Chapter 2

The birds are all a-building, They say the world's a-flower, And still I linger lonely Within a barren bower.

I weave a web of fancies Of tears and darkness spun. How shall I sing of sunlight Who never saw the sun?

I hear the pipes a-blowing, But yet I may not dance, I know that Love is passing, I cannot catch his glance.

And if his voice should call me And I with groping dim Should reach his place of calling And stretch my arms to him,

The wind would blow between my hands For Joy that I shall miss, The rain would fall upon my mouth That his will never kiss.

Love Me

Brown-thrush singing all day long In the leaves above me, Take my love this little song, "Love me, love me, love me!"

When he harkens what you say, Bid him, lest he miss me, Leave his work or leave his play, And kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!

The Song for Colin

I sang a song at dusking time Beneath the evening star, And Terence left his latest rhyme To answer from afar.

Pierrot laid down his lute to weep, And sighed, "She sings for me," But Colin slept a careless sleep Beneath an apple tree.

Four Winds

"Four winds blowing thro' the sky, You have seen poor maidens die, Tell me then what I shall do That my lover may be true." Said the wind from out the south, "Lay no kiss upon his mouth," And the wind from out the west, "Wound the heart within his breast," And the wind from out the east, "Send him empty from the feast," And the wind from out the north, "In the tempest thrust him forth, When thou art more cruel than he, Then will Love be kind to thee."

Roundel

If he could know my songs are all for him, At silver dawn or in the evening glow, Would he not smile and think it but a whim, If he could know?

Or would his heart rejoice and overflow, As happy brooks that break their icy rim When April's horns along the hillsides blow?

I may not speak till Eros' torch is dim, The god is bitter and will have it so; And yet to-night our fate would seem less grim If he could know.

Dew

I dream that he is mine, I dream that he is true, And all his words I keep As rose-leaves hold the dew.

O little thirsty rose, O little heart beware, Lest you should hope to hold A hundred roses' share.

A Maiden

Oh if I were the velvet rose Upon the red rose vine, I'd climb to touch his window And make his casement fine.

And if I were the little bird That twitters on the tree, All day I'd sing my love for him Till he should harken me.

But since I am a maiden I go with downcast eyes, And he will never hear the songs That he has turned to sighs.

And since I am a maiden My love will never know That I could kiss him with a mouth More red than roses blow.

"I Love You"

When April bends above me And finds me fast asleep, Dust need not keep the secret A live heart died to keep.

When April tells the thrushes, The meadow-larks will know, And pipe the three words lightly To all the winds that blow.

Above his roof the swallows, In notes like far-blown rain, Will tell the little sparrow Beside his window-pane.

O sparrow, little sparrow, When I am fast asleep, Then tell my love the secret That I have died to keep.

But Not to Me

The April night is still and sweet With flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me.

My peace is hidden in his breast Where I shall never be, Love comes to-night to all the rest, But not to me.

Hidden Love

I hid the love within my heart, And lit the laughter in my eyes, That when we meet he may not know My love that never dies.

But sometimes when he dreams at night Of fragrant forests green and dim, It may be that my love crept out And brought the dream to him.

And sometimes when his heart is sick And suddenly grows well again, It may be that my love was there To free his life of pain.

Snow Song

Fairy snow, fairy snow, Blowing, blowing everywhere, Would that I Too, could fly Lightly, lightly through the air.

Like a wee, crystal star I should drift, I should blow Near, more near, To my dear Where he comes through the snow.

I should fly to my love Like a flake in the storm, I should die, I should die, On his lips that are warm.

Youth and the Pilgrim

Gray pilgrim, you have journeyed far, I pray you tell to me Is there a land where Love is not, By shore of any sea?

For I am weary of the god, And I would flee from him Tho' I must take a ship and go Beyond the ocean's rim.

"I know a port where Love is not, The ship is in your hand, Then plunge your sword within your breast And you will reach the land."

The Wanderer

I saw the sunset-colored sands, The Nile like flowing fire between, Where Rameses stares forth serene, And Ammon's heavy temple stands.

I saw the rocks where long ago, Above the sea that cries and breaks, Bright Perseus with Medusa's snakes Set free the maiden white like snow.

And many skies have covered me, And many winds have blown me forth, And I have loved the green bright north, And I have loved the cold sweet sea.

But what to me are north and south, And what the lure of many lands, Since you have leaned to catch my hands And lay a kiss upon my mouth.

I Would Live in Your Love

I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea, Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes; I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me, I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul as it leads.

May

The wind is tossing the lilacs, The new leaves laugh in the sun, And the petals fall on the orchard wall, But for me the spring is done.

Beneath the apple blossoms I go a wintry way, For love that smiled in April Is false to me in May.

Rispetto

Was that his step that sounded on the stair? Was that his knock I heard upon the door? I grow so tired I almost cease to care, And yet I would that he might come once more.

It was the wind I heard, that mocks at me, The bitter wind that is more cruel than he; It was the wind that knocked upon the door, But he will never knock nor enter more.

Less than the Cloud to the Wind

Less than the cloud to the wind, Less than the foam to the sea, Less than the rose to the storm Am I to thee.

More than the star to the night, More than the rain to the lea, More than heaven to earth Art thou to me.

Buried Love

I shall bury my weary Love Beneath a tree, In the forest tall and black Where none can see.

I shall put no flowers at his head, Nor stone at his feet, For the mouth I loved so much Was bittersweet.

I shall go no more to his grave, For the woods are cold. I shall gather as much of joy As my hands can hold.

I shall stay all day in the sun Where the wide winds blow, But oh, I shall weep at night When none will know.

Song

O woe is me, my heart is sad, For I should never know If Love came by like any lad, Without his silver bow.

Or if he left his arrows sharp And came a minstrel weary, I'd never tell him by his harp Nor know him for my dearie.

"O go your ways and have no fear, For tho' Love passes by, He'll come a hundred times, my dear, Before your turn to die."

Pierrot

Pierrot stands in the garden Beneath a waning moon, And on his lute he fashions A little silver tune.

Pierrot plays in the garden, He thinks he plays for me, But I am quite forgotten Under the cherry tree.

Pierrot plays in the garden, And all the roses know That Pierrot loves his music, But I love Pierrot.

At Night

Love said, "Wake still and think of me," Sleep, "Close your eyes till break of day," But Dreams came by and smilingly Gave both to Love and Sleep their way.

Song

When Love comes singing to his heart That would not wake for me, I think that I shall know his joy By my own ecstasy.

And tho' the sea were all between, The time their hands shall meet, My heart will know his happiness, So wildly it will beat.

And when he bends above her mouth, Rejoicing for his sake, My soul will sing a little song, But oh, my heart will break.

Love in Autumn

I sought among the drifting leaves, The golden leaves that once were green, To see if Love were hiding there And peeping out between.

For thro' the silver showers of May And thro' the summer's heavy heat, In vain I sought his golden head And light, fast-flying feet.

Perhaps when all the world is bare And cruel winter holds the land, The Love that finds no place to hide Will run and catch my hand.

I shall not care to have him then, I shall be bitter and a-cold-- It grows too late for frolicking When all the world is old.

Then little hiding Love, come forth, Come forth before the autumn goes, And let us seek thro' ruined paths The garden's last red rose.

The Kiss

I hoped that he would love me, And he has kissed my mouth, But I am like a stricken bird That cannot reach the south.

For tho' I know he loves me, To-night my heart is sad; His kiss was not so wonderful As all the dreams I had.

November

The world is tired, the year is old, The little leaves are glad to die, The wind goes shivering with cold Among the rushes dry.

Our love is dying like the grass, And we who kissed grow coldly kind, Half glad to see our poor love pass Like leaves along the wind.

A Song of the Princess

The princess has her lovers, A score of knights has she, And each can sing a madrigal, And praise her gracefully.

But Love that is so bitter Hath put within her heart A longing for the scornful knight Who silent stands apart.

And tho' the others praise and plead, She maketh no reply, Yet for a single word from him, I ween that she would die.

The Wind

A wind is blowing over my soul, I hear it cry the whole night thro'-- Is there no peace for me on earth Except with you?

Alas, the wind has made me wise, Over my naked soul it blew,-- There is no peace for me on earth Even with you.

A Winter Night

My window-pane is starred with frost, The world is bitter cold to-night, The moon is cruel and the wind Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones, The beggars pacing to and fro. God pity all the poor to-night Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June, Warm and close-curtained fold on fold, But somewhere, like a homeless child, My heart is crying in the cold.

The Metropolitan Tower

We walked together in the dusk To watch the tower grow dimly white, And saw it lift against the sky Its flower of amber light.

You talked of half a hundred things, I kept each little word you said; And when at last the hour was full, I saw the light turn red.

You did not know the time had come, You did not see the sudden flower, Nor know that in my heart Love's birth Was reckoned from that hour.

Gramercy Park

For W. P.

The little park was filled with peace, The walks were carpeted with snow, But every iron gate was locked. Lest if we entered, peace would go.

We circled it a dozen times, The wind was blowing from the sea, I only felt your restless eyes Whose love was like a cloak for me.

Oh heavy gates that fate has locked To bar the joy we may not win, Peace would go out forevermore If we should dare to enter in.

In the Metropolitan Museum

Within the tiny Pantheon We stood together silently, Leaving the restless crowd awhile As ships find shelter from the sea.

The ancient centuries came back To cover us a moment's space, And thro' the dome the light was glad Because it shone upon your face.

Ah, not from Rome but farther still, Beyond sun-smitten Salamis, The moment took us, till you stooped To find the present with a kiss.

Coney Island

Why did you bring me here? The sand is white with snow, Over the wooden domes The winter sea-winds blow-- There is no shelter near, Come, let us go.

With foam of icy lace The sea creeps up the sand, The wind is like a hand That strikes us in the face. Doors that June set a-swing Are bolted long ago; We try them uselessly-- Alas, there cannot be For us a second spring; Come, let us go.

Union Square

With the man I love who loves me not, I walked in the street-lamps' flare; We watched the world go home that night In a flood through Union Square.

I leaned to catch the words he said That were light as a snowflake falling; Ah well that he never leaned to hear The words my heart was calling.

And on we walked and on we walked Past the fiery lights of the picture shows-- Where the girls with thirsty eyes go by On the errand each man knows.

And on we walked and on we walked, At the door at last we said good-bye; I knew by his smile he had not heard My heart's unuttered cry.

With the man I love who loves me not I walked in the street-lamps' flare-- But oh, the girls who can ask for love In the lights of Union Square.

Central Park at Dusk

Buildings above the leafless trees Loom high as castles in a dream, While one by one the lamps come out To thread the twilight with a gleam.

There is no sign of leaf or bud, A hush is over everything-- Silent as women wait for love, The world is waiting for the spring.

Young Love

I

I cannot heed the words they say, The lights grow far away and dim, Amid the laughing men and maids My eyes unbidden seek for him.

I hope that when he smiles at me He does not guess my joy and pain, For if he did, he is too kind To ever look my way again.

II

I have a secret in my heart No ears have ever heard, And still it sings there day by day Most like a caged bird.

And when it beats against the bars, I do not set it free, For I am happier to know It only sings for me.

III

I wrote his name along the beach, I love the letters so. Far up it seemed and out of reach, For still the tide was low.

But oh, the sea came creeping up, And washed the name away, And on the sand where it had been A bit of sea-grass lay.

A bit of sea-grass on the sand, Dropped from a mermaid's hair-- Ah, had she come to kiss his name And leave a token there?

IV

What am I that he should love me, He who stands so far above me, What am I? I am like a cowslip turning Toward the sky, Where a planet's golden burning Breaks the cowslip's heart with yearning, What am I that he should love me, What am I?

V

O dreams that flock about my sleep, I pray you bring my love to me, And let me think I hear his voice Again ring free.

And if you care to please me well, And live to-morrow in my mind, Let him who was so cold before, To-night seem kind.

VI

I plucked a daisy in the fields, And there beneath the sun I let its silver petals fall One after one.

I said, "He loves me, loves me not," And oh, my heart beat fast, The flower was kind, it let me say "He loves me," last.

I kissed the little leafless stem, But oh, my poor heart knew The words the flower had said to me, They were not true.

VII

I sent my love a letter, And if he loves me not, He shall not find my love for him In any line or dot.

But if he loves me truly, He'll find it hidden deep, As dawn gleams red thro' chilly clouds To eyes awaked from sleep.

VIII

The world is cold and gray and wet, And I am heavy-hearted, yet When I am home and look to see The place my letters wait for me, If I should find ONE letter there, I think I should not greatly care If it were rainy or were fair, For all the world would suddenly Seem like a festival to me.

IX

I hid three words within my heart, That longed to fly to him, At dawn they woke me with a start, They sang till day was dim.

And now at last I let them fly, As little birds should do, And he will know the first is "I", The others "Love" and "You".

X

Across the twilight's violet His curtained window glimmers gold; Oh happy light that round my love Can fold.

Oh happy book within his hand, Oh happy page he glorifies, Oh happy little word beneath His eyes.

But oh, thrice happy, happy I Who love him more than songs can tell, For in the heaven of his heart I dwell.

Sonnets and Lyrics

Primavera Mia

As kings who see their little life-day pass, Take off the heavy ermine and the crown, So had the trees that autumn-time laid down Their golden garments on the faded grass, When I, who watched the seasons in the glass Of mine own thoughts, saw all the autumn's brown Leap into life and don a sunny gown Of leafage such as happy April has. Great spring came singing upward from the south; For in my heart, far carried on the wind, Your words like winged seeds took root and grew, And all the world caught music from your mouth; I saw the light as one who had been blind, And knew my sun and song and spring were you.

Soul's Birth

When you were born, beloved, was your soul New made by God to match your body's flower, And were they both at one same precious hour Sent forth from heaven as a perfect whole? Or had your soul since dim creation burned, A star in some still region of the sky, That leaping earthward, left its place on high And to your little new-born body yearned? No words can tell in what celestial hour God made your soul and gave it mortal birth, Nor in the disarray of all the stars Is any place so sweet that such a flower Might linger there until thro' heaven's bars, It heard God's voice that bade it down to earth.

Love and Death

Shall we, too, rise forgetful from our sleep, And shall my soul that lies within your hand Remember nothing, as the blowing sand Forgets the palm where long blue shadows creep When winds along the darkened desert sweep? Or would it still remember, tho' it spanned A thousand heavens, while the planets fanned The vacant ether with their voices deep? Soul of my soul, no word shall be forgot, Nor yet alone, beloved, shall we see The desolation of extinguished suns, Nor fear the void wherethro' our planet runs, For still together shall we go and not Fare forth alone to front eternity.

For the Anniversary of John Keats' Death

(February 23, 1821)

At midnight when the moonlit cypress trees Have woven round his grave a magic shade, Still weeping the unfinished hymn he made, There moves fresh Maia like a morning breeze Blown over jonquil beds when warm rains cease. And stooping where her poet's head is laid, Selene weeps while all the tides are stayed And swaying seas are darkened into peace. But they who wake the meadows and the tides Have hearts too kind to bid him wake from sleep Who murmurs sometimes when his dreams are deep, Startling the Quiet Land where he abides, And charming still, sad-eyed Persephone With visions of the sunny earth and sea.

Silence

(To Eleonora Duse)

We are anhungered after solitude, Deep stillness pure of any speech or sound, Soft quiet hovering over pools profound, The silences that on the desert brood, Above a windless hush of empty seas, The broad unfurling banners of the dawn, A faery forest where there sleeps a Faun; Our souls are fain of solitudes like these. O woman who divined our weariness, And set the crown of silence on your art, From what undreamed-of depth within your heart Have you sent forth the hush that makes us free To hear an instant, high above earth's stress, The silent music of infinity?

The Return

I turned the key and opened wide the door To enter my deserted room again, Where thro' the long hot months the dust had lain. Was it not lonely when across the floor No step was heard, no sudden song that bore My whole heart upward with a joyous pain? Were not the pictures and the volumes fain To have me with them always as before? But Giorgione's Venus did not deign To lift her lids, nor did the subtle smile Of Mona Lisa deepen. Madeleine Still wept against the glory of her hair, Nor did the lovers part their lips the while, But kissed unheeding that I watched them there.

Fear

I am afraid, oh I am so afraid! The cold black fear is clutching me to-night As long ago when they would take the light And leave the little child who would have prayed, Frozen and sleepless at the thought of death. My heart that beats too fast will rest too soon; I shall not know if it be night or noon,-- Yet shall I struggle in the dark for breath? Will no one fight the Terror for my sake, The heavy darkness that no dawn will break? How can they leave me in that dark alone, Who loved the joy of light and warmth so much, And thrilled so with the sense of sound and touch,-- How can they shut me underneath a stone?

Anadyomene

The wide, bright temple of the world I found, And entered from the dizzy infinite That I might kneel and worship thee in it; Leaving the singing stars their ceaseless round Of silver music sound on orbed sound, For measured spaces where the shrines are lit, And men with wisdom or with little wit Implore the gods that mercy may abound. Ah, Aphrodite, was it not from thee My summons came across the endless spaces? Mother of Love, turn not thy face from me Now that I seek for thee in human faces; Answer my prayer or set my spirit free Again to drift along the starry places.

Galahad in the Castle of the Maidens

(To the maiden with the hidden face in Abbey's painting)

The other maidens raised their eyes to him Who stumbled in before them when the fight Had left him victor, with a victor's right. I think his eyes with quick hot tears grew dim; He scarcely saw her swaying white and slim, And trembling slightly, dreaming of his might, Nor knew he touched her hand, as strangely light As a wan wraith's beside a river's rim. The other maidens raised their eyes to see And only she has hid her face away, And yet I ween she loved him more than they, And very fairly fashioned was her face. Yet for Love's shame and sweet humility, She dared not meet him with their queenlike grace.

To an Aeolian Harp

The winds have grown articulate in thee, And voiced again the wail of ancient woe That smote upon the winds of long ago: The cries of Trojan women as they flee, The quivering moan of pale Andromache, Now lifted loud with pain and now brought low. It is the soul of sorrow that we know, As in a shell the soul of all the sea. So sometimes in the compass of a song, Unknown to him who sings, thro' lips that live, The voiceless dead of long-forgotten lands Proclaim to us their heaviness and wrong In sweeping sadness of the winds that give Thy strings no rest from weariless wild hands.

To Erinna

Was Time not harsh to you, or was he kind, O pale Erinna of the perfect lyre, That he has left no word of singing fire Whereby you waked the dreaming Lesbian wind, And kindled night along the lyric shore? O girl whose lips Erato stooped to kiss, Do you go sorrowing because of this In fields where poets sing forevermore? Or are you glad and is it best to be A silent music men have never heard, A dream in all our souls that we may say: "Her voice had all the rapture of the sea, And all the clear cool quiver of a bird Deep in a forest at the break of day"?

To Cleis

"I have a fair daughter with a form like a golden flower, Cleis, the beloved." Sapphic fragment.

When the dusk was wet with dew, Cleis, did the muses nine Listen in a silent line While your mother sang to you?

Did they weep or did they smile When she crooned to still your cries, She, a muse in human guise, Who forsook her lyre awhile?

Did you feel her wild heart beat? Did the warmth of all the sun Thro' your little body run When she kissed your hands and feet?

Did your fingers, babywise, Touch her face and touch her hair, Did you think your mother fair, Could you bear her burning eyes?

Are the songs that soothed your fears Vanished like a vanished flame, Save the line where shines your name Starlike down the graying years?

Cleis speaks no word to me, For the land where she has gone Lieth mute at dusk and dawn Like a windless tideless sea.

Paris in Spring

The city's all a-shining Beneath a fickle sun, A gay young wind's a-blowing, The little shower is done. But the rain-drops still are clinging And falling one by one-- Oh it's Paris, it's Paris, And spring-time has begun.