Forty-Two Poems [6]
and cool
The wind about the garden pool.
Here will I dip my burning hand
And move an inch of drowsy sand,
And pray the dark reflected skies
To fasten with their seal mine eyes.
A million million leagues away
Among the stars the goldfish play,
And high above the shadowed stars
Wave and float the nenuphars.
THE WELSH SEA
Far out across Carnarvon bay,
Beneath the evening waves,
The ancient dead begin their day
And stream among the graves.
Listen, for they of ghostly speech,
Who died when Christ was born,
May dance upon the golden beach
That once was golden corn.
And you may learn of Dyfed's reign,
And dream Nemedian tales
Of Kings who sailed in ships from Spain
And lent their swords to Wales.
Listen, for like a golden snake
The Ocean twists and stirs,
And whispers how the dead men wake
And call across the years.
OXFORD CANAL
When you have wearied of the valiant spires of this County Town,
Of its wide white streets and glistening museums, and black monastic
walls,
Of its red motors and lumbering trains, and self-sufficient people,
I will take you walking with me to a place you have not seen -
Half town and half country--the land of the Canal.
It is dearer to me than the antique town: I love it more than the
rounded hills:
Straightest, sublimest of rivers is the long Canal.
I have observed great storms and trembled: I have wept for fear of the
dark.
But nothing makes me so afraid as the clear water of this idle canal on a
summer s noon.
Do you see the great telegraph poles down in the water, how every wire is
distinct?
If a body fell into the canal it would rest entangled in those wires for
ever, between earth and air.
For the water is as deep as the stars are high.
One day I was thinking how if a man fell from that lofty pole
He would rush through the water toward me till his image was scattered by
his splash,
When suddenly a train rushed by: the brazen dome of the engine flashed:
the long white carriages roared;
The sun veiled himself for a moment, and the signals loomed in fog;
A savage woman screamed at me from a barge: little children began to
cry;
The untidy landscape rose to life: a sawmill started;
A cart rattled down to the wharf, and workmen clanged over the iron
footbridge;
A beautiful old man nodded from the first story window of a square red
house,
And a pretty girl came out to hang up clothes in a small delightful
garden.
O strange motion in the suburb of a county town: slow regular movement
of the dance of death!
Men and not phantoms are these that move in light.
Forgotten they live, and forgotten die.
HIALMAR SPEAKS TO THE RAVEN
from Leconte de Lisle
Night on the bloodstained snow: the wind is chill:
And there a thousand tombless warriors lie,
Grasping their swords, wild-featured. All are still.
Above them the black ravens wheel and cry.
A brilliant moon sends her cold light abroad:
Hialmar arises from the reddened slain,
Heavily leaning on his broken sword,
And bleeding from his side the battle-rain.
"Hail to you all: is there one breath still drawn
Among those fierce and fearless lads who played
So merrily, and sang as sweet in the dawn
As thrushes singing in the bramble shade?
"They have no word to say: my helm's unbound,
My breastplate by the axe unriveted:
Blood's on my eyes; I hear a spreading sound,
Like waves or wolves that clamour in my head.
"Eater of men, old raven, come this way,
And with thine iron bill open my breast:
To-morrow find us where we lie to-day,
And bear my heart to her that I love best.
"Through Upsala, where drink the Jarls and sing,
And clash their golden bowls in company,
Bird of the moor, carry on tireless wing
To Ylmer's daughter there the heart of me.
"And thou shalt see her standing straight and pale,
High pedestalled on some rook-haunted tower:
She has two earrings, silver and vermeil,
And eyes like stars that shine in sunset hour.
"Tell her my love, thou dark bird ominous;
Give her my heart,
The wind about the garden pool.
Here will I dip my burning hand
And move an inch of drowsy sand,
And pray the dark reflected skies
To fasten with their seal mine eyes.
A million million leagues away
Among the stars the goldfish play,
And high above the shadowed stars
Wave and float the nenuphars.
THE WELSH SEA
Far out across Carnarvon bay,
Beneath the evening waves,
The ancient dead begin their day
And stream among the graves.
Listen, for they of ghostly speech,
Who died when Christ was born,
May dance upon the golden beach
That once was golden corn.
And you may learn of Dyfed's reign,
And dream Nemedian tales
Of Kings who sailed in ships from Spain
And lent their swords to Wales.
Listen, for like a golden snake
The Ocean twists and stirs,
And whispers how the dead men wake
And call across the years.
OXFORD CANAL
When you have wearied of the valiant spires of this County Town,
Of its wide white streets and glistening museums, and black monastic
walls,
Of its red motors and lumbering trains, and self-sufficient people,
I will take you walking with me to a place you have not seen -
Half town and half country--the land of the Canal.
It is dearer to me than the antique town: I love it more than the
rounded hills:
Straightest, sublimest of rivers is the long Canal.
I have observed great storms and trembled: I have wept for fear of the
dark.
But nothing makes me so afraid as the clear water of this idle canal on a
summer s noon.
Do you see the great telegraph poles down in the water, how every wire is
distinct?
If a body fell into the canal it would rest entangled in those wires for
ever, between earth and air.
For the water is as deep as the stars are high.
One day I was thinking how if a man fell from that lofty pole
He would rush through the water toward me till his image was scattered by
his splash,
When suddenly a train rushed by: the brazen dome of the engine flashed:
the long white carriages roared;
The sun veiled himself for a moment, and the signals loomed in fog;
A savage woman screamed at me from a barge: little children began to
cry;
The untidy landscape rose to life: a sawmill started;
A cart rattled down to the wharf, and workmen clanged over the iron
footbridge;
A beautiful old man nodded from the first story window of a square red
house,
And a pretty girl came out to hang up clothes in a small delightful
garden.
O strange motion in the suburb of a county town: slow regular movement
of the dance of death!
Men and not phantoms are these that move in light.
Forgotten they live, and forgotten die.
HIALMAR SPEAKS TO THE RAVEN
from Leconte de Lisle
Night on the bloodstained snow: the wind is chill:
And there a thousand tombless warriors lie,
Grasping their swords, wild-featured. All are still.
Above them the black ravens wheel and cry.
A brilliant moon sends her cold light abroad:
Hialmar arises from the reddened slain,
Heavily leaning on his broken sword,
And bleeding from his side the battle-rain.
"Hail to you all: is there one breath still drawn
Among those fierce and fearless lads who played
So merrily, and sang as sweet in the dawn
As thrushes singing in the bramble shade?
"They have no word to say: my helm's unbound,
My breastplate by the axe unriveted:
Blood's on my eyes; I hear a spreading sound,
Like waves or wolves that clamour in my head.
"Eater of men, old raven, come this way,
And with thine iron bill open my breast:
To-morrow find us where we lie to-day,
And bear my heart to her that I love best.
"Through Upsala, where drink the Jarls and sing,
And clash their golden bowls in company,
Bird of the moor, carry on tireless wing
To Ylmer's daughter there the heart of me.
"And thou shalt see her standing straight and pale,
High pedestalled on some rook-haunted tower:
She has two earrings, silver and vermeil,
And eyes like stars that shine in sunset hour.
"Tell her my love, thou dark bird ominous;
Give her my heart,