Part 24 (1/2)

Euterpe

Child of Light, the bright, the bird-like! wilt thou float and float to me, Facing winds and sleets and waters, flying glimpses of the sea?

Down amongst the hills of tempest, where the elves of tumult roam-- Blown wet shadows of the summits, dim sonorous sprites of foam?

Here and here my days are wasted, shorn of leaf and stript of fruit: Vexed because of speech half spoken, maiden with the marvellous lute!

Vexed because of songs half-shapen, smit with fire and mixed with pain: Part of thee, and part of Sorrow, like a sunset pale with rain.

Child of Light, the bright, the bird-like! wilt thou float and float to me Facing winds and sleets and waters, flying glimpses of the sea?

All night long, in fluent pauses, falling far, but full, but fine, Faultless friend of flowers and fountains, do I hear that voice of thine-- All night long, amidst the burden of the lordly storm, that sings High above the tumbled forelands, fleet and fierce with thunderings!

Then and then, my love, Euterpe, lips of life replete with dreams Murmur for thy sweet, sharp fragments dying down Lethean streams: Murmur for thy mouth's marred music, splendid hints that burn and break, Heavy with excess of beauty: murmur for thy music's sake.

All night long, in fluent pauses, falling far, but full, but fine, Faultless friend of flowers and fountains, do I hear that voice of thine.

In the yellow flame of evening sound of thee doth come and go Through the noises of the river, and the drifting of the snow: In the yellow flame of evening--at the setting of the day-- Sound that lightens, falls and lightens, flickers, faints and fades away.

I am famished of thy silence--broken for the tender note Caught with its surpa.s.sing pa.s.sion--caught and strangled in thy throat!

We have nought to help thy trouble--nought for that which lieth mute On the harpstring and the lutestring and the spirit of the lute.

In the yellow flame of evening sound of thee doth come and go Through the noises of the river, and the drifting of the snow.

Daughter of the dead red summers! Men that laugh and men that weep Call thee Music--shall I follow, choose their name, and turn and sleep?

What thou art, behold, I know not; but thy honey slakes and slays Half the want which whitens manhood in the stress of alien days!

Even as a wondrous woman, struck with love and great desire, Hast thou been to me, Euterpe! half of tears and half of fire.

But thy joy is swift and fitful; and a subtle sense of pain Sighs through thy melodious breathing, takes the rapture from thy strain, Daughter of the dead red summers! Men that laugh and men that weep Call thee Music--shall I follow, choose their name, and turn and sleep?

Ellen Ray

A quiet song for Ellen-- The patient Ellen Ray, A dreamer in the nightfall, A watcher in the day.

The wedded of the sailor Who keeps so far away: A shadow on his forehead For patient Ellen Ray.

When autumn winds were driving Across the chafing bay, He said the words of anger That wasted Ellen Ray: He said the words of anger And went his bitter way: Her dower was the darkness-- The patient Ellen Ray.

Your comfort is a phantom, My patient Ellen Ray; You house it in the night-time, It fronts you in the day; And when the moon is very low And when the lights are grey, You sit and hug a sorry hope, My patient Ellen Ray!

You sit and hug a sorry hope-- Yet who will dare to say, The sweetness of October Is not for Ellen Ray?

The bearer of a burden Must rest at fall of day; And you have borne a heavy one, My patient Ellen Ray.

At Dusk

At dusk, like flowers that shun the day, Shy thoughts from dim recesses break, And plead for words I dare not say For your sweet sake.