Wessex Poems and Other Verses Part 9

Pa.s.sing heaths, and the House of Long Sieging, I neared the thin steeple That tops the fair fane of Poore's olden Episcopal see;

And, changing anew my onbearer, I traversed the downland Whereon the bleak hill-graves of Chieftains Bulge barren of tree;

And still sadly onward I followed That Highway the Icen, Which trails its pale riband down Wess.e.x O'er lynchet and lea.

Along through the Stour-bordered Forum, Where Legions had wayfared, And where the slow river upgla.s.ses Its green canopy,

And by Weatherbury Castle, and thencefrom Through Casterbridge held I Still on, to entomb her my vision Saw stretched pallidly.

No highwayman's trot blew the night-wind To me so life-weary, But only the creak of the gibbets Or waggoners' jee.

Triple-ramparted Maidon gloomed grayly Above me from southward, And north the hill-fortress of Eggar, And square Pummerie.

The Nine-Pillared Cromlech, the Bride-streams, The Axe, and the Otter I pa.s.sed, to the gate of the city Where Exe scents the sea;

Till, spent, in the graveacre pausing, I learnt 'twas not my Love To whom Mother Church had just murmured A last lullaby.

- "Then, where dwells the Canon's kinswoman, My friend of aforetime?"-- ('Twas hard to repress my heart-heavings And new ecstasy.)

"She wedded."--"Ah!"--"Wedded beneath her - She keeps the stage-hostel Ten miles hence, beside the great Highway - The famed Lions-Three.

"Her spouse was her lackey--no option 'Twixt wedlock and worse things; A lapse over-sad for a lady Of her pedigree!"

I shuddered, said nothing, and wandered To shades of green laurel: Too ghastly had grown those first tidings So brightsome of blee!

For, on my ride hither, I'd halted Awhile at the Lions, And her--her whose name had once opened My heart as a key--

I'd looked on, unknowing, and witnessed Her jests with the tapsters, Her liquor-fired face, her thick accents In naming her fee.

"O G.o.d, why this seeming derision!"

I cried in my anguish: "O once Loved, O fair Unforgotten - That Thing--meant it thee!

"Inurned and at peace, lost but sainted, Were grief I could compa.s.s; Depraved--'tis for Christ's poor dependent A cruel decree!"

I backed on the Highway; but pa.s.sed not The hostel. Within there Too mocking to Love's re-expression Was Time's repartee!

Uptracking where Legions had wayfared, By cromlechs unstoried, And lynchets, and sepultured Chieftains, In self-colloquy,

A feeling stirred in me and strengthened That SHE was not my Love, But she of the garth, who lay rapt in Her long reverie.

And thence till to-day I persuade me That this was the true one; That Death stole intact her young dearness And innocency.

Frail-witted, illuded they call me; I may be. 'Tis better To dream than to own the debas.e.m.e.nt Of sweet Cicely.

Moreover I rate it unseemly To hold that kind Heaven Could work such device--to her ruin And my misery.

So, lest I disturb my choice vision, I shun the West Highway, Even now, when the knaps ring with rhythms From blackbird and bee;

And feel that with slumber half-conscious She rests in the church-hay, Her spirit unsoiled as in youth-time When lovers were we.

HER IMMORTALITY

Upon a noon I pilgrimed through A pasture, mile by mile, Unto the place where I last saw My dead Love's living smile.

And sorrowing I lay me down Upon the heated sod: It seemed as if my body pressed The very ground she trod.

I lay, and thought; and in a trance She came and stood me by-- The same, even to the marvellous ray That used to light her eye.

"You draw me, and I come to you, My faithful one," she said, In voice that had the moving tone It bore ere breath had fled.

She said: "'Tis seven years since I died: Few now remember me; My husband clasps another bride; My children's love has she.

"My brethren, sisters, and my friends Care not to meet my sprite: Who prized me most I did not know Till I pa.s.sed down from sight."

I said: "My days are lonely here; I need thy smile alway: I'll use this night my ball or blade, And join thee ere the day."

A tremor stirred her tender lips, Which parted to dissuade: "That cannot be, O friend," she cried; "Think, I am but a Shade!

"A Shade but in its mindful ones Has immortality; By living, me you keep alive, By dying you slay me.

"In you resides my single power Of sweet continuance here; On your fidelity I count Through many a coming year."

- I started through me at her plight, So suddenly confessed: Dismissing late distaste for life, I craved its bleak unrest.

"I will not die, my One of all! - To lengthen out thy days I'll guard me from minutest harms That may invest my ways!"

She smiled and went. Since then she comes Oft when her birth-moon climbs, Or at the seasons' ingresses Or anniversary times;

But grows my grief. When I surcease, Through whom alone lives she, Ceases my Love, her words, her ways, Never again to be!

THE IVY-WIFE

I longed to love a full-boughed beech And be as high as he: I stretched an arm within his reach, And signalled unity.

But with his drip he forced a breach, And tried to poison me.

I gave the grasp of partnership To one of other race-- A plane: he barked him strip by strip From upper bough to base; And me therewith; for gone my grip, My arms could not enlace.

In new affection next I strove To coll an ash I saw, And he in trust received my love; Till with my soft green claw I cramped and bound him as I wove . . .

Such was my love: ha-ha!