Many Voices: Poems Part 5

What was the spell I wove for her, Her mad dear magic to undo?

The red rose dies, the white rose dies, The garden spits me forth with her On the old suburban road I knew.

My house is gone, and by my side A stranger stands with angry eyes And lips that swear I ruined her.

WINDFLOWERS

WHEN I was little and good I walked in the dappled wood Where light white windflowers grew, And hyacinths heavy and blue.

The windflowers fluttered light, Like b.u.t.terflies white and bright; The bluebells tremulous stood Deep in the heart of the wood.

I gathered the white and the blue, The wild wet woodland through, With hands too silly and small To clasp and carry them all.

Some dropped from my hands and died By the home-road's gra.s.sy side; And those that my fond hands pressed Died even before the rest.

AS IT IS

IF you and I Had wings to fly- Great wings like seagulls' wings- How would we soar Above the roar Of loud unneeded things!

We two would rise Through changing skies To blue unclouded s.p.a.ce, And undismayed And unafraid Meet the sun face to face.

But wings we know not; The feathers grow not To carry us so high; And low in the gloom Of a little room We weep and say good-bye.

BEFORE WINTER

THE wind is crying in the night, Like a lost child; The waves break wonderful and white And wild.

The drenched sea-poppies swoon along The drenched sea-wall, And there's an end of summer and of song- An end of all.

The fingers of the tortured boughs Gripped by the blast Clutch at the windows of your house Closed fast.

And the lost child of love, despair, Cries in the night, Remembering how once those windows were Open and bright.

THE VAULT AFTER SEDGMOOR

YOU need not call at the Inn; I have ordered my bed: Fair linen sheets therein And a tester of lead.

No musty fusty scents Such as inn chambers keep, But tapestried with content And hung with sleep.

My Inn door bears no bar Set up against fear.

The guests have journeyed far, They are glad to be here.

Where the damp arch curves up grey, Long, long shall we lie; Good King's men all are they, A King's man I.

Old Giles, in his stone asleep, Fought at Poictiers.

Piers Ralph and Roger keep The spoil of their fighting years.

I shall lie with my folk at last In a quiet bed; I shall dream of the sword held fast In a round-capped head.

Good tale of men all told My Inn affords; And their hands peace shall hold That once held swords.

And we who rode and ran On many a loyal quest Shall find the goal of man- A bed, and rest.

We shall not stand to the toast Of Love or King; We be all too tired to boast About anything.

We be dumb that did jest and sing; We rest who laboured and warred . . .

Shout once, shout once for the King.

Shout once for the sword!

SURRENDER

OH, the nights were dark and cold, When my love was gone.

And life was hard to hold When my love was gone.

I was wise, I never gave What they teach a girl to save, But I wished myself his slave When my love was gone.

I was all alone at night When my love came home.

Oh, what thought of wrong or right When my love came home?

I flung the door back wide And I pulled my love inside; There was no more shame or pride When my love came home.

VALUES

DID you deceive me? Did I trust A heart of fire to a heart of dust?

What matter? Since once the world was fair, And you gave me the rose of the world to wear.

That was the time to live for! Flowers, Sunshine and starshine and magic hours, Summer about me, Heaven above, And all seemed immortal, even Love.

Well, the mortal rose of your love was worth The pains of death and the pains of birth; And the thorns may be sharper than death-who knows?- That crowd round the stem of a deathless rose.

IN THE PEOPLE'S PARK