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anthology of massachusetts poets-第4部分
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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 child。
My heart turns crying from the rose and book;
My heart turns crying from the thin bright moon;
And weeps with useless sorrow for the child。
The Moods have loosed a wind to vex my hair;
And made my heart too wise; that was a child。
Now I shall blow like smitten candle…flame:
I shall desire all things that may not be:
The years; the stars; the souls of ancient men;
All tears that must; and smiles that may not be;
Yes; glimmering lights across a windy ford;
And vagrant voices on a darkened plain;
And holy things; and outcast things; and things;
Far too remote; frail…bodied to be plain。
My pity and my joy are grown alike。
I cannot sweep the strangeness from my heart。
The Moods have laid swift hands across my hair:
The Moods have drawn swift fingers through my heart。
FANNIE STEARNS DAVIS
HILL…FANTASY
SITTETH by the red cairn a brown One; a
hoofed One;
High upon the mountain; where the grasses fail。
Where the ash…trees flourish far their blazing
Bunches to the sun;
A brown One; a hoofed One; pipes against the gale。
Up scrambled I then; furry fingers helping me。
I was on the mountain; wandering; wandering;
No one but the pine trees and the white birch knew。
Over rocks I scrambled; looked up and saw that
Strange Thing;
Peaked ears and sharp horns; pricked against the
blue。
Oh; and; how he piped there! piped upon the high
reeds
Till the blue air crackled like a frost…film on a pool!
Oh; and how he spread himself; like a child whom
no one heeds;
Tumbled chuckling in the brook; all sleek and kind
and cool!
He had berries 'twixt his horns; crimson…red as
cochineal。;
Bobbing; wagging wantonly they tickled him; and oh;
How his deft lips puckered round the reed;
seemed to chase and steal
Sky…music; earth…music; tree…music low!
I said 〃Good…day; Thou!〃 He said; 〃Good…day;
Thou!〃
Wiped his reed against the spotted doe…skin on his back;
He said; 〃Come up here; and I will teach thee piping
now。
While the earth is singing so; for tunes we shall not
Lack。〃
Up scrambled I then; furry fingers helping me。
Up scrambled I。 So we sat beside the cairn。
Broad into my face laughed that horned Thing so
Naughtily。
Oh; it was a rascal of a woodland Satyr's bairn!
'So blow; and so; Thou! Move thy fingers faster; look!
Move them like the little leaves and whirling midges。
So!
Soon ‘twill twist like tendrils and out…twinkle like
the lost brook。
Move thy fingers merrily; and blow! Blow! Blow!〃
Brown One! Hoofed One! Beat time to keep me
Straight。
Kick it on the red stone; whistle in my ear。
Brush thy crimson berries in my face; then hold
Thy breath; for…wait!
Joy comes bubbling to me lips。 I pipe; oh; hear!
Blue sky; art glad of us? Green wood; art glad of
us?
Old hard…heart mountain; dost thou hear me; how
I blow?
Far away the sea…isles swim in sun…haze luminous。
Each one has a color like the seven…splendor bow。
Wind; wind; wind; dost thou mind me how I pipe;
Now?
Chipmunk chatt'ring in the beech; rabbit in the
brake?
Furry arm around my neck: 〃Oh; Thou art a brave
one; Thou!〃
Satyr; little satyr…friend; my heart with joy doth
ache !
Sky…music; earth…music; tree…music tremulous;
Water over steaming rocks; water in the shade;
Storm…tune and sun…tune; how they flock up unto us;
Sitting by the red cairn; gay and unafraid!
Brown One; Hoofed One; give me nimble hoofs;
Thou!
Give me furry fingers and a secret furry tail!
Pleasant are thy smooth horns: if their like were
on my brow
Might I not abide here; till the strong sun fail?
Oh; the sorry brown eyes! Oh; the soft kind hand…
touch;
Sudden brush of velvet ears across my wind…cool
cheek!
〃Play…mate; Pipe…mate; thou askest one good boon
too much。
I could never find thee horns; though day…long
I seek。
〃Yet; keep the pipe; Thou: I will cut an
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