Poems by the Way Love Is Enough | Page 2

and praise of bliss,?Thither comes the country side.?There awhile shall we abide,?Sitting low down in the porch?By that image with the torch:?Thy one white hand laid upon?The black pillar that was won?From the far-off Indian mine;?And my hand nigh touching thine,?But not touching; and thy gown?Fair with spring-flowers cast adown?From thy bosom and thy brow.?There the south-west wind shall blow?Through thine hair to reach my cheek,?As thou sittest, nor mayst speak,?Nor mayst move the hand I kiss?For the very depth of bliss;?Nay, nor turn thine eyes to me.?Then desire of the great sea?Nigh enow, but all unheard,?In the hearts of us is stirred,?And we rise, we twain at last,?And the daffodils downcast,?Feel thy feet and we are gone?From the lonely Sun-Crowned one,?Then the meads fade at our back,?And the spring day 'gins to lack?That fresh hope that once it had;?But we twain grow yet more glad,?And apart no more may go?When the grassy slope and low?Dieth in the shingly sand:?Then we wander hand in hand?By the edges of the sea,?And I weary more for thee?Than if far apart we were,?With a space of desert drear?'Twixt thy lips and mine, O love!?Ah, my joy, my joy thereof!
OF THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN THE STRONG
A STORY FROM THE LAND-SETTLING BOOK OF ICELAND, CHAPTER XXX.
At Deildar-Tongue in the autumn-tide,?So many times over comes summer again,?Stood Odd of Tongue his door beside.?What healing in summer if winter be vain??Dim and dusk the day was grown,?As he heard his folded wethers moan.?Then through the garth a man drew near,?With painted shield and gold-wrought spear.?Good was his horse and grand his gear,?And his girths were wet with Whitewater.?"Hail, Master Odd, live blithe and long!?How fare the folk at Deildar-Tongue?"?"All hail, thou Hallbiorn the Strong!?How fare the folk by the Brothers'-Tongue?"?"Meat have we there, and drink and fire,?Nor lack all things that we desire.?But by the other Whitewater?Of Hallgerd many a tale we hear."?"Tales enow may my daughter make?If too many words be said for her sake."?"What saith thine heart to a word of mine,?That I deem thy daughter fair and fine??Fair and fine for a bride is she,?And I fain would have her home with me."?"Full many a word that at noon goes forth?Comes home at even little worth.?Now winter treadeth on autumn-tide,?So here till the spring shalt thou abide.?Then if thy mind be changed no whit.?And ye still will wed, see ye to it!?And on the first of summer days,?A wedded man, ye may go your ways.?Yet look, howso the thing will fall,?My hand shall meddle nought at all.?Lo, now the night and rain draweth up.?And within doors glimmer stoop and cup.?And hark, a little sound I know,?The laugh of Sn?biorn's fiddle-bow,?My sister's son, and a craftsman good,?When the red rain drives through the iron wood."?Hallbiorn laughed, and followed in,?And a merry feast there did begin.?Hallgerd's hands undid his weed,?Hallgerd's hands poured out the mead.?Her fingers at his breast he felt,?As her hair fell down about his belt.?Her fingers with the cup he took,?And o'er its rim at her did look.?Cold cup, warm hand, and fingers slim.?Before his eyes were waxen dim.?And if the feast were foul or fair,?He knew not, save that she was there.?He knew not if men laughed or wept,?While still 'twixt wall and da?s she stept.?Whether she went or stood that eve,?Not once his eyes her face did leave.?But Sn?biorn laughed and Sn?biorn sang,?And sweet his smitten fiddle rang.?And Hallgerd stood beside him there,?So many times over comes summer again?Nor ever once he turned to her,?What healing in summer if winter be vain?
Master Odd on the morrow spake,?So many times over comes summer again.?"Hearken, O guest, if ye be awake,"?What healing in summer if winter be vain??"Sure ye champions of the south?Speak many things from a silent mouth.?And thine, meseems, last night did pray?That ye might well be wed to-day.?The year's ingathering feast it is,?A goodly day to give thee bliss.?Come hither, daughter, fine and fair,?Here is a wooer from Whitewater.?Fast away hath he gotten fame,?And his father's name is e'en my name.?Will ye lay hand within his hand,?That blossoming fair our house may stand?"?She laid her hand within his hand;?White she was as the lily wand.?Low sang Sn?biorn's brand in its sheath,?And his lips were waxen grey as death.?"Sn?biorn, sing us a song of worth.?If your song must be silent from now henceforth.?Clear and loud his voice outrang,?And a song of worth at the wedding he sang.?"Sharp sword," he sang, "and death is sure."?So many times over comes summer again,?"But love doth over all endure."?What healing in summer if winter be vain?
Now winter cometh and weareth away,?So many times over comes summer again,?And glad is Hallbiorn many a day.?What healing in summer if winter be vain??Full soft he lay his love beside;?But dark are the days of winter-tide.?Dark are the days,