anthology of massachusetts poets-第4节
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Ah； merrily he plundered；
He sang and fought and kissed！
Though none have found his treasure；
And none his part would take；
I bless that thirteenth lady
Who chose him for my sake！
ABBIE FARWELL BROWN
CANDLEMAS
O HEARKEN； all ye little weeds
That lie beneath the snow；
（So low； dear hearts； in poverty so low！）
The sun hath risen for royal deeds；
A valiant wind the vanguard leads；
Now quicken ye； lest unborn seeds
Before ye rise and blow。
O furry living things； adream
On winter's drowsy breast；
（How rest ye there； how softly； safely rest！）
Arise and follow where a gleam
Of wizard gold unbinds the stream；
And all the woodland windings seem
With sweet expectance blest。
My birds； come back！ the hollow sky
Is weary for your note。
（Sweet…throat； come back！ O liquid； mellow
throat！）
Ere May's soft minions hereward fly；
Shame on ye； Laggards； to deny
The brooding breast； the sun…bright eye；
The tawny； shining coat！
ALICE BROWN
SUNRISE ON MANSFIELD MOUNTAIN
O SWIFT forerunners； rosy with the race！
Spirits of dawn； divinely manifest
Behind your blushing banners in the sky；
Daring invaders of Night's tenting…ground；
How do ye strain on forward…bending foot；
Each to be first in heralding of joy！
With silence sandalled； so they weave their way；
And so they stand； with silence panoplied；
Chanting； through mystic symbollings of flame；
Their solemn invocation to the light。
O changeless guardians！ 0 ye wizard first！
What strenuous philter feeds your potency。
That thus ye rest； in sweet wood…hardiness；
Ready to learn of all and utter naught？
What breath may move ye； or what breeze invite
To odorous hot lendings of the heart？
What wind…but all the winds are yet afar；
And e'en the little tricksy zephyr sprites；
That fleet before them； like their elfin locks；
Have lagged in sleep； nor stir nor waken yet
To pluck the robe of patient majesty。
Too still for dreaming； too divine for sleep；
So range the firs； the constant； fearless ones。
Warders of mountain secrets； there they wait；
Each with his cloak about him； breathless； calm。
And yet expectant； as who knows the dawn；
And all night thrills with memory and desire；
Searching in what has been for what shall be：
The marvel of the ne'er familiar day；
Sacred investiture of life renewed；
The chrism of dew； the coronal of flame。
Low in the valley lies the conquered rout
Of man's poor； trivial turmoil； lost and drowned
Under the mist； in gleaming rivers rolled；
Where oozy marsh contends with frothing main。
And rounding all； springs one full； ambient arch；
One great good limpid worldso still； so still！
For no sound echoes from its crystal curve
Save four clear notes； the song of that lone bird
Who； brave but trembling； tries his morning hymn；
And has no heart to finish； for the awe
And wonder of this pearling globe of dawn。
Light； light eternal！ veiling…place of stars！
Light； the revealer of dread beauty's face！
Weaving whereof the hills are lambent clad！
Mighty libation to the Unknown God！
Cup whereat pine…trees slake their giant thirst
And little leaves drink sweet delirium！
Being and breath and potion！ living soul
And all…informing heart of all that lives！
How can we magnify thine awful name
Save by its chanting： Light！ and Light！ and Light！
An exhalation from far sky retreats；
It grows in silence； as 'twere self…create；
Suffusing all the dusky web of night。
But one lone corner it invades not yet；
Where low above a black and rimy crag
Hangs the old moon； thin as a battered shield；
The holy； useless shield of long…past wars；
Dinted and frosty； on the crystal dark。
But lo！ the east；let none forget the east；
Pathway ordained of old where He should tread。
Through some sweet magic common in the skies；
The rosy banners are with saffron tinct；
The saffron grows to gold； the gold is fire；
And led by silence more majestical
Than clash of conquering arms； He comes！ He comes！
He holds His spear benignant； sceptrewise；
And strikes out flame from the adoring hills。
ALICE BROWN
BURNT ARE THE PETALS OF LIFE
BURNT are the petals of life as a rose fallen and
crumbled to dust。
Blackened the heart of the past is； ashes that must
Forever be sifted； more precious than sunbeams that
open the budding to…morrow。
Once was a passion completed；…too perfect； the
Gods have not broken to borrow…
Blackened the heart of the past is； ashes that must
Forever be sifted。 O； loving to…morrow
The rose of the past is； Life…Eternity's dust。
ELSIE PUMPELLY CABOT
FOUR FOUNTAINS AFTER RESPIGHI
FRESH mists of Roman dawn；
For water search the cattle；
Faintlv on damp air sounds the shepherd's horn
Above fountain Giulia's prattle。
Triton； joyous and loud
Of Naiads summons troops；
A frenziedly leaping and mingling crowd；
Dancing； pursuing groups。
At high noon the trumpets peal；
Neptune's chariot passes by；
Trains of sirens； tritons； Trevi's jets heat
Then trumpets' echoes sigh。
Tolling bell and sunset；
Twittering birds and calm；
Medici's fountain； shimmering net；
Into the night brings balm。
JESSICA CARR
CRETONNE TROPICS
THE cretonne in your willow chair
Shows through a zone of rosy air；
A tree of parrots； agate…eyed；
With blue…green crests and plumes of pride
And beaks most formidably curved。
I hear the river； silver…nerved；
To their shrill protests make reply；
And the palm forest stir and sigh。
Curious； the spell that colors cast；
Binding the fancy coweb…fast；
And you would smile if you could know
I like your cretonne parrots so！
But I have seen them sail toward night
Superbly homeward； the last light
Lifting them like a purple sea
Scorned and made use of arrogantly；
And I have heard them cry aloud
》From out a tall palm's emerald cloud；
And I brought home a brilliant feather；
Lost like a flake of sunset weather。
Here in the north the sea is white
And mother…of…pearl in morning light；
Quite lovely； but there is a glare
That daunts me。
Now the willow chair
Suggests a more perplexing sea；
Till my heart aches with memory
And parrots dye the air around；
And I forget the pallid Sound。
GRACE HAZARD
TO HILDA OF HER ROSES
ENOUGH has been said about roses
To fill thirty thick volumes；
There are as many songs about roses
As there are roses in the world
That includes Mexico 。 。 。 the Azores 。。。 Oregon 。。。
It is a pity your roses
Are too late for Omar 。 。 。
It is a pity Keats has gone 。 。 。
Yet there must be something left to say
Of flowers like these！
Adventurers；
They pushed their way
Through dewy tunnels of the June night
Now they confer。。。。。
A little tremulous。。。。。
Dazzled by the yellow sea…beach of morning
If Herrick would tiptoe back 。 。 。
If Blake were to look this way
Ledwidge； even！
GRACE HAZARD CONKLING
DANDELION
LITTLE soldier with the golden helmet；
O What are you guarding on my lawn？
You with your green gun
And your yellow beard；
Why do you stand so stiff？
There is only the grass to fight！
HILDA CONKLING
RED ROOSTER
RED ROOSTER in your gray coop；
O stately creature with tail…feathers red and
blue；
Yellow and black；
You have a comb gay as a parade
On your head：
You have pearl trinkets
On your feet：
The short feathers smooth along your back
Are the dark color of wet rocks；
Or the rippled green of ships
When I look at their sides through water。
I don't know how you happened to be made
So proud； so foolish；
Wearing your coat of many colors；
Shouting all day long your crooked words；
Loud 。 。 。 sharp 。 。 。 not beautiful！
HILDA CONKLING
VELVETS
（BY A BED OF PANSIES）
THIS pansy has a thinking face
Like the yellow moon。
This one has a face with white blots；
I call him the clown。
Here goes one down the grass
With a pretty look of plumpness；
She is a little girl going to school
With her hands in the pockets of her pinafore。
Her name is Sue。
I like this one； in a bonnet；
Waiting；
Her eyes are so deep！
But these on the other side；
These that wear purple and blue；
They are the Velvets；
The king with his cloak；
The queen with her gown；
The prince with his feather。
These are dark and quiet
And stay alone。
I know you； Velvets；
Color of Dark；
Like the pine…tree on the hill
When stars shine！
HILDA CONKLING
THE MOODS
THE Moods have laid their hands across my hair：
The Moods have drawn their fingers through my heart；
My hair shall never more lie smooth and bright；
But stir like tide…worn sea…weed； and my heart
Shall never more be glad of small sweet things；…
A wild rose； or a crescent moon；…a book
Of little verses； or a dancing
