The Little Book of Modern Verse Part 10

Golden Pulse. [John Myers O'Hara]

Golden pulse grew on the sh.o.r.e, Ferns along the hill, And the red cliff roses bore Bees to drink their fill;

Bees that from the meadows bring Wine of melilot, Honey-sups on golden wing To the garden grot.

But to me, neglected flower, Phaon will not see, Pa.s.sion brings no crowning hour, Honey nor the bee.

Sappho. [Sara Teasdale]

The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep, And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea, The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees.

Twilight has veiled the little flower face Here on my heart, but still the night is kind And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast.

Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk Along the surges creeping up the sh.o.r.e When tides came in to ease the hungry beach, And running, running, till the night was black, Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand And quiver with the winds from off the sea?

Ah, quietly the s.h.i.+ngle waits the tides Whose waves are stinging kisses, but to me Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest.

I crept and touched the foam with fevered hands And cried to Love, from whom the sea is sweet, From whom the sea is bitterer than death.

Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more To thee, G.o.d's daughter, powerful as G.o.d, It is that thou hast made my life too sweet To hold the added sweetness of a song.

There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.

I hold my peace, my Cleis, on my heart; And softer than a little wild bird's wing Are kisses that she pours upon my mouth.

Ah, never any more when spring like fire Will flicker in the newly opened leaves, Shall I steal forth to seek for solitude Beyond the lure of light Alcaeus' lyre, Beyond the sob that stilled Erinna's voice.

Ah, never with a throat that aches with song, Beneath the white uncaring sky of spring, Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love The quiver and the crying of my heart.

Still I remember how I strove to flee The love-note of the birds, and bowed my head To hurry faster, but upon the ground I saw two winged shadows side by side, And all the world's spring pa.s.sion stifled me.

Ah, Love, there is no fleeing from thy might, No lonely place where thou hast never trod, No desert thou hast left uncarpeted With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet.

In many guises didst thou come to me; I saw thee by the maidens while they danced, Phaon allured me with a look of thine, In Anactoria I knew thy grace, I looked at Cercolas and saw thine eyes; But never wholly, soul and body mine, Didst thou bid any love me as I loved.

Now I have found the peace that fled from me; Close, close, against my heart I hold my world.

Ah, Love that made my life a lyric cry, Ah, Love that tuned my lips to lyres of thine, I taught the world thy music, now alone I sing for one who falls asleep to hear.

Harps hung up in Babylon. [Arthur Colton]

The harps hung up in Babylon, Their loosened strings rang on, sang on, And cast their murmurs forth upon The roll and roar of Babylon: "~Forget me, Lord, if I forget Jerusalem for Babylon, If I forget the vision set High as the head of Lebanon Is lifted over Syria yet, If I forget and bow me down To brutish G.o.ds of Babylon.~"

Two rivers to each other run In the very midst of Babylon, And swifter than their current fleets The restless river of the streets Of Babylon, of Babylon, And Babylon's towers smite the sky, But higher reeks to G.o.d most high The smoke of her iniquity: "~But oh, betwixt the green and blue To walk the hills that once we knew When you were pure and I was true,~" -- So rang the harps in Babylon -- "~Or ere along the roads of stone Had led us captive one by one The subtle G.o.ds of Babylon.~"

The harps hung up in Babylon Hung silent till the prophet dawn, When Judah's feet the highway burned Back to the holy hills returned, And shook their dust on Babylon.

In Zion's halls the wild harps rang, To Zion's walls their smitten clang, And lo! of Babylon they sang, They only sang of Babylon: "~Jehovah, round whose throne of awe The va.s.sal stars their orbits draw Within the circle of Thy law, Canst thou make nothing what is done, Or cause Thy servant to be one That has not been in Babylon, That has not known the power and pain Of life poured out like driven rain?

I will go down and find again My soul that's lost in Babylon.~"

Live blindly. [Trumbull Stickney]

Live blindly and upon the hour. The Lord, Who was the Future, died full long ago.

Knowledge which is the Past is folly. Go, Poor child, and be not to thyself abhorred.

Around thine earth sun-winged winds do blow And planets roll; a meteor draws his sword; The rainbow breaks his seven-coloured chord And the long strips of river-silver flow: Awake! Give thyself to the lovely hours.

Drinking their lips, catch thou the dream in flight About their fragile hairs' aerial gold.

Thou art divine, thou livest, -- as of old Apollo springing naked to the light, And all his island s.h.i.+vered into flowers.

Love's Springtide. [Frank Dempster Sherman]

My heart was winter-bound until I heard you sing; O voice of Love, hush not, but fill My life with Spring!

My hopes were homeless things before I saw your eyes; O smile of Love, close not the door To paradise!

My dreams were bitter once, and then I found them bliss; O lips of Love, give me again Your rose to kiss!

Springtide of Love! The secret sweet Is ours alone; O heart of Love, at last you beat Against my own!

Wanderers. [George Sylvester Viereck]

Sweet is the highroad when the skylarks call, When we and Love go rambling through the land.

But shall we still walk gayly, hand in hand, At the road's turning and the twilight's fall?

Then darkness shall divide us like a wall, And uncouth evil nightbirds flap their wings; The solitude of all created things Will creep upon us shuddering like a pall.

This is the knowledge I have wrung from pain: We, yea, all lovers, are not one, but twain, Each by strange wisps to strange abysses drawn; But through the black immensity of night Love's little lantern, like a glowworm's, bright, May lead our steps to some stupendous dawn.

Ballade of my Lady's Beauty. [Joyce Kilmer]

Squire Adam had two wives, they say, Two wives had he, for his delight, He kissed and clypt them all the day And clypt and kissed them all the night.