Eight Harvard Poets Part 5

POPPY SONG

I

Footsteps soft as fall the rose's Petals on a dewy lawn, Shaken when the wind uncloses Golden gateways for the dawn;

Laughter light as is the swallows'

Chatter in the evening sky, Wafted upward from the hollows Where the limpid waters lie;

Weeping faint as is the willow's By the margin of the lake, Trembling into tiny billows That the silent teardrops make;

Phantoms fitful and uncertain As the pearly autumn rain, Sweeping on in cloudy curtain Down the wide way of the plain.

II

Oh, unhappy now to waken When the dream had scarce begun!

Out of gentle twilight taken Into realms of burning sun:

Oh, unhappy now to find me Lost 'neath heavens hot with noon; All that fairy land behind me; Poppy fields and rising moon!

Drawbridge and portcullis screeching, Bugles braying soon and late; Who are they that come beseeching, Calling at my castle gate?

Drive them hence, for they enc.u.mber Days and nights with waking pain; Tell them that I lie and slumber Under poppies, wet with rain.

Who art thou that bendest praying Over me with clasped palms; Dim through surging darkness, saying Words of prayer and murmured psalms?

Who art thou that kneelest weeping By the border of my bed?

Cease thou, for I was but sleeping-- Dreaming, only, and not dead!

III

Phantoms flitting and uncertain Sweeping round the endless plain; Autumn twilight's dusky curtain, Drowsy poppies, drenched with rain.

LOVE DREAM

Strange that on warp and woof of dreams Fancy should weave the web of truth, And yet this fairy figment seems Part of a half-forgotten youth Stolen from days I thought were sped Out of the world beyond the dead.

Smiled she not when at the edge Of evening we walked alone Plucking spring's blossoms from the hedge That she might wear them as her own, Or do I hold a hopeless tryst Here with a shadow, made of mist?

Now as will crumpled rose leaves, pent By fingers we can never know, Rouse with the richness of their scent, Thoughts of a summer long ago, All the expanse of land and sea Speaks with a thousand tongues to me.

'Twas from coast we watched slow form, Out of the frosty ocean's breath, The blue-gray ramparts of the storm Flashing with signal fires of death, Whilst with a murmur, far and wide, Swept in the low wind with the tide.

Then, at last, when lips were dumb With fear of parting, did we wend Along the meadow lanes that come From nowhere, and in nothing end, And, smiling, kiss, though ill at ease, Under the rustling orchard trees.

But will the promise given keep?

Can the heart love still when 'tis dead?

What if the spirit, waked from sleep, Never recall the words it said?

Dwell in a dreamland, or else be Lost in life's eternity?

THE ISLAND OF DEATH

There is an island in a silent sea That rises--four, rough, rugged walls--on high Above the ocean in calm majesty.

A mountain of despair against the sky!

About its summit soaring seagulls fly, Or rest them in its lofty cypress trees, And greet the black barge bearing those who die Upon our earth to everlasting ease And pleasant lives that know not man's eternities.

White halls and palaces their dwellings stand; These shadowy souls are all unknown to graves And live, faint phantoms in a fairy land Of dreams and idleness. They hear the waves Sing, and the winds come calling from the caves Of night beyond the ocean, and the cry Of screaming gulls; stare at each ship that braves This wilderness of waters, and glides by In awe-struck silence, ever fearing to draw nigh.

The sun, descending, sows the sea with gold, And showers splendour through the fading skies, Whilst from the murky waters they behold The moon, a shape of silver, slow arise.

And every evening, as the daylight dies, There comes that bark of death, whose white sail seems An angel in the dark. A while it lies Below them in the harbour, then there gleams A new shape on the stairs up to that land of dreams.

FROM THE ARABIAN NIGHTS

Then, as the whispering evening crossed the sea, Sweeping the waters with her veil of grey, Wave-worn and weary of the ocean, we Beheld the enchanted island far away-- Half hidden in the twilight low it lay On the horizon like a lazy cloud, Its coasts encompa.s.sed with long lines of spray.

We spread the sails and swiftly the ship plowed The purple path ahead until the surf sang loud.

Between the cliffs, by the faint stars, we found A gloomy gate, and boldly sailing in, Watched the dark mountains slowly closing round, And heard faint echoes of the ocean's din Melting like spirits' voices, fleet and thin; When of a sudden, as we faltered nigh, Out of the hills where only night had been A mist of minarets and towers high, Rose like the yellow light of morning in the sky.

Gazing we drifted toward that golden bloom Of palaces whose light glowed on our sail; There we floated wrapped in wild perfume; Then music burst upon us in a gale; Grave, deep-toned trumpets and the lyre's long wail, And farther, the faint sound of singing men.

We grasped our oars--but slowly, as will pale The morning star, the vision faded, then The empty dark swept in and all was night again!

THRENODY

Have you forgotten me, O my beloved?

Have you deserted me Now in the autumn?

See where the swallows fly South o'er the ocean: Soon will the winter wind Sweep the aegean.