ENDYMION
She came upon me in the middle day, Bowed o'er the waters of a mountain mere; Where dimly mirrored in the ripple's play I saw some fair thing near.
I saw the waters lapping round her feet, The widening rings spread, follow out and die, I saw the mirror and the mirrored meet, And heard a voice hard by.
So I, Endymion, who lay bathing there, Half-hidden in the coolness of the lake, Looked up and swept away my long wild hair, And knew a goddess spake;
A form white limbed and peerless, far above The very fairest of imagined things, The perfect vision of a dream of love Stepped through the water-rings;
That breathed soft names and drew me to her arms, White arms and clinging in a long caress, And won me willing, by the magic charms Of perfect loveliness:
Till on my breast a throbbing bosom lies; The dim hills waver and the dark woods roll, For all the longing of two glorious eyes Takes hold upon my soul.
Then only when the sudden darkness fell Upon the silver of the mountain mere, And through the pine trees of the slanting dell, The moon rose cold and clear,
I seemed alone upon the dewy shore,-- For she had left me as she came unwarned;-- And fell from sighing into sleep, before The summer morning dawned.
What wonder now I find no maiden fair Who dwells between these mountains and the seas?
And go unloving and unloved, or ere I turn to such as these.
What wonder if the light of those wide eyes Makes other eyes seem cold; for that loud laughter Lost love has nothing left but sighs For all the time hereafter.
Yet better so, far better, no regret Can touch my heart for that sweet memory's sake, But only sighing for the sun that set Behind the summer lake.
But yestermorn it was, the second night Comes softly stealing over yon blue steep; The world grows silent in the fading light, There is no joy but sleep.
--I cannot bear her fair face in the skies Beyond the drowsy waving of the trees,-- A soft breeze kisses round my heavy eyes, A restful summer breeze.
What means this dreamless apathy of sleep?
--A mist steals over the dim lake, the shore, Until my closing eyes forget to weep-- Oh, let me wake no more!
DISILLUSION
Ah! what would youth be doing To hoist his crimson sails, To leave the wood-doves cooing, The song of nightingales; To leave this woodland quiet For murmuring winds at strife, For waves that foam and riot About the seas of life?
From still bays silver sanded Wild currents hasten down, To rocks where ships are stranded And eddies where men drown.
Far out, by hills surrounded, Is the golden haven gate, And all beyond unbounded Are shoreless seas of fate.
They steer for those far highlands Across the summer tide, And dream of fairy islands Upon the further side.
They only see the sunlight, The flashing of gold bars, But the other side is moonlight And glimmer of pale stars.
They will not heed the warning Blown back on every wind, For hope is born with morning, The secret is behind.
Whirled through in wild confusion They pass the narrow strait, To the sea of disillusion That lies beyond the gate.
REQUIESCAT
He had the poet's eyes, --Sing to him sleeping,-- Sweet grace of low replies, --Why are we weeping?
He had the gentle ways, --Fair dreams befall him!-- Beauty through all his days, --Then why recall him?--
That which in him was fair Still shall be ours: Yet, yet my heart lies there Under the flowers.
1881.
IN CHARTRES CATHEDRAL
Through yonder windows stained and old Four level rays of red and gold Strike down the twilight dim, Four lifted heads are aureoled Of the sculptured cherubim, And soft like sounds on faint winds blown Of voices dying far away, The organ's dreamy undertone, The murmur while they pray; And I sit here alone alone And have no word to say; Cling closer shadows, darker yet, And heart be happy to forget.
And now, the mystic silence--and they kneel A young priest lifts a star of gold,-- And then the sudden organ peal!
Ave and Ave! and the music rolled Along the carven wonder of the choir Thrilled canopy and spire, Up till the echoes mingled with the song; And now a boy's flute note that rings Shrill sweet and long, Ave and Ave, louder and more loud Rises the strain he sings, Upon the angel's wings!
Right up to God!
And you that sit there in the lowliest place, With lips that hardly dare to move, You with the old sad furrowed face Dream on your dream of love!
For you, glide down the music's swell The folding arms of peace, For me wild thoughts, I dare not tell Desires that never cease.
For you the calm, the angel's breast Whose dim foreknowledge is at rest; For me the beat of broken wings The old unanswered questionings.
HIC JACET
Did you play here child The whole spring through And smiled and smiled And never knew?-- Where the shade is cool And the grass grows deep, One that was beautiful Lies in his sleep.
Ah no child, never Will he arise, The sleep was for ever That closed his eyes.
And his bed is strewn Deep underground, He was tired so soon, And now sleeps sound.
When the first birds sing We can hear them, dear, And in early spring There are snowdrops here.
For the flowers love him That lies below, And ever above him The daisies grow.
"Shall we look down deep Where he hides away?
Shall we find him asleep?"
Yes child, some day.
But his palace gate Is so hard to see, We two must wait For the angel's key.