Poems by the Way Love Is Enough | Page 9

to be seen;?Toothed rocks down the side of the firth?on the east guard a weary wide lea,?And black slope the hillsides above,?striped adown with their desolate green:?And a peak rises up on the west?from the meeting of cloud and of sea,?Foursquare from base unto point?like the building of Gods that have been,?The last of that waste of the mountains?all cloud-wreathed and snow-flecked and grey,?And bright with the dawn that began?just now at the ending of day.
Ah! what came we forth for to see?that our hearts are so hot with desire??Is it enough for our rest,?the sight of this desolate strand,?And the mountain-waste voiceless as death?but for winds that may sleep not nor tire??Why do we long to wend forth?through the length and breadth of a land,?Dreadful with grinding of ice,?and record of scarce hidden fire,?But that there 'mid the grey grassy dales?sore scarred by the ruining streams?Lives the tale of the Northland of old?and the undying glory of dreams?
O land, as some cave by the sea?where the treasures of old have been laid,?The sword it may be of a king?whose name was the turning of fight:?Or the staff of some wise of the world?that many things made and unmade.?Or the ring of a woman maybe?whose woe is grown wealth and delight.?No wheat and no wine grows above it,?no orchard for blossom and shade;?The few ships that sail by its blackness?but deem it the mouth of a grave;?Yet sure when the world shall awaken,?this too shall be mighty to save.
Or rather, O land, if a marvel?it seemeth that men ever sought?Thy wastes for a field and a garden?fulfilled of all wonder and doubt,?And feasted amidst of the winter?when the fight of the year had been fought,?Whose plunder all gathered together?was little to babble about;?Cry aloud from thy wastes, O thou land,?"Not for this nor for that was I wrought?Amid waning of realms and of riches?and death of things worshipped and sure,?I abide here the spouse of a God,?and I made and I make and endure."
O Queen of the grief without knowledge,?of the courage that may not avail,?Of the longing that may not attain,?of the love that shall never forget,?More joy than the gladness of laughter?thy voice hath amidst of its wail:?More hope than of pleasure fulfilled?amidst of thy blindness is set;?More glorious than gaining of all?thine unfaltering hand that shall fail:?For what is the mark on thy brow?but the brand that thy Brynhild doth bear??Lone once, and loved and undone?by a love that no ages outwear.
Ah! when thy Balder comes back,?and bears from the heart of the Sun?Peace and the healing of pain,?and the wisdom that waiteth no more;?And the lilies are laid on thy brow?'mid the crown of the deeds thou hast done;?And the roses spring up by thy feet?that the rocks of the wilderness wore.?Ah! when thy Balder comes back?and we gather the gains he hath won,?Shall we not linger a little?to talk of thy sweetness of old,?Yea, turn back awhile to thy travail?whence the Gods stood aloof to behold?
THE RAVEN AND THE KING'S DAUGHTER
THE RAVEN
King's daughter sitting in tower so high,?Fair summer is on many a shield.?Why weepest thou as the clouds go by??Fair sing the swans 'twixt firth and field.?Why weepest thou in the window-seat?Till the tears run through thy fingers sweet?
THE KING'S DAUGHTER
I weep because I sit alone?Betwixt these walls of lime and stone.?Fair folk are in my father's hall,?But for me he built this guarded wall.?And here the gold on the green I sew?Nor tidings of my true-love know.
THE RAVEN
King's daughter, sitting above the sea,?I shall tell thee a tale shall gladden thee.?Yestreen I saw a ship go forth?When the wind blew merry from the north.?And by the tiller Steingrim sat,?And O, but my heart was glad thereat!?For 'twixt ashen plank and dark blue sea?His sword sang sweet of deeds to be.
THE KING'S DAUGHTER
O barren sea, thou bitter bird,?And a barren tale my ears have heard.
THE RAVEN
Thy father's men were hard thereby?In byrny bright and helmet high.
THE KING'S DAUGHTER
O worser waxeth thy story far,?For these drew upon me bolt and bar.?Fly south, O fowl, to the field of death?For nothing sweet thy grey neb saith.
THE RAVEN
O, there was Olaf the lily-rose,?As fair as any oak that grows.
THE KING'S DAUGHTER
O sweet bird, what did he then?Among the spears of my father's men?
THE RAVEN
'Twixt ashen plank and dark blue sea,?He sang: My true love waiteth me.
THE KING'S DAUGHTER
As well as this dull floor knows my feet,?I am not weary yet, my sweet.
THE RAVEN
He sang: As once her hand I had,?Her lips at last shall make me glad.
THE KING'S DAUGHTER
As once our fingers met, O love,?So shall our lips be fain thereof.
THE RAVEN
He sang: Come wrack and iron and flame,?For what shall breach the wall but fame?
THE KING'S DAUGHTER
Be swift to rise and set, O Sun,?Lest life 'twixt