Heaven awhile, for all the wrath of waking
Wind and sea.
Bright with glad mad rapture, fierce with glee,
Laughs the moon, borne on past cloud’s o’ertaking
Fast, it seems, as wind or sail can flee.
One blown sail beneath her, hardly making
Forth, wild-winged for harbourage yet to be,
Strives and leaps and pants beneath the breaking
Wind and sea.
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WHATEVER a man of the sons of men
They have shown man verily, once and again,Marvellous mercies and infinite love.In the wild fifth year of the change of things,When France was glorious and blood-red, fairWith dust of battle and deaths of kings,A queen of men, with helmeted hair,Carrier came down to the Loire and slew,Till all the ways and the waves waxed red:Bound…
At the chill high tide of the night,
When the waters of time are at height,In a vision arose on my sightThe kingdoms of earth and the powers.In a dream without lightening of eyesI saw them, children of earth,Nations and races arise,Each one after his wise,Signed with the sign of his birth.Sound was none of their feet,Light was none of their faces;In their…
I.
Thronging the ways of the wind that shifts and veers,Pass, and the flames of remembered fires requickenYears upon years.Surely the thought in a man’s heart hopes or fearsNow that forgetfulness needs must here have strickenAnguish, and sweetened the sealed-up springs of tears.Ah, but the strength of regrets that strain and sicken,Yearning for love that the…
Death, from thy rigour a voice appealed,
Crying aloud in thine ears fast sealed,Death.As a voice in a vision that vanisheth,Through the grave’s gate barred and the portal steeledThe sound of the wail of it travelleth.Wailing aloud from a heart unhealed,It woke response of melodious breathFrom lips now too by thy kiss congealed,DeathII.Ages ago, from the lips of a sad glad poetWhose…
Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark,
None that pass by him pause to markDead love.His heart, that strained and yearned and stroveAs toward the sundawn strives the lark,Is cold as all the old joy thereof.Dead men, re-risen from dust, may harkWhen rings the trumpet blown above:It will not raise from out the darkDead love.
Love lies bleeding in the bed whereover
Earth lies laughing where the sun’s dart clove her:Love lies bleeding.Stately shine his purple plumes, exceedingPride of princes: nor shall maid or loverFind on earth a fairer sign worth heeding.Yet may love, sore wounded scarce recoverStrength and spirit again, with life receding:Hope and joy, wind-winged, about him hover:Love lies bleeding.