Part 6 (2/2)

The curtain falls, the play is played: The Beggar packs beside the Beau; The Monarch troops, and troops the Maid; The Thunder huddles with the Snow.

Where are the revellers high and low?

The clas.h.i.+ng swords? The lover's call?

The dancers gleaming row on row?

Into the night go one and all.

Envoy

Prince, in one common overthrow The Hero tumbles with the Thrall: As dust that drives, as straws that blow, Into the night go one and all.

BALLADE MADE IN THE HOT WEATHER--To C. M.

Fountains that frisk and sprinkle The moss they overspill; Pools that the breezes crinkle; The wheel beside the mill, With its wet, weedy frill; Wind-shadows in the wheat; A water-cart in the street; The fringe of foam that girds An islet's ferneries; A green sky's minor thirds - To live, I think of these!

Of ice and gla.s.s the tinkle, Pellucid, silver-shrill; Peaches without a wrinkle; Cherries and snow at will, From china bowls that fill The senses with a sweet Incuriousness of heat; A melon's dripping sherds; Cream-clotted strawberries; Dusk dairies set with curds - To live, I think of these!

Vale-lily and periwinkle; Wet stone-crop on the sill; The look of leaves a-twinkle With windlets clear and still; The feel of a forest rill That wimples fresh and fleet About one's naked feet; The muzzles of drinking herds; Lush flags and bulrushes; The chirp of rain-bound birds - To live, I think of these!

Envoy

Dark aisles, new packs of cards, Mermaidens' tails, cool swards, Dawn dews and starlit seas, White marbles, whiter words - To live, I think of these!

BALLADE OF TRUISMS

Gold or silver, every day, Dies to gray.

There are knots in every skein.

Hours of work and hours of play Fade away Into one immense Inane.

Shadow and substance, chaff and grain, Are as vain As the foam or as the spray.

Life goes crooning, faint and fain, One refrain: 'If it could be always May!'

Though the earth be green and gay, Though, they say, Man the cup of heaven may drain; Though, his little world to sway, He display h.o.a.rd on h.o.a.rd of pith and brain: Autumn brings a mist and rain That constrain

Him and his to know decay, Where undimmed the lights that wane Would remain, If it could be always May.

YEA, alas, must turn to NAY, Flesh to clay.

Chance and Time are ever twain.

Men may scoff, and men may pray, But they pay Every pleasure with a pain.

Life may soar, and Fortune deign To explain Where her prizes hide and stay; But we lack the l.u.s.ty train We should gain, If it could be always May.

Envoy

Time, the pedagogue, his cane Might retain, But his charges all would stray Truanting in every lane - Jack with Jane - If it could be always May.

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