Forty-Two Poems | Page 4

cities in the dead of night."?An old man said, "I read my books all day,?But death has taken all my books away."?And one, "The popes and prophets did not well?To cheat poor dead men with false hopes of hell.?Better the whips of fire that hiss and rend?Than painless void proceeding to no end."?I smiled to hear them restless, I who sought?Peace. For I had not loved, I had not fought,?And books are vanities, and manly strength?A gathered flower. God grant us peace at length!?I heard no more, and turned to leave their town?Before the chill came, and the sun went down.?Then rose a whisper, and I seemed to know?A timorous man, buried long years ago.?"On Earth I used to shape the Thing that seems.?Master of all men, give me back my dreams.?Give me that world that never failed me then,?The hills I made and peopled with tall men,?The palace that I built and called my home,?My cities which could break the pride of Rome,?The three queens hidden in the sacred tree,?And those white cloudy folk who sang to me.?O death, why hast thou covered me so deep??I was thy sister's child, the friend of Sleep."
Then said my heart, Death takes and cannot give.?Dark with no dream is hateful: let me live!
THE BALLAD OF CAMDEN TOWN
I walked with Maisie long years back
The streets of Camden Town,?I splendid in my suit of black,
And she divine in brown.
Hers was a proud and noble face,
A secret heart, and eyes?Like water in a lonely place
Beneath unclouded skies.
A bed, a chest, a faded mat,
And broken chairs a few,?Were all we had to grace our flat
In Hazel Avenue.
But I could walk to Hampstead Heath,
And crown her head with daisies,?And watch the streaming world beneath,
And men with other Maisies.
When I was ill and she was pale
And empty stood our store,?She left the latchkey on its nail,
And saw me nevermore.
Perhaps she cast herself away
Lest both of us should drown:?Perhaps she feared to die, as they
Who die in Camden Town.
What came of her? The bitter nights
Destroy the rose and lily,?And souls are lost among the lights
Of painted Piccadilly.
What came of her? The river flows
So deep and wide and stilly,?And waits to catch the fallen rose
And clasp the broken lily.
I dream she dwells in London still
And breathes the evening air,?And often walk to Primrose Hill,
And hope to meet her there.
Once more together we will live,
For I will find her yet:?I have so little to forgive;
So much, I can't forget.
MIGNON
Knowest thou the land where bloom the lemon trees,?And darkly gleam the golden oranges??A gentle wind blows down from that blue sky;?Calm stands the myrtle and the laurel high.?Knowest thou the land? So far and fair!?Thou, whom I love, and I will wander there.
Knowest thou the house with all its rooms aglow,?And shining hall and columned portico??The marble statues stand and look at me.?Alas, poor child, what have they done to thee??Knowest thou the land? So far and fair.?My Guardian, thou and I will wander there.
Knowest thou the mountain with its bridge of cloud??The mule plods warily: the white mists crowd.?Coiled in their caves the brood of dragons sleep;?The torrent hurls the rock from steep to steep.?Knowest thou the land? So far and fair.?Father, away! Our road is over there!
FELO DE SE
The song of a man who was dead?Ere any had heard of his song,?Or had seen this his ultimate song,?With the lines of it written in red,?And the sound of it steady and strong.?When you hear it, you know I am dead.
Not because I was weary of life?As pallid poets are:?My star was a conquering star,?My element strife.?I am young, I am strong, I am brave,?It is therefore I go to the grave.
Now to life and to life's desire,?And to youth and the glory of youth,?Farewell, for I go to acquire,?By the one road left me, Truth.?Though a great God slay me with fire?I will shout till he answer me. Why??(One soul and a Universe, why?)?And for this it is pleasant to die.
For years and years I have slumbered,?And slumber was heavy and sweet,?But the last few moments are numbered?Like trampling feet that beat.?I shall walk with the stars in their courses,?And hear very soon, very soon,?The voice of the forge of the Forces,?And ride on a ridge of the moon,?And sing a celestial tune.
TENEBRIS INTERLUCENTEM
A linnet who had lost her way?Sang on a blackened bough in Hell,?Till all the ghosts remembered well?The trees, the wind, the golden day.
At last they knew that they had died?When they heard music in that land,?And someone there stole forth a hand?To draw a brother to his side.
INVITATION?TO A YOUNG BUT LEARNED FRIEND TO ABANDON ARCHAEOLOGY FOR THE MOMENT, AND PLAY ONCE MORE WITH HIS NEGLECTED MUSE.
In those good days when we were young and wise,?You spake to music, you with the thoughtful eyes,?And God looked