out in a word.
Your
smile grew sad a
Alas,
And
wounds, the dreams
are so quiet, being dead,
What
wing
broods apart,
little
while
dreamed that you had heard
when you have listened so,

And know the shrine that you may be,
you,
Where
praying
You weep,
men may come and
and almost
[
47
feel for
me.
go,
MY LADY S TOMB
MY
lady in the darkened house
Where
all
the dead go
home
to
drowse
Awoke, and could not understand
The
My
flowers that faded in her hand.
lady in the lonely bed
Where
Knew
The
she had never thought to
look of sleep, she wept and wept.
Above her
With
And
eyes, a fountain sealed,
lips all thirsty
Death hath kneeled,
he hath drunk from the dim pool
That made her sorrows
And
wed
Death, and while her eyelids kept
beautiful.
waning garden close

Where many a lily and one red rose
in the
Were
Death
all
the
life
that she
would reap,
like a lover falls asleep.
WEARINESS
AM weary already of the years that are yet to
The sad and stale prepared procession of years
I
That
The
flag
with desperate hopes and a fever of fears
straight descent
I fear the
be,
and the single certainty.
invasion of days that, one by one,
Stealthily over the wall of the leaguered night,
Invade the city of sleep with a lance of
And
a flood of flame
light
and the torch of a surging sun,
And when
the flame and the flood pass over me,
I shall feel
too tired for the waking after death.
had rather sleep than draw the long, long breath
Of the
tired
insomnia of eternity.
49
FOR A PICTURE BY LEONARDO DA VINCI

MARY
the virgin mother
Still like a
Of Anne
child
see
upon the knee
as virginal as she,
The mother
like a sister
To
of herself alone
her
who
Covered a god with
They dream
The
Is
is
grown
flesh
Veiled in a smile that
That
is
and bone.
not mirth,
of the vain virgin birth
a miracle on earth.
smile of their secretive eyes
with a subtle shame grown wise,
The
holy shame of Mysteries.
And on
their
maiden mouths
Hides them as Eve hid,
Of women who
[
their smile
in the guile
have loved awhile.

5
Though
The
And
grace of
God
though they tend with wistful care
The Son
of
God
and
are as slaves
They
From where
As
has lighted there
hidden haloes of their hair,
still
their
own,
whose dreams have flown
they wait about the throne,
vestal slaves
who dream
again,
In lands where they are alien,
Of olden home
and hearts of men.
SLUMBER SONG
WE
are alone and guarded deep
Among the silences of sleep,

And morning muses still so far,
It
has not
dimmed
the
morning
Sleep and be happy, do not
We
star.
moan
are alone.
Sleep and be happy, do not break
The
Oh
twilight with your eyes

sleep,
oh
awake
sleep, the dreadful
day
Is still so many hours away;

And when you are awake you seem
To
lose a dream.
CHRYSEIS
WHEN
Thee,
came the
priest thy father to recapture
thou sad and glad Chryseis,
won
And worn by Agamemnon and undone,

What of thy rape and thine unwilling rapture
Didst thou remember, pure and simple daughter,
Seeing thy father with a golden treasure
And
sail
without thee
Wert thou
Oh
from the deadly pleasure
to free thee
Still fail
home
across the water
so lonely then that thou didst crave
any touch to make thee
Till,
when
Almost
less alone,
the Grecian hand unclasped thy zone,
did st thou forget to be a slave
And when
thy father
Ransomed
thee at the last as
And Agamemnon
Among
thy tresses,
god with myriad slaughter

if
with gold,
fingers loosed their hold
O
[
thou ravished daughter,

53
And when
the Grecians sailed thee
home
again,
Threading the islands toward thy native cape,

No more a simple maid what of thy rape
!
And
thine unwilling helpless rapture then
Didst thou remember, leaning on the mast
That
dipt into the
winds
like a
god
oar
Didst thou gaze backward toward the Trojan shore,
Willing a
little at
the very last
54
THE WILD ROSE

DEEP
in the
meadow where
the roses hive
Their joy of June I went to be made

They were not human but they were
glad.
alive,
And
they were
The
joyous roses in the
And
of themselves they give abundantly.
all
the living that I had.
plucked a rose, but
breathed
tore the
Alas,
Still
And
it,
all
made my
have
would not be mine,
but I could not
garment of
when
it
meadow twine
my
make
it
me.
rose apart.
the petals had been shed,

rose a secret of
left
it
its
heart,
on the meadow dead.
55
DURING MUSIC
SLOW with
Awake
Her
old pain
again,
eyelids cling
In opening
Without
surprise
Pain-patient eyes.
Her memory
How
like the sea,
Whereunder, low,
The
afterglow
Of day
and night
Sinks out of sight
Ah, she knows not

Her own dim thought,
Nor
of her passion
Its first fierce fashion,
Nor
of the past
Knows now at last

The dawn above
The
flight
[
of love.
56
All things that were
Are dim
The
to her,
dead days
With vacant
rise
eyes,
So swift, so aching
The woe awaking

Wakens to swoon
At
this old tune.
57
SEAWARD
I
KNOW
there
is
another strand
Down
where the sky is low as land,

Out of whose dimness cometh soon
The
lowly rising of the moon.
And
her impassive bar of light
Across the waters
Hath power
When
And when
There
is
to hold the surges under,

rise
they
the
no
in the
night
up
in
moon
light
till
foam and thunder.

is
taken away,
early day,
And
nothing on the sea can hold
The
strength of waters mountain-rolled,
No
light
along the hidden sea
Husheth the waves continually.
NOCTURNE
STARS
in the silent
Wake
while the robins drowse.
boughs
After so long a winging
What
starts
Of course
Which
it
them now
is
Are
a love,
they are
But song and
to singing
dreaming
stars
of.
and dreams
lovelier than love seems.
Dreams and
Oh why
the stars and song
does the world go
59
wrong
THE GRAVE
I
WONDER
if
she grieves in her dark grave
Because she may not look through closed eyes

the mild moth wings of the
morning wave
When
And swarm
wonder
Wakens
To
the tranquil emptiness of skies
regret for the green earth
if
her heart and
tells
her timid feet
grope back homeward through the gates of birth
Where
there
Once on
a sun to
make
the
shadow sweet
her grave the flowers were

springing up,
And
they were bursting with the need to live
And
every flower had raised an empty cup
Under
the April sun, and sang:
And now
they
Their cups
lift
still
"O
give!"
unto a sunless cloud
empty, and they
still
"
cry
And
so
may
she be crying in her shroud,
And
so
may
she have
still
the need to live.
60
Give
"
TIME S LOSSES
I
EGYPTIAN sands
With winds of
Up
heaven
all
wave on wave,
the ages,
s stairs,
They drown
And
are restless like the sea!
the Pyramid, they rave
that rival of eternity
Cleopatra beckoned Anthony
To show
her with a kiss
if
he were brave
Five fathom underneath the climbing grave
That
riddles to the
Sphinx unanswerably.
Holier ashes in the sands are drowned
Than
Of
queens that
The
s, fair
Cleopatra
"
"
Tragedies
of Alexandria
In ashes are they dead
That they
in
but fainter fames
were no more than blooms of sound,
God
Go
are living
tell
flames.
the Sphinx
when God
thinks
TIME
LOSSES
II
THE
Are
golden
all
pillars
of the Parthenon
discrowned of the Pheidian frieze
Statues of gods within the waves off Greece
The Romans drowned,
and then they voyaged on.
Chryselephantine phantom of the dawn,
Such
And
is
Athena now that no man
never in Melos more
With
may Venus
ease
her lost lovely arms her lovers gone.
Earth the eternal
lies
Of men who made

She waits
To make
her
of
of her so great a mother.
men
spirit
upon the tomb
alive she waits
the
still
what other
from her body bloom,
Her maiden majesty and
And
sees
act of love,
unconceived dreams thereof?
ON A MACEDONIAN TOMB
So soon, behold, they
Man
and
his
Which from
woman
tired
of
this their
even one
the love of
in death,
life left
Their souls explored and makes
They have
House,
out of breath
it
hard to rouse.
released themselves and dare not drowse,
Mistrustful, though the stealthy silence saith:

"
Unto
the dead no
new
thing followeth,
So slumber on beneath the cypress
Yea, they have
Of the
risen
boughs."
now and plumb
the deep
god-haunted spaces of the skies,
Nor
trust the sad security
Nor
rest the ageless
of sleep,
watching of their eyes,
Lest the abortion of the future leap
Quick on them with
the terror of surprise.
THE END OF THE STORY

SADLY
midnight in the
at
my
Time
Its
forehead,
that
is
death-watch
And
in
Ebbing
my
its
till
hear again
disenchanted
soul I
tidal plain
Good
If night were not so long
night
Out of
is
a waste without one bloom,
book, and from imagined
Is lagging in the
resume
gloom
hear the Grecian main
music from a
I sink into myself.
The
now
like a sentry in the
That now becomes
I close the
room
book, and on the window pane
I close the
I lean
little
night,
!
See
stagnant
those arms the
Ah, but
moon
is
good night,
how
arms of yonder
flight
tree
see
the
moon
how
soon
rising free
AT PARTING
HUSH and
Than
Her
give over
to return
The wings
Call her
have no other thought
now
to be silent
Of her own
for
Ah, cease
on the sunset verge
lone horizon she has caught
own
of her
no more
spirit
lest, if
sought and sought.
she should emerge
Shoreward a moment, she should

Breaking again upon the
would, instead, that
Yea,
this instead,
life
nights that
When
to
my
feel the
surge
forgot.
might go with her
because she
And may be troubled when

And have no knowledge of
The
to urge
must be
is
so
young
the shadows
her
stir
way among
lonelier than
they were,
hand she tremulously clung.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

SHE
sleeps
and
shall she yet
awake
She
lies
So very quiet on her narrow bed.
The
lace about her throat, the
lilies
spread
Upon her bosom neither fall nor rise,

Nor pale beneath the pallor of the skies
Veiled by the darkened windows; candles shed
The
light that
When
only
falls
about the dead.
they are burned what
Princess of Slumber for a
Before you
fell
asleep
dawn
shall
touch her eyes
Hundred Years,
you dried your
tears,
Hearing a Prince should come for your awaking,
And
gladly closed your eyes to wait for
So
he leave your eyes forever dim,
if
Grieve not
you
shall
not
66
know your
him
old mistaking
TO
"MUSIC
LITTLE longer
Upon
But
The
the keys.
still,
let
Oh
HEAR"
fall
thy fingers
oh cease not yet
cease,
oh very gently, touch and
sleep of an enchanted madrigal
Fret and awake, call and caress and
And
give not over calling,
song with
Thy
The silence
But
let
Above
till it
thy tears,
at last,
and
song that sleeps.
thine hands in
forget
end of
let
it
be
Touch
mine be
that halcyon brooding
Which was
call,
weep and wet
that shall be the
Give over now
Waken no
all
all.
not a key,
quiet.
Lo
on the seas
thy voice, the tidal silences
Float with the drowned
fret
life
of long ago
FOR A PICTURE OF A SAINT

SHE was
who
a girl
waited on the Lord,
And
years becalmed were hers that she might pray,
For
He
had pleasure
in the simple
way
She spake, and when before the Throne she poured
The
patience of her gaze she
With
all
the viols that in
And from
the
hymn on
Earthward to her
Fountains were
And on
Or
if
if
Had
Heaven
play,
high the Will would stray
some enchanted word.
like the service
of her thought,
her soul, forsooth, her senses
Like April rains
But
for
made accord
at night that
she ever loved I cannot

the soul that has to
waken
fell
not.
tell,
Heaven been caught
dared to tarry with a soul in Hell.
TO ONE WHOSE LOVE WAS

SHE never would have had
The two
Nor
or three
who
a parting grieve
gathered in her name,
for the spent self-sacrificial flame
Of all
her days spared she at
all
The
tired late
The
hours ungleaned, but offered
hours
That presence
claim
And
SERVICE
so
left in
unto
.
to sheave
the field at eve,
which
still
the
same
prayers
made
would not take
leave.
our
we dreamed
that she
But on a night that was without a moon
Or
even a
star to light her
Beside her
She
long
last
way,
we might come and kneel

and we know not then how soon
She moved her
lips that
laid her lips upon us for her seal ;

But when we rose it was another day.
A FACE
SUSCEPTIBLE as silence to a song,
Or
Or
lakes to winds, or night to slow sunrise,
dreamers sleeping where the moonlight
On
meadows,
These
to the
moon
lies
evasions long,
are the eyes the days departed throng
With memories
like clouds
upon the skies,

Till out of weariness remembrance dies,
And
Yet
hope, and nothing
now
is
right or
wrong.
weary may outsleep the dawn
as the
And waken
in the doubtful
evening light,
Thinking it still is dawn and not the night,

So she would think,
if
only Love would tell!
That
still
her golden hours have not
The shadowy way that
leads
all
gone
from Heaven to Hell.
THE PIETA OF MICHEL ANGELO

LOOK now how
Even
Or
like
like a
Who
broken and
how
spent he
an arrow shattered in a
lies,
tree,
messenger of victory
to his
home
so races that he dies.
In death dead-tired, he seems to agonise
Now
for the rest he takes
Of her who knows how

Bowing with
He knew
Once,
restful death
must be,
pitilessly peaceful eyes.
the virtue had gone out of him,
in the years
sickened
The
upon the knee
woman
accomplished, to console
;
now from
every limb
crucified extortion of his soul
Drains until limbs are shrunk and eyes are dim

Virtue enough to
make
a sick world whole.
ATALANTA
I
THINK
that Atalanta turned her face
Backward along the course and saw the man,

Desperately defeated as he ran,
Throw down
Where
She scanned
The shame
Of girlhood
Oh
And
a golden apple
upon
a place
she must pass again and win the race.
what care had she
his eyes
to scan
of gold that was to break her ban
and she
faltered in her pace.
then she feared the fear to be a bride,

feared the
wind
that had laid bare her thigh
She burned to blushes, but she paused and bowed
Above
the apple
till
She hid her burning
And
he passed her by;

in his
dusty cloud
heard the trailing laughter of his pride!
IN
THE HOME OF
As though to-morrow were
The
the mortal morn,
unpermitted portal in the hall
Where
Those
With
have turned the golden keys of
passionate quest and hope not
And by mine own
to
me
that I
all
forlorn,
might
call
intrusion disenthrall
secret that he keeps behind his bourne.
Scarce would I say God grant, for
Yet granting death
to
me
in
God
grant
Nor
so distracted by a strangling breath
my
spirit
That then should be

love that after
grants deatH
time to come,
God
The
all
other portals wide and overworn
Death seems so near
The
LIFE
be not wholly numb,
eclipsed by the pain
all
was
73
all life s
gain.
WHEN
WHEN
And
am
AM OLD
old and weary of the world,
ready for the solitary change
That
after all adventure shall be strange
When
have hurled
after revolutions that
The crowns
of noon into the ocean swirled
Round my Helena and its haunted grange

I shall beside the window sit and range
Lost kingdoms with a dream of banners furled,
Be with me then ...
Upon your
Oh
or
if
you have
to be
errand to Eternity,
keep not hidden in the skyey blue;
But turn
And
That
at
star, half lingeringly,
every
drop a quiet flower of memory,

I
may know
the
way
74
to follow you.
THE NIGHTINGALES
STILL in Boccaccio
As
book the nightingales,
in the ancient night
With
stars that
Gleam
made
in the silence
Boccaccio told of
of Florence, cool
the silence purposeful,
with the starry tales
lust that
wore love
Pure songs, they charm the claws of
s veils.
Time
that pull
away and show the withered skull

Hidden where the face flushes not now nor pales.
Love
Oh
s veils
for
what face outlived
Hers who
Call ye
Oh
is
living
among
that
now and
here asleep,
the dead, proud wakeners
call no more, or she will
She wanders
once was hers,
now by broken
wake and weep

sepulchres,
She has an other tryst than mine to keep.
75
THE POET
JUST
listen to the poet s
Of life
he wants to
dream
live the
So starving, that to feed
whole
his soul,
Poor fellow, he must make things seem
THE MASTERPIECE
I
THINK
Men
ere
any early poet awed
with a haunted image of Mankind,
They buried in a grave gone out of mind

The supreme poet who imagined God.
77
YOUTH
I
AM
Thou
as
one born blind. God,
hast enchanted
So sweet, that
Of
me
I forget the
78
me
see
in a strange land,
mystery
thine unseen, insinuating
let
Hand.
TIME IN A GARDEN
THE
daffodils
have held one golden day
For seven days and nights ; their day is done.

Their requiem, tis the iris misty and gray,
Which
holds the hour of twilight in the sun.
79
THE RHONE AT AVIGNON

UNDER
the towers the currents of the
Endure the deep

Proud from the
Rhone
division of an isle,
first
embrace to wait alone
Their marriage through the seaward Afterwhile.
ON A CERTAIN IRREGULARITY
PUT
I
out the
know
When
World
want
to sleep awhile
about her beauties very well.

I
am
tired
She breaks the
of her Platonic smile,
Law
to
work
a Miracle
TO A DESERTED LITTER OF
NEW-BORN, and
so precariously
PUPPIES
new,
Blind in a milkless world, and shivering,
The
That
very puppies for a

the life-effort
is
moment knew
the fatal thing.
TO A GOADED SHEEP
IF
it
had
Limping
It
It
known
the journey
along, the
might have
known
mimic of
there
end, the dunce,

its
was n
pain,
t
much to gain
might have rested, and been killed
at
once.
A FRANCISCAN
His tonsure
His naked
like a
branded aureole,
feet, the rope that round
him
ties
The
sack that cloisters him
The
truant dreaming of his prisoned eyes
can these control

?
TRIBUTE
SOME few,
Pay unto
within a
God
But others have
They
suffer,
still,
religious haunt,
the tribute of their praise

to pay in other
God,
if that is
ways
what you want.
OUT OF DOORS
I
HEAR
And
the wings, the winds, the river pass,
toss the fretful
Poor book,
It
it
book upon the
could not cure
my
grass.
soul of aught
has itself the old disease of thought.
ABOUT AN ALLEGORY
IT was the earth that Dante trod
When
he trod Hell,
it
was the
earth,
Itself sufficient for the hearth
That warms
the hands of a cold God.
TRISTAN AND ISEULT OF THE WHITE
HANDS
A FRAGMENT
Tristan
BOY,
art
thou waking
fault
Nay, he
Have wakened
all
sleeps, but I
night through, dear lord.
Tristan
What news
Iseult
The dawn
hath broke the east. There hath no more
Than dawn and

And
the long
gradual stars
moon
come
over-sea,
since last I gave thee word.
Tristan
Then
will I
watch by day
as thou
by night,
Till that lone ship shall follow stars
Up
to the
And
empty
and moon
circle of the heavens,
on wings of white and bring
my love,
Or rise on raven wings and bring her not,
And tell me with its wings to live or die.
Lift me a little in my bed, Iseult,
Lift me, and let me look upon the light.
rise
Iseult
Yea, Tristan,
rest thine eyes
upon the sky
And
the untroubled presence of the sea,
And
rest
upon
my
breast thy fallen head.
Tristan
Thine arms
are
all
about
me
as of old.
Where have we
fallen apart, Iseult, that thus
Thine arms
all
And
I
am
are
about
me
thy loose hair entangles

as far
from thee as
hell
as of old
me, and
still
from heaven
Iseult
Ask me
not that, nor ask
it
of thyself,
Lest thou shouldst understand too well
How
flowers of loveliness
Perchance
waked
may
at last
fade for love.
for thee too long,
and faded
Tristan
Wert thou awake
indeed
Iseult
lord, indeed.
Yea,
Tristan
Would
Walled
in
had called thee then.
I lay alone,
by midnight darkness, and the waves
Rolled out their rhythms on the empty sands
And
set the
Then was
chambers murmuring
like a shell.
haunted by a ghost of fear
The
seas are very perilous by night,
And
love
is little
when
the seas are
wide
might have called thee when
Perchance Iseult of Cornwall will not come

I
trembled then,
And
felt
thee throbbing by me, breath by breath,
living creature in that deadly darkness.
Istult
The
The
midnight darkness walled us in together,

surges rolled their rhythms on the shore,
The chambers murmured dumbly like a shell,

And I was haunted by a ghost like thine.
I
have no
To
gift
of comfort any more
bring thee quiet breathing in the night,
my magic is nothing more than love,

And all my love is turned from me aside
While from my breast thou gazest to the sea.
For
all
Tristan
My
I
wound
am
How
master of
love not,
Lingers a
From
is
all
little
words, Iseult.
my wound to say
how love, how now my
only
help
my
loved indeed.
So for that love that
Be not
till
life
love
her sailing sinks her anchor here.
Thee have
Oh
my
too weary with
me
So for that love,
have not remembered,
live until the sails
come home
afraid, I should not leave thee then,

[
91
Not though
a friend had need and called, not though
Another love than thine were

Should
I arise
But
my
all
calling at last
and leave for love or
battle.
heart hath only this desire,
That the warm woman flower of overseas

Iseult of
Cornwall hear
my
Crossing the seas, and hide
And
hold
me
call
me
in her fragrance
and come,
in her hair,
till
I die.
TRANSLATIONS
SONNET
FROM RONSARD
I
WANT
to read the Iliad in three
So, Corydon, turn tight the lock
days,
on me.
If any one disturbs me,

verily,
Thou
I only
shalt find out
want
to
want to
Then
to
anger weighs,
come and make my bed
Our chambermaid,
I
how much mine
live three
thy mate, and never thee
days
make merry
in
for a
privacy,
week
ahead.
But should somebody from Cassandra come,

Open the door and let him enter straight,
Hurry
into
my
For him alone
room, and help
want
to be at
Otherwise, though a god for
From
me
dress.
home.
me
heaven, shut the door and
express
let
him
wait.
SONNET
FROM DU BELLAY
HAPPY
Or
he
like the
And
To
is
who
like
Ulysses travels
far,
one who made the conquest of the Fleece,
then returns, laden with lore and memories,
pass the remnant of his
Alas,
when
Above my
life
little
town, and
me
Which
is
Pleases
me more
Than
for
smoke upglide
what time of year
in
me more
my home
a province, and so
the mansion that
the facades of
Pleases
shall I see again the
See once again the garden of
Than
where kindred are
Roman
austere,
much
my
beside
fathers
knew
courts spectacular
than mighty marble the slate
the Italian Tiber
fine,
more the Gallic Loire,
And more my little Lyre than Mount Palatine,

And more than ocean wind the softness of Anjou.
UPON A DEAD WOMAN

FROM DE MUSSET
BEAUTIFUL was
Which
she, if the Night

where
Michel Angelo
sleeps
Has made her bed
the shrine twilight,
Without
may
a motion
She was a
saint, if
t is
Passing, to give with
be
so.
enough,
open palms,
So
God
If,
without pity, gold makes alms.
sees not nor speaks thereof;
Thoughtful she was,
Of a
the vain tone
sweet voice and subtly wrought,
Just like a
stream that maketh moan,
May make one have

She prayed,
if
Upon
A moment
belief in
thought.
two resplendent
the earth a
May
if
moment
eyes,
staying,
lifted to the skies,
properly be called a praying.

[
97
She would have smiled,
That
is
not in
full
if
ever a flower
blossom yet
Could be burst open by the power

Of winds that pass it and forget.
She would have wept,
Laid on her heart
Could once have
The dew
if
hand of
in this cold
felt in all
of heaven in
hers,
way,
her years
human
clay.
She would have loved, save that her
pride,
Like to the lamp unserviceable

Illumined at the coffin
By
She
s side,
her hard heart stood sentinel.
dead, and never lived at
She looks
Out of
as
her hands she has
The book
all.
though she were not dead.

let fall
that she has never read.
98
MEDITATION
FROM BAUDELAIRE
BE
patient,
Grief, and quiet down.
my
You call for Evening; it descends;

An atmosphere obscure enfolds the
Bringing to
some
Under
the lash of Pleasure,
doomsman
My Grief, hold
out your hand to
Afar from them. See

from the skies
drear,
of slave and clown,
Gather remorse
Bow
town,
hordes without renown,
in fetes
Out of
here;
repose, to others fear.
human
while the
Now,
t is
how
me draw
;
in robes
of by-gone styles
the water springs Regret and smiles
Beneath an arch
And drawn
is
like a
near,
the Years deceased
drowsed the dying sun,
long coffin toward the East,
Hear, love, the coming Night, the gentle one.
[99]
COMPLAINT OF LORD PIERROT

FROM
SHE
that
We
"
must put me wise about the Feminine
The
"
"
"
to
if this
God
my
two
reward his
"
God, how
Or
own."
All
all
"Alas,
And
who
I,
say
if
all
st
my
"
melody
I.
me
so bad
she wince and cry
is
too
trite
and you
100
"
"
not; others are jealous, too!
with one eye at the Unconscious sight
Thanks, not
"
I love thee
her eyes then, knowing that she
thou lov
sweetheart mine,
My
relative,"
right."
cry escape her
will
air least impolite
keys have heart, thou shalt be
With
"
with
firstly,
angles of a triangle,
Are equal
And
her
tell
11
JULES LAFORGUE
"
Let
we
play that
profit
are true
"
"
am
weary,
After you,
"
At
last if
ll
So
mutter:
it
if
you
she shall die
Among my
Nature, for what
For each who loses someone wins

u Thou It be the first to
I
.
"
books
lines like these
certain of
it.
please."
some evening,
fugitive
feigning to be incredulous,
"Well
was serious
Then
now, but
we had
"
101
the
Means
to Live!
CONCEITS
FROM
AH
Do
the
JULES LAFORGUE
the
Moon,
you think there
Dead
Moon
is
obsesses
remedy
me
But may she not be merely numb,

Drunken with the cosmic opium ?
rose-window with thine efflorescence
Tomb-like
Thou
in the
Temple of Quiescence,
persistest in thine attitude,
While
with
I stifle
my
Yes, oh yes, thy breast

But,
if
never
Oh, to-morrow
may
lonely mood.
is
fashioned
suckle there
fair
.
night, and such allusion
Will go off a-laughing
in confusion,
Finding
in
my
platonism fine
Raptures of an angler
Queen of
Lilies, hail
at his line.
Your Majesty,
would pierce thee with the moths of me
would
kiss thy patine,
widowed
Charger of Saint John the Baptist
would
find a
Thou would
st
head
song to touch thee so,
voyage to the mouth below.
But there are no other rhymes
What
for
most regrettable lacuna
Moon
ah,
WIND
SEA
FROM MALLARME
THE
flesh
is
sad, alas,
Flight, flight out there
To
and
!
the books are read.
all
The
birds, I
unknown foam and
be amid the
in the skies
Nothing, not olden gardens mirrored
Can hold
at
home
nights, nor yet
On
my
the
young wife
1 will depart.
Lift anchor
now
candle
who
in the eyes
plunges in the sea,
lonely clarity
whose whiteness keeps
the blank page
Nor
An
this heart that
are ravished
know,
it
undefiled,
suckles at her breast her child.
steamer with thy masts asway,

for an exotic
Far-away.
ennui, desolate with hopes that turned to griefs,
Is trusting
And
it
still
may
the last good-bye of handkerchiefs
be these masts, which to the tempests beck,
wind may bend above a wreck

Lost, with no masts, no masts nor isles exuberant
Are even of those
But hearken,
my
heart, unto the
Note: The first line
is
sailors
Arthur Symons\
chant
WHAT
SILK IN SCENTS
FROM MALLARME
WHAT
silk in scents
Where
the
Is
Chimera
of centuries
is
subdued
worth the shape and native nude
That you
outside your mirror ease
The wounds
of banners eloquent
Exalt along the thoroughfare
But
no
taste
have your naked hair
For covering
Ah
To
my
eyes content.
mouth may not be sure

of that which makes it fond,
the
Till he, your princely paramour,
Extinguish, like a diamond,
In the considerable tangles
The
cry of Glories that he strangles.
MUSETTE
FROM MURGER
SEEING a swallow yesterday
Bringing the year into
I
its
prime,
was reminded of the fay
Who
And
loved
even
In revery
me when
till
drew near
bowed above
The almanack
When
she had the time
the night
of that old year
she and I were so in love.
my youth is not dead yet,

Not dead my memory of you
If at my door you knocked, Musette,
Ah, no,
would open and draw you through.

Because your name still makes it beat,
My
heart
Muse
of
infidelity,
Come back that we again may

The blessed bread of gaiety.
06
eat
The
things about our
The
olden friends of our amour,
little
may come
Just in the hope that you
Put on again a gay
Come, you
allure.
will see
them
Mourning because you
The
little
all,
left
my
them
lass,
there,
bed and the big glass,
From which you
You
room,
often drank
share.
my
should put on your white array,
Exactly as of yore you should,
And
as of yore the
We
d go to run about the
And
in a
We M
bower
at
Sabbath day
it
Musette,
The
evening
dip a
who
at the last
a pleasant
sunk
morn
had learned
to rest,
returned,
Migrating bird, to the old nest
But even
No
wing
soared into the night.
carnival had
Upon
drink again that vintage light
Wherein your song would

Before
wood
in
kissing the coquette,
longer did
my
[
heart beat high,
107
And
who
she,
Said that
Adieu,
now
Dead with
Our
youth
is
no more Musette,
was no longer
I.
go your ways,
the love that

is
is
my
dear,
no more
in its sepulchre
Beneath the almanack of yore.

J
is
The
only
now
A memory may
The
by digging through
dust of days that in
key of the
find
it
lies
anew
lost paradise.
08
AFTER THREE YEARS

FROM VERLAINE
WHEN
I
had pushed the narrow gate that hung
made my way
Whereover
into the
quietly the
little
garden close,
morning sunshine glows,
Jeweling every blossom with a watery
Nothing has changed.
Bower with
Always the
the vine
jet
I see
it all
of water makes
its silver
The
roses as of yore are throbbing

great proud
Even
its
Thin,
threnody unending.
each lark that in and out
at the alley s
in the
sound,
as of yore
the breeze are bending o er.
lilies in
the Velleda, I find,
Down
the unpretending
the old aspen tree
I recollect
star.
grown wild and wicker chairs around,
And
The
ajar,
is
is
sailing.
standing yet,
end, with
all its
plaster scaling,
sickening perfume of the mignonette.
I0 9
NEVERMORE
FROM VERLAINE
MEMORY, Memory, what would
st
thou have
Has
put the thrush to flight across the fatal
The
while the sun
is
On
yellowing woods
We
were alone and
darting a
monotonous
The
fall
air,
glare
that thunder with a northern squall.
in a
dream we walked away,
Just she and I together, with hair and thought blown free.
Suddenly uttered, with her
Her
voice of living gold
"
thrilling
gaze on me,
What was
"
thy happiest day
Fresh and angelical, her ringing voice and sweet
I let
her have her answer in a smile discreet,
And
pressed a kiss on her white hand, devotedly.
Ah, the
And
first
flowers of
sounds with what a
The u
"
yes
that
is
the
how good they are

murmur of felicity
all,
first
from
10
lips adorable.
to smell
MY
FAMILIAR DREAM
FROM VERLAINE
OFTEN
Of
an
have a vision strange and close
Unknown
And who
is
Another, and
me
who
she loves and
She knows me, and
For her alone,
is
she alone of
my
my
all
me
brow
refresh, in tears.
Her name
know
is
soft
she knows.
pale sweating
auburn, dark
As of
me,
now
Is she blonde,
?
loves
heart, alas, that clears
not a problem
For her alone, and
Can
and
I love
never the same, nor utterly
that
it
cannot say.
and splendid,
the loves that Life has driven

away.
Her gaze
is
as the
gaze of statuary,
And
she has in her voice, grave, distant, airy,
The
cadence of dear voices that have ended.
LANGUOR
FROM VERLAINE
I
AM
Who
The
the
at the
Empire
end of the Decline,
watch the marching of the tall barbarians white,

while I am composing some acrostics slight,
All in the golden style adance with tired sunshine.
My
soul
is
Far off they
sick at heart with an ennui supine.
of
tell
a long and bloody fight.
many
O lack of power, being so weak for vows so light,

O lack of will to use awhile this life of mine
!
lack of will,
Ah,
all is
drunk
Ah,
all is
drunk,
Only, a
bit
lack of
to die awhile
Bathyllus, wilt thou always smile

all
eaten
of verse too
Only, a slave neglecting
Only, an ennui,
power
There
trivial that
you
who knows
no more
to say
you burn,
a bit to stray,
what, that makes you mourn
OH HEAVY, HEAVY WAS MY MIND

FROM VERLAINE
OH
heavy, heavy was
my
mind,
Because, because of womankind.
never could be comforted,
Far off although
Although
my
Far from the
mind, although
woman
my
heart
kept apart.
never could be comforted,
Far off although
My
heart,
Said to
Is
heart had fled.
my
it
This
my
heart had fled.
my
heart in very ruth
my mind
the truth
"
Is
it
or has
the truth,
it
been
exile proud, this exile
"3
keen
"
My
mind
said to
Myself make out
Of
exiles
However
my
heart
this
who remain
far
"
mystery
at
home,
away they roam
"4
Do
"
CYDALISES
FROM GERARD DE NERVAL
WHERE
are our mistresses
tomb
They
are within the
They
have more happiness
Within
They with
Are deep
And
the seraphim
in the blue
sky,
with their praises
The mother
of the
O virgin in
O snow-white
first
Love-woman
To
home
a lovelier
hymn
Most High
flower,
bride to be,
for
an hour,
fade in misery,
Eternity profound
Was
smiling in your eyes
Lights that the
Rekindle in the skies

[
world has drowned,
"5
DELPHICA
FROM GERARD DE NERVAL
DAPHNE, do you remember this old strain,
Under the sycamore or laurel white,
Or
blown willows
olives, myrtles, or
This song of love
Do
light,
that always starts

again
you remember the great columned fane,
The
bitter citrons that
The
cavern, death to
Where
They
Time
you
still
many
would
bite,
a wreckless wight,
sleep old offspring of the dragon slain
will return, these
gods you weep always

back the reign of ancient days
The earth has quivered with the breath immortal
!
will bring
And
yet the sibyl of the
Sleeps
still
And
Roman mien
beneath the arch of Constantine
nothing has disturbed that haughty
portal,
MIGNON S SONG
FROM GOETHE
KNOWEST
thou the country where the citrons bloom
Gold oranges light up the leafy gloom,

Indolent wind is in the azure skies,
The
myrtle
still
and high the laurel
Dost thou remember

I
would, Beloved,
Knowest thou
rise.
Thither, thither,
we might
go together.
the mansion with the
The
laughter of the light
And
marble statues stand and gaze
is
columned walls ?
in its halls,
at
me
what have they done to thee

Dost thou remember ? Thither, thither,
"Unhappy child,
would,
my
saviour,
we might go
"7
together.
?"
Knowest thou
The mule
The
the mountain and
seeks out the
dragon
Plunges the
and over
Dost thou remember
Our way
way amid
ancient brood
cliff,
Father,
its
it
is
cloudy tryst
the mist,
in the cave,
the wave.
Thither, thither
let
us go together
SONG
FROM HEINE
HE
was an olden monarch,
Hoary of
The
hair, his heart
lonely olden
Married a maiden
He was
Yellow
He
a page in
had died.
monarch
bride.
Maytime,
was his mien.
his hair, glad
bore the silken trailing
Train of the maiden queen.
Knowest thou
So
full
the olden ditty,
of sweet, so
full
of woe
They
had to die together,
They
loved each other so.
TO ZANTE
FROM UGO FOSCOLO
NE
ER
shall I reach again the shores divine
Where was
Zante,
Of
delivered
who
Greek
the
my
body young,
dost in the surges shine
from which was Venus sprung
sea,
Virgin, and filled those isles with flower and vine
At her
first
For thy
smile,
whence
clear clouds
and
is
all
fatal
still
a tongue
those boughs of thine
In the immortal verse of him
The
there
who sung
waters and the exile strange,
From which, made
fair
with fame and bitter change,
Ulysses kissed his rocky Ithaca.
Thou
of thy son shalt have the song alone,
mother land of mine
From
the fates withdraw
us the grave that thou might
st
weep upon.
ON THE DEATH OF A BROTHER

FROM UGO FOSCOLO
SOME
go not forever flying

From people to people, thou shalt see
day,
Upon
thou
mother,
Speaks about
now
me
alone to her night

nighing,
unto thine ashes
But with wild hands
And
I
to reach
lonely from afar salute
know
at
you
my
life
am
trying,
tempestuously,
thy portal pray I too for
strangers, yield at least the
Unto
home.
rest.
This out of so much hope

to-day
dumb
the hostile Fates and unconfessed
Cares that were in thy
And
me come
my brother, sighing
so gentle years the fallen bloom.
thy grave,
Of thy
Our
if I
the
bosom of
is left
bones of
the mother reft.
me
ftiterpibe
CAMBRIDGE
MASSACHUSETTS
14 DAY USE
RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED
LOAN
DEPT.
This book is due on the last date stamped below,

or on the date to which renewed. Renewals only:
Tel. No. 642-3405
Renewals may be made 4 days prior to date due.
Renewed books are subject to immediate recall.
_______
"
MOLD
APR
72 -4PM
60
(OWNED TO
l.w
HEFB
LU
U in
M982
33
0-
CO*
CDSSEEDEfll
UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY
f&BXxf.
:M4/V\

Walter Conrad Arensberg - Poems, 1914

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Walter Conrad Arensberg - Poems, 1914

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

uc-

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published April 1914

BY WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published April iqi4

LITTLE M. A. ON HER BIRTHDAY

AMONG THE FIELDS

BALLADE TO MY LADY MOONLIGHT

ABOVE THE SEA

FOR A PICTURE BY LEONARDO DA VINCI

THE WILD ROSE

THE END OF THE STORY

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

FOR A PICTURE OF A SAINT

To ONE WHOSE LOVE WAS SERVICE

THE PIETA OF MICHEL ANGELO

THE RHONE AT AVIGNON

UPON A DEAD WOMAN. From De Mussel

MEDITATION. From Baudelaire

COMPLAINT OF LORD PIERROT.

SEA WIND. From Mallarme

AFTER THREE YEARS. From

MUSETTE. From Murger ....

FAMILIAR DREAM. From Verlaine

LANGUOR. From Verlaine

OH HEAVY, HEAVY WAS MY MIND. From

DELPHICA. From Gerard de Nerval

To ZANTE. From Ugo Foscolo

Thou weep st that loss of Guinevere

with Death and knows

from withered Ilion

Have taken her

love and given peace

when on windy wings

Into thine eyes Francesca brings,

Ark from Dante

Dove-like, so faint, so far a look

this alone, for

which did sing

In death could do no more than this

while within the heart of thee.

EAGER and unaware

Singing a song he went

the long lonely stair

upon the sands

songs he used to sing,

void of the sea-line

fragile rushes sprung

In sudden waves of death.

That bore on changing streams

the suns and

His visions come and go,

his brief passion broods.

sang, and ceased to sing,

while his years were spring,

had no time to die

No time upon the quest

time, no time for rest.

sought the shapes of sense