Star over Bethlehem (15 page)

Shall not hear its mate reply.

In the North white streams are flowing,

In the North the flowers are blowing,

But my heart that is a lover's

Shall not know a second Spring …

Hers the ring upon my finger,

Now I pray may death not linger,

Say of me “He was a Lover,”

Lived and died to serve a Queen.

 

W
HERE
she passes, there is Light

After Night …

A smile that follows on a sigh

As she goes by …

With her footsteps comes a sound

All round,

As of wild and woodland things

Gently stirring fragile things

When Beatrice passes by …

With her presence comes a calm

Full of balm …

Where she steps the flowers abound

On holy ground …

At her touch the trembling trees,

Even these,

Put forth tender buds that break,

Blossoming for her sweet sake

Who is Light and Love …

At her coming there is Life

After strife!

Larks are singing in the sky

When she draws nigh!

At her voice the quivering Earth

Knows rebirth,

Stirs me to a sudden cry!

Then she passes—passes by,

Leaving (so to me it seems)

Only darkness filled with dreams …

 

U
NDINE
, straight and gold and white …

Shimmering tresses, braided bright …

Lips, not scarlet—Scarlet? No,

Cool and pale as water's flow.

Cool and pale against my heart

All thy body, and thou art

Like a lily on the lake

Where no man his thirst shall slake.

And thy petals tightly curled

Hold the jewel of the world,

Looking in thy deep green eyes

Far I see it where it lies

Hidden by the water's play,

Grave sweet soul behind the gay.

Now I know no jewel's there

So forever thou art fair …

So forever,

Loving never,

Thou art fair, Undine,

So fair …

Unforgettably, so fair …

 

H
OW
heavy are the hawthorn trees,

Weighed down with blossom,

Laden with heavy perfume,

Like the bodies and souls of women

Heavy with fruit of men's desire

Or with their own desire in Spring.

Up in the sky, divorced from earth,

The aeroplanes pass

Roaring along on their gallant adventures;

They are the souls of men

Set free from earth,

Set free from the load of blossom

And the cloying perfumes of Spring,

They fly and are free.

Yet at the last they must return,

Fall back to earth,

Gliding down presently and skimming the ground

Or falling in vivid flame,

Yet still returning to earth.

And there shall Earth

Gather them once again in her inmost womb

And in due course

The trees shall be laden again

With leaves and blossom and fruit.

How heavy are the hawthorn trees …

How heavy … how achingly sweet.

Shall there never be peace?

And cold clear air?

With never a scent or a breath

Of the growing clustering flowering earth?

How heavy are the hawthorn trees in Spring,

How painfully, achingly sweet …

 

I
HAVE
said
I adore you;

I have said it—I have said it.

Said it against your throat

Where the pulses beat

And under the curve of your breast …

Outside the moon rides high in the sky,

A lemon moon,

A moon the colour of honey

Made by the bees from lime trees.

O pale lemon-coloured moon,

You were worshipped five thousand years ago,

The temples they built you are dust

Or buried under the earth,

But you are still the moon

Riding high and proud in the sky …

I am sick of words

Of everlasting meaningless words.

I love you—I love you—that parrot cry.

Cannot flesh take flesh in silence?

But no—you will not have it so.

You were made for incense,

For burning words,

Words—words—words—going on through the night …

While I worship the pulse in your throat

And the curve of your breast …

In twenty years your face will be haggard,

Your eyes will be cold,

Your sagging breasts will not stir my desire—

But the moon will be still the moon …

And I?

What am I?

I am a man who loves you

Desperately, blindly.

I am a man in the street

Seeing the moon …

I am an old man in a club

Ringing the bell and saying “Old brandy.”

I am curled up in my mother's womb

Knowing nothing of all this extraordinary business

Called Life,

Unhurt by the torture of beauty,

Unconscious as yet that beauty is …

I am all these things and always have been

And ever shall be.

O moon, ride high in the sky tonight,

Ride high,

Ride high …

 

L
OVE
is a white flame—And a smouldering smoky fire

It is a green tree—And a grey cathedral spire

Love is an ecstasy—pure—It stirs in mud and slime

It is youth and delight—It is cold and sublime

There is none shall say

What Love is—or is not,

And which of us shall say:

“Dwell!” or “Depart!”

Love will not stay

And will not leave the heart

At our desire or plea.

But oh! for me

This would I pray

That Love might be a tree

Rooted in time—for all eternity.

 

N
OW
is the winter past, but for my part

Still winter stays until we meet again.

Dear love, I have your promise and your heart

But lacking touch and sight, spring buds bring pain.

Friendship
is ours, and still in absence grows.

No dearer friend I own, so close, so kind.

Knowledge
is yours, from you to me it flows

And I have loved your wise and gentle mind.

Beauty
we share, a white magnolia tree

Rooted in England brings you to my side

And Roman columns rising from the sea

Must surely bring remembrance with the tide.

So in my winter, love, I dream of spring

Enclosed within the circle of your ring …

 

I
F
I should leave you in the days to come—

God grant that may not be—

But yet if so,

Your love for me must fade I know.

You will remember—and you will forget.

But oh! imperishable—strong

My love for you shall burn and glow

Deep in your heart—your whole life long,

Unknown, unseen, but living still in bliss

So you shall bear me with you all the days.

Forget then what you will.

I died—but not my love for you,

That lives for aye—though dumb,

Remember this

If I should leave you in the days to come.

 

I
AM
tired of the past that clings around my feet,

I am tired of the past that will not let life be sweet,

I would cut it away with a knife and say

Let me be myself—reborn—today.

But I am afraid of the past—that it will creep back to my feet

And look in my face and say, “You laugh and eat

But I am here with you yet …

You would not remember—but I will not let you forget …”

What is or is not courage? Who shall say?

Shall I be brave or base if I cut the past away?

Sometimes I have dreamed that you have stood and said:

“I too have sometimes longed to be freed from the dead

Burden of our remembrance, free from your sorrow.”

Let there be no yesterday and no tomorrow,

Let there be for us only today,

Ride it—ride it through Time and away.

 

T
HERE
is no knowing

What time shall bring,

What then is growing

This day of Spring?

Love that is lonely,

Love far away,

Ah! could I only

See you for a day.

Love-that-lies-bleeding

And love-in-the-mist,

Tulips that need you

Still staying unkist.

You are my heart, love,

And you are my life,

We are apart, love,

And I am your wife.

God then have pity

And bring you to me

Here in the city

From over the sea.

When you come home, love,

What words will there be?

You will say “Sunflower”

And say it to me.

 

I
LOST
my love, she left me.

My fair love,

My false love,

My fair false love.

I wandered to the Fairy Hills,

I cried to them to mend my ills,

I called to my lost love,

My fair love, my false love.

I saw a Fairy Lady there

With long white hands and drowning hair …

And oh!—her face was wild and sweet,

Was sweet and wild,

Was wild and strange and fair …

Her eyes looked past me,

Through me and beyond me,

Seeking for a vanished Fairy Lover.

I walked by her side there,

Down a Fairy Ride there,

Seeking for a vanished Fairy Lover.

I cried to the Hills there

That they should mend my ills there,

I called to my lost love,

My fair love, my false fair love.

But the Fairy Lady by my side

She neither spoke nor moaned nor cried

But pushed aside her drowning hair

And oh! her face was wild and sweet

And sweet and wild and fair …

And now I am at home again

And many seek to ease my pain

They say in time I shall forget