Eidola Part 5

Yea, like a bee, my heart hath fed on the honey of flowers And is made drunken, and full of strength, Full of the blood-red wine that is fierce and exultant.

But ye have turned your faces from song and from dreaming, Ye stirred in the winter and wakened, Your grain was garnered and threshed, yet a hunger filled you.

But the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of Earth had filled me, mine eyes had garnered Many-coloured may, and sweet, red apples, Through every sense had I drunk up her strength, and was sated.

What have ye, O wise ones? The corn ye reaped ye shall sow, Ye shall watch for rains and tempests; Only I hearing the hail on the roofs shall be gladdened.

Ye, being mockers, said: What profiteth him his singing?

Ye stored not the sweetness in your hearts, Ye are bent double with the burden of the past, fearful of Time.

Ye go forth into the furrows, but who shall come to the reaping?

Lo, now the golden grain falleth to earth!

Though ye be rich in this wise, yet are ye desolate.

I have gleaned in the hedgerows and wild glades of the forest, And that sweetness sufficeth to me: For sweet it is to feel the rain upon face and hair.

Surely ye have this day: but the wise sweetness in my heart Is the honey of all days which ye have not.

So shall my soul mock you, when dying, lo! ye are empty.

Even so when I hungered ye gave me bread, With hard words ye gave it me.

So give I this song unto you with hard words in mockery.

THE MOTHER

She hath such quiet eyes, That feed on all earth's wonders! She will sit Here in the orchard, and the bewildering beauty Of blossoming boughs lulls her as day grows late And level sunlight streameth through the tree-stems Lying as pale gold on the green fallows, and gilding the fleeces Of the slow-feeding sheep in the pastures.

While in her there stirs, A dream, a delight, a wonder her being knew not, Yet now remembers, wistfully, as a thing long lost, Sunken in dim, green, lucid sea-caves; And her desire goeth out from her, toward G.o.d, through the twilight, Lost, too, in the waters of unfathomable silence.

But the child, gazing upward, Sees the glory of the apple-blossom suddenly scattered, As a bird flies through the branches; And he reaches toward the soft, white fluttering petals That light upon his face, and laughs; and she Stoops over him quickly with sudden, hot, pa.s.sionate kisses, Smiling for all her tears.

MEDITATION

Even tho' I descend into the darkness of deep valleys, Yet have mine eyes beheld the light, And my heart treasureth it.

One, seeing thy face, loseth it not in dreams.

It shall abide with him through all the days; And his heart treasureth it.

Earth dieth in the darkness, but when dawn cometh Slowly the trees and hills grow into the light....

The heart of darkness cherisheth the dawn.

Who shall forget thee having seen thy face?

I have dreamed in my sleep of thee, as a man dreameth of a maiden.

Yea! the silence and darkness held thee as a dream.

Lo! I have seen thee. How shall I forget?

Thy beauty is treasured up in my heart.

THE HONEY GATHERER

I would drink of the honeyed wine that is heavy with poppies Until my trembling eyelids close, and only the murmur Of Life I should know: as the murmur of seas to one sleeping.

Glide now the soft, slim feet Of white dreams that are lovely and fugitive To whom thy sorrow is alien, my beloved!

Sweetly their feet stir the young gra.s.ses, they lie coiled In clear dark waters, or couched in the thickets, Their whiteness dappled with shadow, So might I forget again the sword of thy beauty And the desire that looked out from thine eyes, until mine heart leapt Forth to meet it, and was seared in the flame.

Life was as a net about me, and mine hands might not rend it, But I lay in fear among the toils, and afar Mine ears strained to catch the footsteps of the hunter.

Honey and poppies!

Until desire is drowned within me, until sleep Hath builded a world that is gateless, A world of beautiful luminous waters Through which the white dreams slip and swim, Pearled with fine spray, their bright hair floating, To whom love and desire and sorrow are foolishness And thy beauty a shadow, that the wind breaketh.

And thy body but dust for the wind's pasture And thy sorrow but a murmur of waters....

There are they, the exultant, the swan-throated; Through the night cometh the sound of their trumpets, Until mine heart is drunken with their wine.

Honey and poppies!

Until sleep is heavy upon me as a garment, Until the winged joys come.

But even then, O my beloved! is desire and a grieving; Even in the deep waters my soul remembereth How it hath been troubled by thy hands.

CROCUS SONG

FOR M. C.

The first flame, the first spear of the spring, A thing perfected of the dews and fire, Saffron in h.o.a.r-frost, brightened as with wine: Thou blossoming in the heart of me!

Ah, golden Is she whose love hath led me through the world A thing of dews and fire, of wine and saffron!

Gray willows veiling my beloved Bend above her, As though you would love her, Now clear water shadoweth her whiteness.

Ere brown bees go abroad murmuring, One saffron crocus hath made glad desire, To follow on swift feet slim feet of thine; Love wakening for joy of thee, Beholden As golden petals of one flower unfurled, Brimmed up with dews and fire, with wine and saffron.

Clear waters shadowing her whiteness Flow beside her, As tho' you would hide her, Jealous that mine eyes have my beloved.

THE IMAGE SELLER

I would bring them again unto you, The G.o.ds with broad and placid brows; And for you have I wrought their images Of carven ivory and gold; That your lips may be shaped to praise them, And your praises be laughter and all delights of the body, Dancing and exultation, a dance of torches In scarlet sandals, with burnished targes: A dance of boys by the wine-press Naked, with must-stained purple thighs: Of young girls by the river in saffron vesture Dancing to smitten strings and reed flutes.

Praise then mine images: Helios; Artemis, With a leash of straining hounds: and the Foam-born.