Poems of Paul Verlaine | Page 6

Strange how a woman's light footfall?Re-echoes through the brains of grief-worn men!
Noon strikes. I bade them sprinkle in the room.?Sleep on! Hope shines--a pebble in the gloom.?--When shall the Autumn rose re-blossom,--when?
SLEEP, DARKSOME, DEEP
Sleep, darksome, deep,
Doth on me fall:?Vain hopes all, sleep,
Sleep, yearnings all!
Lo, I grow blind!
Lo, right and wrong?Fade to my mind....
O sorry song!
A cradle, I,
Rocked in a grave:?Speak low, pass by,
Silence I crave!
[Illustration: Le Ciel et Les Toits.]
THE SKY-BLUE SMILES ABOVE THE ROOF
The sky-blue smiles above the roof
Its tenderest;?A green tree rears above the roof
Its waving crest.
The church-bell in the windless sky
Peaceably rings,?A skylark soaring in the sky
Endlessly sings.
My God, my God, all life is there,
Simple and sweet;?The soothing bee-hive murmur there
Comes from the street!
What have you done, O you that weep
In the glad sun,--?Say, with your youth, you man that weep,
What have you done?
IT IS YOU
It is you, it is you, poor better thoughts!?The needful hope, shame for the ancient blots,?Heart's gentleness with mind's severity,?And vigilance, and calm, and constancy,?And all!--But slow as yet, though well awake;?Though sturdy, shy; scarce able yet to break?The spell of stifling night and heavy dreams.?One comes after the other, and each seems?Uncouther, and all fear the moonlight cold.?"Thus, sheep when first they issue from the fold,?Come,--one, then two, then three. The rest delay,?With lowered heads, in stupid, wondering way,?Waiting to do as does the one that leads.?He stops, they stop in turn, and lay their heads?Across his back, simply, not knowing why."*?Your shepherd, O my fair flock, is not I,--?It is a better, better far, who knows?The reasons, He that so long kept you close,?But timely with His own hand set you free.?Him follow,--light His staff. And I shall be,?Beneath his voice still raised to comfort you,?I shall be, I, His faithful dog, and true.
? Dante, Purgatorio.
'TIS THE FEAST OF CORN
'Tis the feast of corn, 'tis the feast of bread,
On the dear scene returned to, witnessed again!?So white is the light o'er the reapers shed
Their shadows fall pink on the level grain.
The stalked gold drops to the whistling flight
Of the scythes, whose lightning dives deep, leaps clear; The plain, labor-strewn to the confines of sight,
Changes face at each instant, gay and severe.
All pants, all is effort and toil 'neath the sun,
The stolid old sun, tranquil ripener of wheat,?Who works o'er our haste imperturbably on
To swell the green grape yon, turning it sweet.
Work on, faithful sun, for the bread and the wine,
Feed man with the milk of the earth, and bestow?The frank glass wherein unconcern laughs divine,--
Ye harvesters, vintagers, work on, aglow!
For from the flour's fairest, and from the vine's best,
Fruit of man's strength spread to earth's uttermost,?God gathers and reaps, to His purposes blest,
The Flesh and the Blood for the chalice and host!
Jadis et Nagu��re
Jadis
PROLOGUE
Off, be off, now, graceless pack:?Get you gone, lost children mine:?Your release is earned in fine:?The Chimaera lends her back.
Huddling on her, go, God-sped,?As a dream-horde crowds and cowers?Mid the shadowy curtain-flowers?Round a sick man's haunted bed.
Hold! My hand, unfit before,?Feeble still, but feverless,?And which palpitates no more?Save with a desire to bless,
Blesses you, O little flies?Of my black suns and white nights.?Spread your rustling wings, arise,?Little griefs, little delights,
Hopes, despairs, dreams foul and fair,?All!--renounced since yesterday?By my heart that quests elsewhere....?Ite, aegri somnia!
LANGUEUR
I am the Empire in the last of its decline,?That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,--the while Composing indolent acrostics, in a style?Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line.
The solitary soul is heart-sick with a vile?Ennui. Down yon, they say, War's torches bloody shine.?Alas, to be so faint of will, one must resign?The chance of brave adventure in the splendid file,--
Of death, perchance! Alas, so lagging in desire!?Ah, all is drunk! Bathyllus, hast done laughing, pray??Ah, all is drunk,--all eaten! Nothing more to say!
Alone, a vapid verse one tosses in the fire;?Alone, a somewhat thievish slave neglecting one;?Alone, a vague disgust of all beneath the sun!
Nagu��re
[Illustration: "Cr��puscule du Soir Mystique."]
PROLOGUE
Glimm'ring twilight things are these,?Visions of the end of night.?Truth, thou lightest them, I wis,?Only with a distant light,
Whitening through the hated shade?In such grudging dim degrees,?One must doubt if they be made?By the moon among the trees,
Or if these uncertain ghosts?Shall take body bye and bye,?And uniting with the hosts?Tented by the azure sky,
Framed by Nature's setting meet,--?Offer up in one accord?From the heart's ecstatic heat,?Incense to the living Lord!
Parall��lement
IMPRESSION FAUSSE
Dame mouse patters?Black against the shadow grey;
Dame mouse patters?Grey against the black.
Hear the bed-time bell!?Sleep forthwith, good prisoners;
Hear the bed-time bell!?You must go to sleep.
No disturbing dream!?Think of nothing but your loves:
No disturbing dream,?Of the fair ones think!
Moonlight clear and bright!?Some one of the neighbors snores;
Moonlight clear and bright--?He is troublesome.
Comes a pitchy cloud?Creeping o'er the faded moon;
Comes a pitchy cloud--?See the grey dawn creep!
Dame mouse patters?Pink across an azure ray;
Dame mouse patters. . . .?Sluggards, up! 'tis day!
Po��mes Saturniens
PROLOGUE
The Sages of old