Perpetual Light : a memorial Part 4

My body ached Through every bone.

A blast blew through me.

I drank black gall.

I saw he knew me.

I told him all.

"The heart I stare in Is black as night,"

He said, "but therein There burns a light.

White hands encore it To guard its grace, And strangely o'er it Bends a still face.

"Small light--great wonder!

Through all my hall You flash asunder The murky pall.

Walls grow unreal-- All h.e.l.l a wraith,-- Oh white, ideal Flame of her faith!"

"Here I surrender, White flame of trust!

Knave, strike some splendor From this your dust.

Oh gross, weak, dumb thing, Rise--dare a part!

For here--is something That breaks my heart!"

THE ADORATION

Now, like withdrawing music Where pillared aisles implore, You are a vanished choir, A soft-closed door.

Victorious voices blended Fade, and I kneel still-hearted.

Sudden my life is ended.

We have parted.

Lost in the vault's vast splendor My ghost goes rising, thinning.

Can heartbreak be an end, or Some strange beginning?

TALISMAN

Each cup shall be broken, Each tower shall fall, All drink be bitter, Bitter as gall, The dark heart go lonely-- Save for one tower, One cyathus only, One wine of power!

My love's white beauty Is this tower, The wine of her beauty My wine of power, The cup of her spirit Mine to drain With awful knowledge And trembling pain.

She only, she only Stands on the stars.

Her small hands grapple Heaven's black bars.

Only her deep love Pays the price Of a sight of the vistas Of paradise.

Each goblet may shatter, Each tower may fall, Low livid sunset Darken on all-- In her soul's high tower My love pours wine, And the glory and the power Of the stars are mine!

RECOGNITION

Like the twilight blowing over sunset water Under high holy hills purple-mirrored in a mere, Quietly and smiling, my dear love brought her Heart to my heart, and through the dusk drew near;

Drew to me near, drew my brows up to the tender Caress of her hands. And I lifted up my eyes To hers, and deep within them saw a silent splendor More still, more strange than the planets' in the skies.

Each gazed on each. O what is mortal seeing To the glory of that depth, to the glory of that height Through veils revealed, when all the gates of being Burst open to a torrent of such blinding light!

Yes, and here I stand warped by life's derision, A mountebank grimacing lest at last I weep.

What man could tell that I had ever seen a vision More wonderful than any on the steeps of sleep?

Days come, days go, as the clock ticks hours.

Years loom, years pa.s.s; the shadows rise....

Like the twilight breathing over holy flowers Once my love drew near. And I lifted up my eyes....

TRIBUTE

Remembering one woman I have seen And have known, Benignant eyes, n.o.bility of mien, A scarf from off a perfect shoulder blown, Solicitude, white ardor in a face, Motions like water under the moon's grace,-- I wonder much how men can be so base, So worse than stone.

Oh murmurings of music through the world, Ye women born To arduous things and angers, and upwhirled Like tongues of flame through smoke of the world's scorn, Crystalline lights, awful and fitful gleams Of reconciliation with our dreams, Through you alone the world's true spirit streams Sounding her silver horn.

All things I wish for you that height may hold, Who hold the race, Oh desperate runners on the track unrolled Over the highlands now, in the sun's face; O swift and free, hoverers on the verge Whence the impossible things we mocked emerge,-- O wings--wings--sliding the starry surge And veering on the chase!

The satyr and the centaur race below Deriding wings above.

Manful they meet and fight to overthrow All they are wearied of,-- Manful they build, demolish, drive, are driven,-- But you are free, who have more greatly striven, Yours is the light above their lightless heaven, For yours is Love!

THE SILVER HIND

Through the black forest You glance, you start,-- Through the black forest That is my heart!

Beautiful, silver-heeled, Swift as wind, Topping the brake Like a flying hind!

I have a bugle Of ivory The wizard of twilight Gave to me.

I hear it winding in my heart, In the black forest, where you start.

And I know, Like huntsmen in gold and green, That my thoughts spur past Where you have been, And, like hounds that have slipped the leash, They race,-- Bell-tongued brachets Upon your trace.

Through the black forest You reach, you run, Out of the shadow, Into the sun.

And the hunt behind Is lyric and loud Where horses and hounds And huntsmen crowd....

But you are gone-- Oh, you are gone Out to the blaze and glory of dawn!

Leaving the print of blood-red anemones In the mould, and echoes of ancient glees Shaking like silver leaves on my sombre trees!

ARISTEAS RELATES HIS YOUTH

(_Who, in his age, was reported a magician throughout all Greece, as it was said that his soul could leave his body at will._)

Early rose was the light As I sought the portico Whence her wings had fluttered in flight And with surge and flow Had risen to soar, and go Out, out over the sea, Dwindling white and soft and slow To a memory.

Oh, grief of all years to be!

Most miserable of men!

My throat ached with my tears, As a sword driven through my ears Was my anguish then.