Blooms of the Berry

Автор

Madison Cawein

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Зарубежная классика

Год написания книги

2017

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If they found me icy there
'Mid the lilies and pale whorls
Of the cresses in my curls
Wet of raven hair —

Fool and coward! are you such?
Would you have him thus to know
That you died for utter woe
And despair o'ermuch?

No! my face a marble bust!
As the Sphynx, impassioned, stern! —
Passions hid, as in an urn,
Burnt to bitter dust!

And I'll write him as he wrote,
Making, with his worded scorn,
Tyrant, – crowned with stinging thorn, —
His cold, cruel note.

"You'll forget," he says, "and I
Feel 'tis better for us twain:
It may give you some small pain,
But, 'twill soon be by.

"You are dark, and Maud is light;
I am dark; and it is said
Opposites are better wed; —
So I think I'm right."

"You are dark and Maud is fair!"
I could laugh at this excuse
If this aching, mad abuse
Were not more than hair!

But I'll write him as a-glad
Some few happy words and light,
Touching on some past delight,
That last year we had.

Not one line of broken vows,
Sighs or hurtful tears unshed,
Faithless lips far better dead,
Nor a withered rose.

But a rose, this Perle to wear, —
Perle des Jardins delicate
With faint fragrant life elate, —
When he weds her there.

So; 'tis finished! It is well!
Go, thou rose! I have no tear,
Kiss, or word for thee to bear,
And no woe to tell.

Only be thus full of life,
Cold and calm, impassionate,
Filled with neither love nor hate,
When he calls her wife!

OSSIAN'S POEMS

Here I have heard on hills the battle clash
Roar to the windy sea that roared again:
When, drunk with wrath, upon the clanking plain
Barbaric kings did meet in war and dash
Their mailéd thousands down, heard onset crash
Like crags contending 'gainst the battering main.
Torrents of helms, beaming like streams of rain,
Blue-billowing 'neath the pale moon's fitful flash;
Saw the scared moon hang over the black wood
Like a pale wreath of foam; shields, spears, and swords
Shoot green as meteors thro' the steely flood,
Or shine like ripples 'round their heathen lords
Standing like stubborn rocks, whence the wild wave
Of war circled in steel and foamed out brave on brave.

II. – IN MYTHIC SEAS

IN MYTHIC SEAS

'Neath saffron stars and satin skies, dark-blue,
Between dim sylvan isles, a happy two.
We sailed, and from the siren-haunted shore,
All mystic in its mist, the soft gale bore
The Siren's song, while on the ghostly steeps
Strange foliage grew, deeps folding upon deeps,
That hung and beamed with blossom and with bud,
Thick-powdered, pallid, or like urns of blood
Dripping, and blowing from wide mouths of blooms
On our bare brows cool gales of sweet perfumes.
While from the yellow stars that splashed the skies
O'er our light shallop dropped soft mysteries
Of calm and sleep, until the yellower moon
Rose full of fire above a dark lagoon;
And as she rose the nightingales on sprays
Of heavy, shadowy roses burst in praise
Of her wild loveliness, with boisterous pain
Wailing far off around a ruined fane.