anthology of massachusetts poets(马萨诸赛诗人)-第11节
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instant's grieving as we pass？
Shall we pause a fleeting moment ere we grasp the eager hands； Take
one last long look of wonder at the dimming of the lands； Love the earth
one glowing moment ere we pass from its demands； Cull all beauty in its
essence as we gaze？
Or with not one backward longing shall we leap the last abyss； Scale
the highest crags glad…hearted； fearful only lest the bliss Of an earth…
remembering instant should delay the great sun's kiss… Consuming us
within the flame？
DOROTHEA LAWRENCE MANN
TO IMAGINATION SUGGESTED BY MAXFIELD PARRISH'S
〃AIR CASTLES〃
O BEAUTEOUS boy a…dream； what visions sought Of pictures
magical thy eyes unfold； What triumphs of celestial wonders wrought；
What marvels from a breath of beauty rolled！ Skyward and seaward on the
clouds are scrolled； A mystic imagery of castled thought； A thousand
worlds to lose；or win and mould A radiant iridescence swiftly caught
Of ever…changing glory； fancy…fraught。
Blue wonder of the sea and luminous sky； A thousand wonders in thy
dreamlit face； Eyes that behold afar the turrets high Of Ilium； and the
transient mortal grace Of Deirdre's sadness； all the conquering race Of
Athens； eyes that saw Eden's beauty lie In passionate adorationvisions
trace Across the tender brooding of the sigh That wrecked a city and made
chieftains die。
Forward not backward turns the mystic shine Of those far…seeing orbs
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that track the gleam… The fleecy marvel of the cloud is line On line the
wizard tracery of a dream。 O lad； who buildest not of things that seem；
Beyond what bounds of visioning divine Came that far smile； from what
long…strayed sun… beam Caught thou the radiance； from what fostering
vine The power to build and mould the deep design？
Knowest thou the secret that thy brush would tell； Is all the dream a
bubbled splendor white； Beyond those castles cloud…bound； does there
dwell The eternal silence of the darkor light？ Will thy hand hold the pen
which shall indict The symboled mystery…write the final knell Of rainbow
fancy…is the distant sight A nothingless encircled by a spell Of gleaming
bubbles wrought of beauty's shell？
In vain to question； where the mystery Of Youth's short golden dream
is lord and king。 The eyes that farthest gaze in ecstasy； Were never meant
to paint the immortal thing They see； nor understand the joy they bring。
The misty baubles of the sky and sea Sail on。 Dream still； bright…
visioned boy； and fling The glittering mantle of thy thoughts that flee；
Weaving us evermore thy shining pageantry。
DORTHEA LAWRENCE MANN
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DRAGON
SOME saw a dragon eating up the light； Oho！ Oho！ Oho； ho； ho！
Some heard a lost bird riding out the night； Oho！ Oho！ Oho； ho； ho！
But I saw： A low dark hill with its twisted back Two wings of flame
from the green cloud rack； A sprawling flank overlaid with leaf Glitter and
gleam and shine like steel； Crackle and lash like a serpent's tail！
And I heard： The wind draw out of the west and wail； Dance and
stagger and jig and reel！ With the long low sound of a life in grief！
I saw a life in grief Oho！ 0ho！ Oho； ho； ho Dance and stagger and jig
and reel！ Oho！ Oho！ Oho； ho； ho！
JEANNETTE MARKS 〃THE BOOKMAN。〃
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GREEN GOLDEN DOOR
GREEN golden door； swing in； swing in！ Fanning the life a man must
live； Echoes and airs and minstrelsies； Love and hope that he called his；
Fear and hurt and a man's own sin Casting them forth and sucking them in；
Green golden door； swing out； swing out！
Green golden door； swing in； swing in！ Show me the youth that will
not die； Tell me the dream that has not waked； Seek me the heart that
never ached； Green golden door； swing out； swing out！
Green golden door； swing in； swing out！ Long is the wailing of man's
breath； Short is the wail of death。
JEANNETTE MARKS
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SLEEPY HOLLOW； CONCORD
FOUR graves there are upon the wooded crest； Each one a shrine to
pilgrims ever dear。 Uncovered； mute； are those who tarry here。 Romance's
dreaming master lies at rest Beneath the cedars。 Near is one whose
breast Held Mother Nature's lore。 Beyond； the seer And sage。 There；
one who saw her duty clear； Her name by little men and women blessed。
Four friends who walked in Concord's pleasant ways Long years ago。
They dwelt and worked apart； But now the world has crowned them with
its bays； And holds them close forever to its heart。 O； sacred hill！ There
Genius； guarding stays； And from its slopes shall never Love depart！
JOHN CLAIR MINOT
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THE SWORD OF ARTHUR
A CASTLE stands in Yorkshire （Oh； the hill is fair and green！） And far
beneath it lies a cave No living man has seen。
It is the cave enchanted （Oh； seek it ere ye die！） And there King Arthur
and his knights In dreamless slumber lie。
One time a peasant found it （Oh； the years have hurried well！） It was
the day of fate for him； And this is what befell：
Upon a couch of crystal （Oh； heart be pure and strong！） He saw the
King； and； close beside； The armored knights athrong。
And all of them were sleeping （Praise God； who sendeth rest！） The
sleep that comes when strife is done And ended every quest。
Beside the good King Arthur （How high is your desire？） His sword
within its scabbard lay； The sword with blade of fire。
Now had the peasant known it （Oh； if we all could know！）
He should have drawn that wondrous blade Before he turned to go。
If but his hand had touched it （The sword still lieth there！） He would
have felt in every vein A lofty purpose thrill。 If but his hand had drawn it
（The sword still lieth there！） A kingly way he would have walked；
Wherever he might fare。 But no； he fled affrighted （Oh； pitiful the cost！）
And then he knew； but lo！ the way Into the cave was lost。
He searched forever after （All this was long ago！） But nevermore that
crystal cave His eager eyes could know。
Pray God ye have the vision （Oh； search in every land！） To seize the
sword that Arthur bore When it lies at your hand。
JOHN CLAIR MINOT
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THE DIVINE FOREST
IF there be leaves on the forest floor； Dead leaves there are and
nothing more； If trunks of trees seem sentinels； For what their vigil no
man tells。 And if you clasp these guardian trees Nothing there is to hurt or
please； Only the dead roof of the forest drops Gently down and never
stops And roofs you in and roofs you under； Mute and away from life's
dim thunder； And if there come eternal spring It is but more disheartening；
For Autumn takes the Spring and Summer… Autumn that is the latest
comer… With the Springtime's misty wonder And the Summer's yield of
gold； Weighs you down and weighs you under To where the blackened
leaves are mold。 。 。 The lone gift of the forest is ever new： Eternity where
dwell not you。 The forest； accepting； heeds you not； Accepting all…you are
forgot。 If there be leaves on the forest floor； Dead leaves there are and
nothing more。
Once the forest spoke but now is silent； Save in the skyward branches
whence no sound Seems to touch ear of any man below Or else no
longer the man knows how to hear。 Such men build roofs to keep the
forest out； Yet all their roofs are built of the forest's self；
Only th
