anthology of massachusetts poets(马萨诸赛诗人)-第10节
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roots tighten； I am anxious for morning； I cannot rest in fear of what may
happen。
You or I…and I am a coward。 Surely frost should take the crimson。
Purple is a finer color；
Very splendid in isolation。
So we nod above the broken Stems of flowers almost rotted。 Many
mornings there cannot be now For us both。 Ah； Dear； I love you！
AMY LOWELL
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PATTERNS
I WALK down the garden paths； And all the daffodils Are blowing；
and the bright blue squills。 I walk down the patterned garden paths In my
stiff； brocaded gown。 With my powdered hair and jewelled fan； I too am a
rare Pattern。 As I wander down The garden paths。
My dress is richly figured； And the train Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel； and the thrift Of the borders。 Just a plate of current fashion；
Tripping by in high…heeled； ribboned shoes。 Not a softness anywhere
about me； Only a whale…bone and brocade。
And I sink on a seat in the shade Of a lime tree。 For my passion Wars
against the stiff brocade。 The daffodils and squills Flutter in the breeze As
they please。 And I weep； For the lime tree is in blossom And one small
flower has dropped upon my bosom。
And the splashing of waterdrops In the marble fountain Comes down
the garden paths。 The dripping never stops。 Underneath my stiffened gown
Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin； A basin in the midst
of hedges grown So thick； she cannot see her lover hiding； But she guesses
he is near； And the sliding of the water Seems the stroking of a dear Hand
upon her。 What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown！ I should like to see it
lying in a heap upon the ground。 All the pink and silver crumpled up upon
the ground。
I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths； And he would
stumble after； Bewildered by my laughter。 I should see the sun flashing
from his sword hilt and the buckles on his shoes。 I would choose To lead
him in a maze along the patterned paths； A bright and laughing maze for
my heavy…booted lover； Till he caught me in the shade； And the buttons of
his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me； Aching； melting； unafraid。
With the shadows of the leaves and the sundrops； And the plopping of the
waterdrops； All about us in the open afternoon… I am very like to swoon
With the weight of this brocade； For the sun sifts through the shade。
Underneath the fallen blossom In my bosom； Is a letter I have hid。 It
was brought to me this morning by a rider from the Duke。 〃Madam； we
regret to inform you that Lord Hart… well Died in action Thursday
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sen'night。〃 As I read it in the white morning sunlight。 The letters squirmed
like snakes。 〃Any answer； Madam；〃 said my footman。 〃No；〃 I told him。
〃See that the messenger takes some refreshment。 No； no answer。〃 And I
walked into the garden； Up and down the patterned paths； In my stiff；
correct brocade。 The blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in the sun；
Each one。 I stood upright too； Held rigid to the pattern By the stiffness of
my gown。 Up and down I walked； Up and down。
In a month be would have been my husband； In a month； here；
underneath this lime； We would have broke the pattern； He for me； and I
for him； He as Colonel； I as lady； On this shady seat。 He had a whim That
sunlight carried blessing。 And I answered； 〃It shall be as you have said。〃
Now he is dead。
In Summer and in Winter I shall walk Up and down The patterned
garden paths In my stiff； brocaded gown。 The squills and the daffodils Will
give place to pillared roses； and to asters； and to snow。
I shall go Up and down； In my gown。 Gorgeously arrayed； Boned and
stayed。 And the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace By
each button； hook and lace。 For the man who should loose me is dead；
Fighting with the Duke in Flanders； In a pattern called a war。 Christ！ What
are patterns for？
AMY LOWELL
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A BATHER
THICK dappled by circles of sunshine and fluttering shade。 Your
bright； naked body advances； blown over by leaves； Half…quenched in
their various green； just a point Of you showing； A knee or a thigh； sudden
glimpsed； then at once Blotted into The filmy and flickering forest； to start
out again Triumphant in smooth； supple roundness； edged Sharp as white
ivory； Cool； perfect； with rose rarely tinting your lips and Your breasts；
Swelling out from the green in the opulent curves Of ripe fruit； And
hidden； like fruit； by the swift intermittence Of leaves。 So； clinging to
branches and moss； you advance on the ledges Of rock which hang over
the stream； with the wood…smells about you； The pungence of strawberry
plants and of gum… oozing spruces； While below runs the water impatient；
impatient… to take you； To splash you； to run down your sides； to sing you
of deepness； Of pools brown and golden； with brown…and…gold flags on
their borders； Of blue； lingering skies floating solemnly over your beauty；
Of undulant waters a…sway in the effort to hold you
To keep you submerged and quiescent while over you glories The
summer。 Oread； Dryad； or Naiad； or just Woman； clad only in youth and in
gallant perfection； Standing up in a great burst of sunshine； you dazzle my
eyes Like a snow…star； a moon； your effulgence burns up in a halo； For you
are the chalice which holds all the races of men。 You slip into the pool and
the water folds over your shoulder； And over the tree…tops the clouds
slowly follow your swimming； To behold the way they act。 And the scent
of the woods is sweet on this hot summer morning。
AMY LOWELL
LEPRECHAUNS AND CLURICAUNS OVER where the Irish
hedges Are with blossoms white as snow； Over where the limestone ledges
Through the soft green grasses show… There the fairies may be seen In
their jackets of red and green； Leprechauns and cluricauns； And the other
ones； I ween。
And； bedad； it is a wonder To behold the way they act。 They're the lads
that seldom blunder； Wise and wary； that's the fact。 You may hold them
with your eye； Look away and off they fly； Leprechauns and cluricauns；
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Bedad； but they are sly！
They have heaps of golden treasure Hid away within the ground；
Where they spend their days in leisure； And where fairy joys abound； But
to mortals not a guinea Will they give…no； not a penny。 Leprechauns and
cluricauns； Their gold is seldom found。
Maybe of a morning early As you pass a lonely rath； You may see a
little curly… Headed fairy in your path。 He'll be working at a shoe；
But he'll have his eye on you… Leprechauns and cluricauns； They know
just what to do。
Visions of a life of riches Surely will before you flash； （You'll no
longer dig the ditches； You'll be well supplied with cash。） And you'll seize
the little man； And you'll hold himif you can； Leprechauns and
cluricauns； 'Tis they're the slipp'ry clan！
DENIS A。 MCCARTHY
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L'ENVOI
WHEN the time for parting comes； and the day is on the wane； And
the silent evening darkens over hill and over plain； And earth holds no
more sorrow； no more grief； and no more pain； Shall we weary for the
battle and the strife？
When at last the trail is ending； and the stars are growing near； And we
breathe the breath of conquest； and the voices that we hear Are the great
companions' voices that have hallowed year on year； Shall we know an
instant's grieving as we pass？
Shall we pause a fleeting moment ere we grasp the eager hands； Take
