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第14节

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They held me captive for a while。



Ah; then I listened for your voice!

Like music every word did fall;

Making the hearts of men rejoice;

And mine rejoiced the most of all。



At sight of you; my soul took flame。

But now; alas! the spell is fled。

Is it that you are not the same;

Or only that my love is dead?



I know notbut last night I dreamed

That you were walking by my side;

And sweet; as once you were; you seemed;

And all my heart was glorified。



Your head against my shoulder lay;

And round your waist my arm was pressed;

And as we walked a well…known way;

Love was between us both confessed。



But when with dawn I woke from sleep;

And slow came back the unlovely truth;

I wept; as an old man might weep

For the lost paradise of youth。







FOOTSTEPS IN THE STREET







Oh; will the footsteps never be done?

The insolent feet

Thronging the street;

Forsaken now of the only one。



The only one out of all the throng;

Whose footfall I knew;

And could tell it so true;

That I leapt to see as she passed along;



As she passed along with her beautiful face;

Which knew full well

Though it did not tell;

That I was there in the window…space。



Now my sense is never so clear。

It cheats my heart;

Making me start

A thousand times; when she is not near。



When she is not near; but so far away;

I could not come

To the place of her home;

Though I travelled and sought for a month and a day。



Do you wonder then if I wish the street

Were grown with grass;

And no foot might pass

Till she treads it again with her sacred feet?







FOR A PRESENT OF ROSES







Crimson and cream and white …

My room is a garden of roses!

Centre and left and right;

Three several splendid posies。



As the sender is; they are sweet;

These lovely gifts of your sending;

With the stifling summer heat

Their delicate fragrance blending。



What more can my heart desire?

Has it lost the power to be grateful?

Is it only a burnt…out fire;

Whose ashes are dull and hateful?



Yet still to itself it doth say;

‘I should have loved far better

To have found; coming in to…day;

The merest scrap of a letter。'







IN TIME OF SORROW







Despair is in the suns that shine;

And in the rains that fall;

This sad forsaken soul of mine

Is weary of them all。



They fall and shine on alien streets

From those I love and know。

I cannot hear amid the heats

The North Sea's freshening flow



The people hurry up and down;

Like ghosts that cannot lie;

And wandering through the phantom town

The weariest ghost am I。







A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNEFROM VICTOR HUGO







If a pleasant lawn there grow

By the showers caressed;

Where in all the seasons blow

Flowers gaily dressed;

Where by handfuls one may win

Lilies; woodbine; jessamine;

I will make a path therein

For thy feet to rest。



If there live in honour's sway

An all…loving breast

Whose devotion cannot stray;

Never gloom…oppressed …

If this noble breast still wake

For a worthy motive's sake;

There a pillow I will make

For thy head to rest。



If there be a dream of love;

Dream that God has blest;

Yielding daily treasure…trove

Of delightful zest;

With the scent of roses filled;

With the soul's communion thrilled;

There; oh! there a nest I'll build

For thy heart to rest。







THE FIDDLER







There's a fiddler in the street;

And the children all are dancing:

Two dozen lightsome feet

Springing and prancing。



Pleasure he gives to you;

Dance then; and spare not!

For the poor fiddler's due;

Know not and care not。



While you are prancing;

Let the fiddler play。

When you're tired of dancing

He may go away。







THE FIRST MEETING







Last night for the first time; O Heart's Delight;

I held your hand a moment in my own;

The dearest moment which my soul has known;

Since I beheld and loved you at first sight。



I left you; and I wandered in the night;

Under the rain; beside the ocean's moan。

All was black dark; but in the north alone

There was a glimmer of the Northern Light。



My heart was singing like a happy bird;

Glad of the present; and from forethought free;

Save for one note amid its music heard:

God grant; whatever end of this may be;

That when the tale is told; the final word

May be of peace and benison to thee。







A CRITICISM OF CRITICS







How often have the critics; trained

To look upon the sky

Through telescopes securely chained;

Forgot the naked eye。



Within the compass of their glass

Each smallest star they knew;

And not a meteor could pass

But they were looking through。



When a new planet shed its rays

Beyond their field of vision;

And simple folk ran out to gaze;

They laughed in high derision。



They railed upon the senseless throng

Who cheered the brave new light。

And yet the learned men were wrong;

The simple folk were right。







MY LADY







My Lady of all ladies!  Queen by right

Of tender beauty; full of gentle moods;

With eyes that look divine beatitudes;

Large eyes illumined with her spirit's light;



Lips that are lovely both by sound and sight;

Breathing such music as the dove; which broods

Within the dark and silence of the woods;

Croons to the mate that is her heart's delight。



Where is a line; in cloud or wave or hill;

To match the curve which rounds her soft…flushed cheek?

A colour; in the sky of morn or of even;

To match that flush?  Ah; let me now be still!

If of her spirit I should strive to speak;

I should come short; as earth comes short of heaven。







PARTNERSHIP IN FAME







Love; when the present is become the past;

And dust has covered all that now is new;

When many a fame has faded out of view;

And many a later fame is fading fast …



If then these songs of mine might hope to last;

Which sing most sweetly when they sing of you;

Though queen and empress wore oblivion's hue;

Your loveliness would not be overcast。



Now; while the present stays with you and me;

In love's copartnery our hearts combine;

Life's loss and gain in equal shares to take。

Partners in fame our memories then would be:

Your name remembered for my songs; and mine

Still unforgotten for your sweetness' sake。







A CHRISTMAS FANCY







Early on Christmas Day;

Love; as awake I lay;

And heard the Christmas bells ring sweet and clearly;

My heart stole through the gloom

Into your silent room;

And whispered to your heart; ‘I love you dearly。'



There; in the dark profound;

Your heart was sleeping sound;

And dreaming some fair dream of summer weather。

At my heart's word it woke;

And; ere the morning broke;

They sang a Christmas carol both together。



Glory to God on high!

Stars of the morning sky;

Sing as ye sang upon the first creation;

When all the Sons of God

Shouted for joy abroad;

And earth was laid upon a sure foundation。



Glory to God again!

Peace and goodwill to men;

And kindly feeling all the wide world over;

Where friends with joy and mirth

Meet round the Christmas hearth;

Or dreams of home the solitary rover。



Glory to God!  True hearts;

Lo; now the dark departs;

And morning on the snow…clad hills grows grey。

Oh; may love's dawning light

Kindled from loveless night;

Shine more and more unto the perfect day!







THE BURIAL OF WILLIAMTHE CONQUEROR







Oh; who may this dead warrior be

That to his grave they bring?

‘Tis William; Duke of Normandy;

The conqueror and king。



Across the sea; with fire and sword;

The English crown he won;

The lawless Scots they owned him lord;

But now his rule is done。



A king should die from length of years;

A conqueror in the field;

A king amid his people's tears;

A conqueror on his shield。



But he; who ruled by sword and flame;

Who swore to ravage France;

Like some poor serf without a name;

Has died by mere mischance。



To Caen now he comes to sleep;

The minster bells they toll;

A solemn sound it is and deep;

May God receive his soul!



With priests that chant a wailing hymn;

He slowly comes this way;

To where the painted windows dim

The lively light of day。



He enters in。  The townsfolk stand

In reverent silence round;

To see the lord of all the land

Take house in narrow ground。



While; in the dwelling…place he seeks;

To lay him they prepare;

One Asselin FitzArthur speaks;

And bids the priests forbear。



‘The ground whereon this abbey stands

Is mine;' he cries; ‘by right。

‘Twas wrested from my father's hands

By lawlessness and might。



Duke William took the land away;

To build this minster high。

Bury the robber where ye may;

But here he shall not lie。'



The hol

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