Forty-Two Poems | Page 8

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, no bloodless heart and vile?But red compact and strong, O raven. Thus?Shall Ylmer's daughter greet thee with a smile.
"Now let my life from twenty deep wounds flow,?And wolves may drink the blood. My time is done.?Young, brave and spotless, I rejoice to go?And sit where all the Gods are, in the sun."
THE BALLAD OF THE STUDENT IN THE SOUTH
It was no sooner than this morn
That first I found you there,?Deep in a field of southern corn
As golden as your hair.
I had read books you had not read,
Yet I was put to shame?To hear the simple words you said,
And see your eyes aflame.
Shall I forget when prying dawn
Sends me about my way,?The careless stars, the quiet lawn,
And you with whom I lay?
Your's is the beauty of the moon,
The wisdom of the sea,?Since first you tasted, sweet and soon,
Of God's forbidden tree.
Darling, a scholar's fancies sink
So faint beneath your song;?And you are right, why should we think,
We who are young and strong?
For we are simple, you and I,
We do what others do,?Linger and toil and laugh and die
And love the whole night through.
THE QUEEN'S SONG
Had I the power
To Midas given of old?To touch a flower
And leave the petals gold?I then might touch thy face,
Delightful boy,?And leave a metal grace,
A graven