Part 2

I mourn the lips of yesterday, Lips whose kisses are yet unborn, And the old desires outworn, Under sorrows hid away.

Always rain on the far sky-line; Always snow on the beaches gleams, While by the bolted gate of dreams Crouching wolves in the grasses whine.

Into my listless soul I gaze: With clouded eyes I search the past, At all the long-spilt blood aghast Of lambs that died in wintry ways.

Only the moon its mournful fires Enkindles, and a desolate light Falls where the autumn frosts are white Over my famishing desires.

LISTLESSNESS

I sing the pale ballades of eld, Of kisses lost without reward, And lo, on love's luxurious sward, The nuptials of the sick are held.

Voices thro' my slumber sound: Listlessly they gather near. Lilies bloom in closes where Star nor sun hath blessed the ground.

And lo, these ghosts of old desire, These lagging throbs of impulse crost, Are paupers in a palace lost, Sick tapers in the auroral fire.

When shall the moon my vision bathe, That seeks to plume the eternal streams Of darkness, and about my dreams Her slow cerulean raiment swathe?

AMEN

At length the consecrating hour is here That sains the slave's extenuated sleep. And I who wait shall see its hands appear, Full of white roses in these caverns deep.

I wait--at length to feel its cooling wind Strike on my heart, impregnable to lies, A paschal lamb lost amid marshes blind, A wound o'er which the surging waters rise.

I wait--for nights no morrow shall defy, I wait--for weakness nothing shall avail; To feel upon my hands its shadow lie, To see in peaceful tides its image pale.

I wait until those nights of thine shall show All my desires with cleansed eyes go by, For then my dreams shall bathe in evening's glow, And then within their crystal castle die.

THE DIVING BELL

Lo, the diver, forever within his bell! And a whole sea of glass, a sea eternally warm! A whole motionless world, a world of slow green rhythms! So many curious creatures beyond those walls of glass, And any contact eternally prohibited! And yet there is so much life in those bright waters yonder!

Look! The shadows of great sailing-ships-- they glide over the flowers, the dahlias of the submarine forest! And I stand for a moment in the shadow of whales that are voyaging to the Pole!

And at this very moment, I doubt not, my fellow-men in the harbour Are discharging the vessels that sail hither laden with ice: A glacier was there, in the midst of the July meadows! And men are swimming and floating in the green waters of the creek, And at noon they enter shadowy caverns... And the breezes of ocean are fanning the roofs and balconies.

Lo, the flaming tongues of the Gulf-Stream! Take heed lest their kisses touch the walls of lassitude! They have ceased to lay ice on the brows of the fevered, And the patients have lit a bonfire And are casting great handfuls of green lilies into the flames!

Lean your brows upon the cooler panes, While waiting for the moonlight to enter the bell from above, And close your eyes tightly, to the forest of colour, The pendulous blues and albuminous violets, And close your ears to the suggestions of the tepid water.

Dry the brows of your desires; they are weak with sweat. Go firstly to those on the point of swooning. They have the air of people celebrating a wedding in a dungeon, Or of people entering, at mid-day, a long lamp-lit avenue underground; In festival procession they are passing Thro' a landscape like an orphaned childhood.

Go now to those about to die: They move like virgins who have wandered far In the sun, on a day of fast; They are pale as patients who placidly listen to the rain in the gardens of the hospital; They have the look of survivors, breaking their fast on a battle-field; They are like prisoners who know that all their gaolers are bathing in the river, And who hear men mowing the grass in the garden of the prison.

AQUARIUM

Now my desires no more, alas, Summon my soul to my eyelids' brink, For with its prayers that ebb and pass It too must sink,

To lie in the depth of my closed eyes; Only the flowers of its weary breath Like icy blooms to the surface rise, Lilies of death.

Its lips are sealed; in the depths of woe, And a world away, in the far-off gloom, They sing of azure stems that grow A mystic bloom.

But lo, its fingers--I have grown Pallid beholding them, I who perceive Them trace the marks its poor unblown Lost lilies leave.

I know it must die, for its hour is o'er: Folding its impotent hands at last, Hands too weary to pluck any more The flowers of the past!

THE BURNING-GLASS

I watch the hours of long ago: Their blue and secret depths I set Under the burning-glass, Regret, And watch a happier flora blow.

Hold up the glass o'er my desires! Behold them through my soul, a glass At memory's touch the withered grass Breaks forth into devouring fires.

Now above my thoughts I hold The azure crystal, in whose heart Suddenly unfolding start The leaves of agonies borne of old,

Until those nights remote I see Even to memory dead so long That their sullen tears do wrong To the green soul of hopes to be.

REFLECTIONS

Under the brimming tide of dreams O, my soul is full of fear! In my heart the moon is clear; Deep it lies in the tide of dreams.

Under the listless reeds asleep, Only the deep reflection shows Of palm, of lily and of rose, Weeping yet in the waters deep;

And the flowers, late and soon, Fall upon the mirrored sky, To sink and sink eternally Thro' dreamy waters and the moon.

VISIONS

All the tears that I have shed, All my kisses, lo, they pass Thro' my mind as in a glass: All my kisses whose joy is dead.

There are flowers without a hue, Lilies that under the moonlight fade, Moonlight over the meadows laid, Fountains far on the sky-line blue.

Weary and heavy with slumber I See thro' the lids that slumber closes Crows that gather amid the roses, Sick folk under a sunbright sky.

Of these vague loves the weary smart Shines unchanging late and soon Like a pale slow-moving moon Sadly into my indolent heart.

PRAYER

Thou know'st, O Lord, my spirit's dearth Thou see'st the worth of what I bring The evil blossoms of the earth, The light upon a perished thing.

Thou see'st my sick and weary mood: The moon is dark, the dawn is slain. Thy glory on my solitude Shed Thou like fructifying rain.

Light Thou, O Lord, beneath my feet The way my weary soul should pass, For now the pain of all things sweet Is piteous as the ice-bound grass.

GLANCES

O all these poor weary glances! And yours, and mine! And those that are no more, and those to be! And those that will never be, and yet exist! There are those that seem to visit the poor on a Sabbath; There are some like sick folk who are houseless, There are some like lambs in a meadow full of bleaching linen; And O, these strange unwonted glances! Under the vaults of some we behold A maiden being put to death in a chamber with closed doors. And some make us dream of unknown sorrows,

Of peasants at the windows of a factory, Of a gardener turned weaver, Of a summer afternoon in a wax-work show, Of the thoughts of a queen on beholding sick man in a garden, Of an odour of camphor in the forest, Of a princess locked in a tower on a day of rejoicing, Of men sailing all the week on the stagnant waters of a canal.

Have pity on those that come creeping forth like convalescents at harvest-tide! Have pity on those that have the air of children who have lost their way at supper-time! Have pity on the glances of the wounded man at the surgeon, Like tents stricken by a hurricane! Have pity on the glances of the virgin tempted! (Rivers of milk are flowing away in the darkness; And the swans have died in the midst of serpents!) And the gaze of the virgin who surrenders!

There are princesses deserted in swamps that have no issue! And lo, those eyes in which you may see ships in full sail, lit up by flashes of the storm! And how pitiful are all those glances which suffer because they are not elsewhere! And so much suffering, so indistinguishable and yet so various! And those glances which no one will ever understand! And those poor glances which are all but dumb! And those poor whispering glances! And those poor stifled glances!

Amid some of these you might think yourself in a mansion serving as hospital, And many others have the air of tents, lilies of war, on the little lawn of the convent! And many others have the air of wounded men tended in a hot-house! Or Sisters of Charity on an ocean devoid of patients!

Oh, to have encountered all these glances, To have admitted them all, And to have exhausted mine thereby! And henceforth to be unable to close mine eyes!

VIGIL

My soul her unused hands to pray Folds, that hide the world away: Lord, my broken dreams complete, That Thine angels' lips repeat.

While beneath my wearied eyes She breathes the prayers that in her rise-- Prayers that find my lids a tomb, And whose lilies may not bloom:

While in dreams her barren breast Hushes 'neath my gaze to rest-- Still her eyes from perils cower, Such as wake by falsehood's power.

AFTERNOON

Mine eyes have snared my soul. But O, Grant me, O Lord, my one desire: Let fall Thy leaves upon the snow, Let fall Thy rain upon the fire.

The sun upon my pillow plays, The self-same hours they sound again, And always falls my questing gaze On dying men that harvest grain.

My hands they pluck the withered grass, Mine eyes with sleep are all undone, Are sick folk in a springless pass, Or flowers of darkness in the sun.

When will my dreams unchanging know The rain, and when the meadows brown Along the far horizon, lo, The lambs are herded toward the town.

THE SOUL

Dreams within mine eyes remain, And beneath its crystal dome Lights my soul it somewhile home, Taps upon the azure pane.

Houses of the listless soul! Up the panes the lilies creep; Reeds unfold in waters deep, Longings nought shall e'er make whole

Closing eyes it all but seems Past oblivion I could hold All the rosy flowers of old Of my half-remembered dreams.

Their leaves are dead and scattered far. Shall I not see them verdant soon When with her azure hands the moon In silence sets the gates ajar?

INTENTIONS

Have pity on the eyes morose Wherein the soul its hope reveals On fated things that ne'er unclose, And all that wait what night conceals.

Ripples that rock the spirit's lake! Lilies that sway beneath the tide To threads the eternal rhythms shake! O powers that close to vision hide!

Behold, O Lord, unwonted flowers Among the water-lilies' white! Dim hands of Thine angelic powers Trouble the waters of my sight:

At mystic signs the buds unroll, Shed on the waters from the skies, And as the swans take flight my soul Spreads the white pinions of its eyes.

CONTACTS

The sense of contact! Darkness lies between your fingers! The cries of brazen instruments in a tempest! The music of organs in the sunlight! All the flocks of the soul in the depths of a night of eclipse! All the salt of the sea on the grass of the meadows! And the blaze of blue lightning on every horizon! (Have pity on this human sense!)

But O these sadder, wearier contacts! O the touch of your poor moist hands! I hear your pure fingers as they glide between mine, And flocks of lambs are departing by moonlight Along the banks of a misty river.

I can remember all the hands that have touched my hands, And again I see all that was protected by those hands, And I see to-day what I was, protected by those cool hands. I was often the beggar who gnaws his crust on the steps of a throne.

I was sometimes the diver, who cannot evade the surging waters. I was often a whole people, no longer able to escape from the town! And some hands were like a convent without a garden! And some confined me like a group of invalids in a glass-house on a rainy day! Until other cooler hands should come to set the doors ajar, And sprinkle a little water upon the threshold!

O, I have known strange contacts, And here they surround me forever! Some were wont to give alms on a day of sun-shine, Some gathered a harvest in the depths of a cavern, And the music of mountebanks was heard outside the prison. There were wax-work figures in the summer woods, And elsewhere the moon had swept the whole oasis, And at times I found a virgin, flushed and sweating, in a grotto of ice!

Pity these strange hands! These hands contain the secrets of all the kings! Pity these hands too pale! They seem to have emerged from the caverns of the moon; They are worn with spinning threads from the distaffs of fountains! Pity these hands, too white, too moist! They are like princesses that slumber at noon all the summer through.

Avoid these hard harsh hands! They seem to have issued from the rocks! But pity these cold hands! I see a heart bleeding under ribs of ice! And pity these evil hands, For these have poisoned the springs! They have set young cygnets in a nest of hemlock! I have seen the angels of evil open the gates at noon! Here are only madmen on a pestilent river! Here are black sheep only in starless pastures! And lambs hasting away to graze in darkness!

But O these cool faithful hands! They come to offer ripe fruits to the dying! They bring clear cold water in their palms! They water the battlefields with milk! They have surely come from wonderful and eternally virgin forests!

NIGHT

My soul is sick at the end of all, Sick and sad, being weary too, Weary of being so vain, so vain, Weary and sad at the end of all, And O I long for the touch of you!

I long for your hands upon my face; Snow-cold as spirits they will be; I wait until they bring the ring. I wait for their coolness over my face Like a treasure deep in the sea.

I wait to know their healing spell, Lest in the desolate sun I die, So that I die not out in the sun; O bathe mine eyes and make them well, Where things unhappy slumbering lie.

Where many swans upon the sea, Swans that wander over the sea, Stretch forth their mournful throats in vain In wintry gardens by the sea Sick men pluck roses in their pain.

I long for your hands upon my face; Snow-cold as spirits they will be, And soothe my aching sight, alas! My vision like the withered grass Where listless lambs irresolute pass!

FIFTEEN SONGS

I

She chained her in a cavern frore. She set a sign upon the door. The key into the ocean fell: The maid forgot the lamp as well.

She waited for the days of spring; Year by year did seven die, And every year one passed her by.

She waited thro' the winter's cold, And her tresses, waiting too, Recalled the light that once they knew.

They sought the light, they found it out, Crept thro' the rocks and round about, And lit the rocks with all their gold.

He comes at eve that passed of old: Amazéd at the wondrous sight He does not dare approach the light.

He deems it is a mystic sign, Or else a spring that gushes gold, Or angels at their sport divine: He turns, and passes as of old.

II

If he one day come again What shall then be said? --Say that one awaited him, Always, that is dead.

Ay, but if he ask me more, Yet know me not again? --Speak as any sister might, Lest he be in pain.

If he ask where you are gone What shall I reply? --Give him then my golden ring, Make him no reply.

If he asks me why the hall Shows a silent floor? --Show him then the smouldered lamp And the open door.

If he ask me of the hour When you fell asleep? --Tell him, tell him that I smiled Lest my love should weep.

III

Three little maids they did to death, To see what hid within their hearts.

The first little heart was full of bliss, And lo, wherever its blood might run, Three serpents hissed till three years were done.

The second was full of gentlehood, And lo, wherever its blood might run Three lambs that fed till three years were done.

The third was full of pain and woe, And lo, wherever the red blood crept Archangels three their vigil kept.

IV

Maidens with bounden eyes (O loose the scarves of gold!) Maidens with bounden eyes, They sought their destinies.

At noon they opened wide (O keep the scarves of gold!) At noon they opened wide The palace in the plain:

There they greeted life (Bind close the scarves of gold!) There they greeted life, And turned them back again.

V

The three blind sisters (Hope is not cold), The three blind sisters Light their lamps of gold.

Up the tower go they (They and you and we), Up the tower go they To wait the seventh day.

Ah, saith one, turning (Still let us hope), Ah, saith one, turning, I hear our lamps burning....

Ah, the second saith (They and you and we), Ah, the second saith, Tis the king's tread....

Nay, the holiest saith (Still let us hope), Nay, the holiest saith, But our light is dead.

VI

There came one here to say (O child, I am afraid!) There came one here to say 'Twas time to haste away....

A burning lamp I bear, (O child, I am afraid!) A burning lamp I bear, And I draw near!

At the first door, (O child, I am afraid!) At the first door The flame shook sore....

Then, at the second, (O child, I am afraid!) Then, at the second, The flame spoke and beckoned....

The third door is wide (O child, but this is fear!) The third door is wide, And the flame has died.

VII

Orlamonde had seven daughters When the fairy died The seven maids, the seven daughters, Sought to win outside.

Then they lit their seven lamps; Through all the towers they sought; They opened full four hundred halls; The day, they found it not.

They came to the echoing caverns deep; Down, tho' the air was cold, Went, and in a stubborn door Found a key of gold.

They see the ocean through the chinks; They fear to die outside; They beat on the unmoving door They dare not open wide.

VIII

She had three crowns of gold: To whom did she give the three?

One she gave to her parents dear, And they have bought three reeds of gold, And kept her till the spring was near.

And one to those that loved her well: And they have bought three nets of gold, And kept her till the autumn fell.

And one she gave to those she bore, And they have bought three gyves of iron, To chain her till the winter's o'er.

IX

Toward the castle she made her way (Hardly yet was the sun on the sea), Toward the castle she made her way; Knight looked at knight and looked away; The women had never a word to say.

She came to rest before the door (Hardly yet was the sun on the sea), She came to rest before the door; They heard the queen as she paced the floor, And the king that asked her what would she.

"What do you seek, O where do you go? (Have a care, it is hard to see), What do you seek, O where do you go? Doth one await you there below?" But never a word, a word spake she.

Down she went to the one unknown (Have a care, it is hard to see), Down she went to the one unknown, And round the queen her arms were thrown; Never a word did either say; Without a word they went their way.

The king wept on the threshold sore (Have a care, it is hard to see), The king wept by the open door; They heard the footsteps of the queen, And the fall of the leaves where she had been.

X

Her lover went his way (I heard the gate), Her lover went his way; Yet she was gay.

When he came again (I heard the lamp), When he came again Another made the twain.

And the dead I met (I heard her spirit cry), And the dead I met: She who waits him yet.

XI

Mother, mother, do you not hear? Mother, they come; there is news to tell! --Give me your hands, my daughter dear: Tis a tall ship that saileth well.

Mother dear, have a care, give heed! --They go, my daughter, away they speed. Mother, the danger is sore, alas! --Child, my child, it will quickly pass.

Mother, mother, She draweth near! --It is down in the harbour, daughter dear. Mother, mother, She opens the door! --Child, they go, to return no more.

Mother, She enters! I am afraid! --Child, they now have the anchor weighed. Mother, I hear Her speaking low. --Child, my child, it is they that go.

Mother, She makes the stars go dark! --Child,'tis the sails of a shadowy bark. Mother, She knocks at the casements still! --Child, it may be they are fastened ill....

Mother, mother, my sight grows dim.... --Child, they sail for the open sea. On every hand I can see but Him.... --Daughter, what is it, and who is He?

XII

Now your lamps are all alight, --The sun's in the garden on every side Now your lamps are all alight; The sun through every chink is bright: Open the doors on the garden wide!

The keys of the doors are lost one and all, We must be patient what e'er befall; The keys they fell from the tower on high. We must be patient whate'er befall, Wait and wait as the days go by.

The days to be will open the doors, The keys are safe in the forest wide. The forest blazes on every side; The light of the dying leafage pours Blazing bright beneath the doors.

The days to be already ail, The days to be they fear and fail, The days to be will never come; For day by day will die as we, Die as we in this our tomb.

XIII

Sisters, sisters, thirty years I sought where he might be; Thirty years I sought for him: Never did I see.

Thirty years the way I trod; Long the road and hot; Sisters, he was everywhere, He who yet is not.

Sisters, sad the hour and late, My sandal's thongs unpick. Even as I the evening dies, And my soul is sick.

You whose years are seventeen, Forth and seek him too; Sisters, sisters, take my staff, Seek the whole world through.

XIV

There were three sisters fain to die. Her crown of gold each putteth on, And forth to seek their death they're gone.

They wander to the forest forth: "Give us our death, O forest old, For here are our three crowns of gold."