anthology of massachusetts poets(马萨诸赛诗人)-第14节
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little one； Adown that path of light。
Ah； greater blessing I'd not crave； When my life's pilgrimage is o'er；
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Than such repose； content； and love； Some shining path that leads above
To dear ones gone before！
LOUELLA C。 POOLE
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WITH WAVES AND WINGS
WAVES and Wings and Growing Things！ As through the gladden sight
ye flow And flit and glow； Ye win me so In soul to go； I too am waves； I
too am wings； And kindred motion in me springs。
With thee I pass； glad growing grass！… I climb the air with lissome
mien； Unsheathing keen The vivid sheen Of springing green； I thrill the
crude； exalt the crass Fine…flex'd and fluent from Earth's mass。
And impulse craves with thee； Sea Waves！… To make all mutable the
floor Of Earth's firm shore； With flashing pour Whose brimming o'er
Impassion'd motion loves and laves And livens sombre slumbering caves。
Then soaring where the wild birds fare； My song would sweep the
windy lyre Of Heaven's choir； Pulsing desire For starry fire； Abashing
chilling vagues of air With throbbing of warm breasts that dare！
CHARLOTTE PORTER
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BLUEBERRIES
UPON the hills of Garlingtown Beneath the summer sky； In many
pleasant pastures On sunny slopes and high； Their skins abloom with
dusty blue； Asleep； the berries lie。
And all the lads of Garlingtown； And all the lasses too； Still climb the
tranquil hillsides； A merry； barefoot crew； Still homeward plod with
unfilled pails And mouths of berry blue。
And all the birds of Garlingtown； When flocking back to nest；
Remember well the patches Where berries are the best； They pick the
ripest ones at dawn And leave the lads the rest。
Upon the hills of Garlingtown When berry…time was o'er； I looked into
the sunset； And saw an open door； And from the hills of Garlingtown I
went； and came no more。
FRANK PRENTICE RAND
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NOCTURNE
NIGHT of infinite power and infinite silence and space； 》From you
may mortals infer； if ever； the scope divine！ The jealous sun conceals all
but his arrogant face； You bid the Milky Way and a million suns to shine。
Each star to numberless planets gives light and motion and heat； But
you enmantle them all； the nearest and most remote； And the lustres of all
the suns are but spangles under your feet；… Mere bubbles and beads of
noon； they circle and shine and float。
WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER
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ENVOI
I WALKED with poets in my youth； Because the world they drew Was
beautiful and glorious Beyond the world I knew。
The poets are my comrades still； But dearer than in youth； For now I
know that they alone Picture the world of truth。
WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER
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THERE WHERE THE SEA
THERE where the sea enwrapt A strip of land and wind…swept dune；
Where nature was quiescent in the glimmering Noonday sun of early
June； The Placid sea lay shimmering In a mist of blue； 》From which the
sky now drew Its wealth of hue and colour； One heard but the deep
breathing of the ocean； As it breathed along the shore in even motion。
Among the pines and listless of the scene； Atthis and Alcaeus lay； Within
the heart of each a hunger For the unknown gift of life。 Here from day to
day They met and dreamed away The soft unfloding days of spring； Now
turning to the summer。
Aleaeus：
I am faint with all the fire In my blood； And I would plunge into the
quiet blue And lose all sense of time and you。
Atthis：
I； too； would plunge And swim with you！
Doffing her robe； the maid stood in her beauty； Calm and sure and
unafraid； The sinuous splendour of her limbs； A silent symphony of
curving line； Which reached its final note In breast and rounded throat。 He
had not known that flesh could be so fair； Each movement which she
made Wove o'er his sense a deeper spell； Her beauty swept him like a
flame And caught him unaware。 She looked into his eyes； then dropping
hers Before that burning gaze； Softly turned and crept with sunlit
shoulders Down among the boulders； To the sea。 Secure within its
covering depth She called to him to follow。 She led him out along the tide；
With swift unerring stroke； Nor paused till he was at her side。 With
conquering arm He seized her and from her brow Tossed back the dripping
locks； and sought her lips… Her eyes closed； As all her body yielded to his
kiss。 Then home he bore her to the shore； Within his heart a song of
triumph； In hers； a new…born joy of womanhood。 So spring for them
passed on to summer。
MARIE TUDOR
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MARRIAGE
YOU； who have given me your name； And with your laws have made
me wife； To share your failures and your fame； Whose word has made me
yours for life。
What proof have you that you hold me？ That in reality I'm one With
you； through all eternity？ What proof when all is said and done？
In spite of all the laws you've made； I'm free。 I am no part of you。 But
wait…the last word is not said； You're mine； for I'm myself and you。
All through my veins there flows your blood； In you there is no part of
me。 By virtue of my motherhood Through me you live eternally。
MARIE TUDOR
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PITY
Oh do not Pity me because I gave My heart when lovely April with a
gust； Swept down the singing lanes with a cool wave； And do not pity me
because I thrust Aside your love that once burned as a flame。 I was as
thirsty as a windy flower That bares its bosom to the summer shower And
to the unremembered winds that came。 Pity me most for moments yet to
be； In the far years； when some day I shall turn Toward this strong path up
to our little door And find it barred to all my ecstasy。 No sound of your
warm voice the winds have borne… Only the crying sea upon the shore。
HAROLD VINAL
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A ROSE TO THE LIVING
A ROSE to the living is more Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead； In
filling love's infinite store； A rose to the living is more； If graciously given
before The hungering spirit is fled；… A rose to the living is more Than
sumptuous wreaths to the dead。
NIXON WATERMAN
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THE STORM
SHE reached for sunset fires； And lived with stars and the sea； The
mountains for her temple； The storm for priest had she。
Together a libation They poured to the God she knew； Such wine as
ageless heavens And lonely wisdom brew。
Now she has done with worship； For her all rites are the same； Yet the
storm keeps green forever The moss upon her name。
G。 O。 WARREN
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WHERE THEY SLEEP
THE fog inrolling； dark and still Lies deep upon the crowded dead As
flooding sea upon the sands； And quenches starlight overhead。
