dreams & dust(梦与尘)-第13节
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What the gain？ Heroic； yes！but in what cause？ Have they made less
one earth…borne pain？ Broadened the bounded spirit's scope？ Or died to
make the dull world hope？〃
Must man still be the slave of Use？ But these men； careless and
elate； Join battle with a burly world Or come to wrestling grips with
fate； And not for any good nor gain Nor any fame that may befall But；
thrilling in the clutch of life； Heed the loud challenge and the call；
And grown to symbols at the last； Stand in heroic silhouette Against
horizons ultimate； As towers that front lost seas are set；
The reckless gesture； the strong pose； Sharp battle…cry flung back to
Earth； And buoyant humor； as a god Might say： 〃Lo； here my feet have
trod！〃 There lies the meaning and the worth！
They bring no golden treasure home； They win no acres for their
clan； Nor dream nor deed of theirs shall mend The ills of man's
bedeviled span Nor are they skilled in sleights of speech； （Nor
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overeager） to make plain The use they serve； transcending use； The
gain beyond apparent gain！
EARLY AUTUMN
WITH half…hearted levies of frost that make foray； retire； and
refrain Ambiguous bugles that blow and that falter to silence again…
…
With banners of mist that still waver above them； advance and
retreat； The hosts of the Autumn still hide in the hills； for a doubt
stays their feet；
But anon； with a barbaric splendor to dazzle the eyes that behold；
And regal in raiment of purple and umber and amber and gold；
And girt with the glamor of conquest and scarved with red
symbols of pride； From the hills in their might and their mirth on the
steeds of the wind will they ride；
To make sport and make spoil of the Summer； who dwells in a
dream on the plain； Still tented in opulent ease in the camps of her
indolent train。
〃TIME STEALS FROM LOVE〃
TIME steals from Love all but Love's wings； And how should aught
but evil things； Or any good but death； befall Him that is thrall unto
Time's thrall； Slave to the lesser of these Kings？
O heart of youth that wakes and sings！ O golden vows and golden
rings！ Life mocks you with the tale of all Time steals from Love！
O riven lute and writhen strings； Dead bough whereto no blossom
clings； The glory was ephemeral！ Nor may our Autumn grief recall
The passion of the perished Springs Time steals from Love！
THE RONDEAU
YOUR rondeau's tale must still be light No bugle…call to life's stern
fight！ Rather a smiling interlude Memorial to some transient mood
Of idle love and gala…night。
Its manner is the merest sleight O' hand； yet therein dwells its might；
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For if the heavier touch intrude Your rondeau's stale。
Fragrant and fragile； fleet and bright； And wing'd with whim； it gleams
in flight Like April blossoms wind…pursued Down aisles of tangled
underwood； Nor be too serious when you write Your rondeau's tail！
VISITORS
THEY haunt me； they tease me with hinted Withheld revelations； The
songs that I may not utter； They lead me； they flatter； they woo me。 I
follow； I follow； I snatch At the veils of their secrets in vain For lo！ they
have left me and vanished； The songs that I cannot sing。
There are visions elusive that come With a quiver and shimmer of
wings； Shapes shadows and shapes； and the murmur Of voices； Shapes；
that out of the twilight Leap； and with gesture appealing Seem to deliver a
message； And are gone 'twixt a breath and a breath； Shapes that race in
with the waves Moving silverly under the moon；
And are gone ere they break into foam on the rocks And recede；
Breathings of love from invisible Flutes； Blown somewhere out in the
tender Dusk； That die on the bosom of Silence； Formless； And fleeter
than thought； Vaguer than thought or emotion； What are these visitors？
Out of the vast and uncharted Realms that encircle the visible world；
With a glimmer of light on their pinions； They rush 。 。 。 They waver； they
vanish； Leaving me stirred with a dream of the ultimate beauty； A
sense of the ultimate music； I never shall capture；
They are Beauty； Formless and tremulous Beauty；
Beauty unborn； Beauty as yet unappareled In thought； Beauty that
hesitates； Falters； Withdraws from the verge of birth； Flutters； Retreats
from the portals of life； O Beauty for ever uncaptured！ O songs that I
never shall sing！
THE PARTING
WE have come 〃the primrose way；〃 Folly； thou and I！ Such a
glamor and a grace Ever glimmered on thy face； Ever such a witchery Lit
the laughing eyes of thee； Could a fool like me withstand Folly's feast and
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beckoning hand？ Drinking； how thy lips' caress Spiced the cup of
waywardness！ So we came 〃the primrose way；〃 Folly； thou and I！
But now； Folly； we must part； Folly； thou and I！ Shall one look with
mirth or tears Back on all his wasted years； Purposes dissolved in wine；
Pearls flung to the heedless swine？
Idle days and nights of mirth； Were they pleasures nothing worth？ Well；
there's no gainsaying we Squandered youth right merrily！ But now； Folly；
we must part； Folly； thou and I！
AN OPEN FIRE
THESE logs with drama and with dream are rife； For all their
golden Summers and green Springs Through leaf and root they sucked the
forest's life； Drank in its secret； deep； essential things； Its midwood
moods； its mystic runes； Its breathing hushes stirred of faery wings； Its
August nights and April noons； The garnered fervors of forgotten Junes
Flare forth again and waste away； And in the sap that leaps and sings
We hear again the chant the cricket flings Across the hawthorn…scented
dusks of May。
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REALITIES
REALITIES
WE are deceived by the shadow； we see not the substance of
things。 For the hills are less solid than thought； and deeds are but
vapors； and flesh Is a mist thrown off and resumed by the soul； as a
world by a god。 Back of the transient appearance dwells in inef…
fable calm The utter reality； ultimate truth； this seems and that is。
THE STRUGGLE
I HAVE been down in a dark valley； I have been groping through a
deep gorge； Far above； the lips of it were rimmed with moon… light；
And here and there the light lay on the dripping rocks So that it
seemed they dripped with moonlight； not with water； So deep it was；
that narrow gash among the hills； That those great pines which fringed its
edge Seemed to me no larger than upthrust fingers Silhouetted against the
sky； And at its top the vale was strait； And the rays were slant And reached
but part way down the sides； I could not see the moon itself； I walked
through darkness； and the valley's edge Seemed almost level with the stars；
The stars that were like fireflies in the little trees。
It was the midnight of defeat； I felt that I had failed； I was mocked of
the gods； There was no way out of that gorge； The paths led no whither
And I could not remember their beginnings； I
