Part 3 (1/2)

THE TRIUMPH OF MAN

I plod and peer amid mean sounds and shapes, I hunt for dusty gain and dreary praise, And slowly pa.s.s the dismal grinning days, Monkeying each other like a line of apes.

What care? There was one hour amid all these When I had stripped off like a tawdry glove My starriest hopes and wants, for very love Of time and desolate eternities.

Yea, for one great hour's triumph, not in me Nor any hope of mine did I rejoice, But in a meadow game of girls and boys Some sunset in the centuries to be.

CYCLOPEAN

A mountainous and mystic brute No rein can curb, no arrow shoot, Upon whose domed deformed back I sweep the planets scorching track.

Old is the elf, and wise, men say, His hair grows green as ours grows grey; He mocks the stars with myriad hands.

High as that swinging forest stands.

But though in pigmy wanderings dull I scour the deserts of his skull, I never find the face, eyes, teeth.

Lowering or laughing underneath.

I met my foe in an empty dell, His face in the sun was naked h.e.l.l.

I thought, 'One silent, b.l.o.o.d.y blow.

No priest would curse, no crowd would know.'

Then cowered: a daisy, half concealed, Watched for the fame of that poor field; And in that flower and suddenly Earth opened its one eye on me.

JOSEPH

If the stars fell; night's nameless dreams Of bliss and blasphemy came true, If skies were green and snow were gold, And you loved me as I love you;

O long light hands and curled brown hair, And eyes where sits a naked soul; Dare I even then draw near and burn My fingers in the aureole?

Yes, in the one wise foolish hour G.o.d gives this strange strength to a man.

He can demand, though not deserve, Where ask he cannot, seize he can.

But once the blood's wild wedding o'er, Were not dread his, half dark desire, To see the Christ-child in the cot, The Virgin Mary by the fire?

MODERN ELFLAND

I Cut a staff in a churchyard copse, I clad myself in ragged things, I set a feather in my cap That fell out of an angel's wings.

I filled my wallet with white stones, I took three foxgloves in my hand, I slung my shoes across my back, And so I went to fairyland.

But Lo, within that ancient place Science had reared her iron crown, And the great cloud of steam went up That telleth where she takes a town.