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Lays and Legends (Second Series)
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Where the winds and the plovers cry,
And no man is at hand.
And feel the free wind blow
On my rain-wet face, and know
I am free – not yours – but my own.
Free – and alone!
For the soft fire-light
And the home of your heart, my dear,
They hurt – being always here.
I want to stand up – upright
And to cool my eyes in the air
And to see how my back can bear
Burdens – to try, to know,
To learn, to grow!
I am only you!
I am yours – part of you – your wife!
And I have no other life.
I cannot think, cannot do,
I cannot breathe, cannot see;
There is "us," but there is not "me" —
And worst, at your kiss, I grow
Contented so.
THE LIGHTHOUSE
Above the rocks, above the waves
Shines the strong light that warns and saves.
So you, too high for storm or strife,
Light up the shipwreck of my life.
The lighthouse warns the wise, but these
Not only sail the stormy seas;
Towards the light the foolish steer
And, drowning, read its meaning, dear.
And, if the lamp by chance allure
Some foolish ship to death, be sure
The lamp will to itself protest:
"His be the blame! I did my best!"
TO A YOUNG POET
Tired of work? Then drop away
From the land of cheerful day!
Pen the muse, and drive the pen
If you'd stay with living men.
Fancy fails? Then pluck from those
Gardens where her blossom blows;
Trim the buds and wire them well,
And your bouquet's sure to sell.
Write, write, write! Produce, produce!
Write for sale, and not for use.
This is a commercial age!
Write! and fill your ledger page.
If your soul should droop and die,
Bury it with undimmed eye.
Never mind what memory says —
Soul's a thing that never pays!
THE TEMPTATION
Let me go! I cannot be
All you think me, pure and true:
Those brave jewel-names crown you,
They were trampled down by me.
Horrid ghosts rise up between
You and me; I dare not pass!
What might be is dead; what was
Is its poison, O my Queen!
I should wither up your life,
Blacken, blight its maiden flower;
You would live to curse the hour
When you made yourself my wife.
Yet, your hand held out, your eyes
Pleading, longing, brimmed with tears …
I have lived in hell for years:
Do not show me Paradise.
Lest I answer: "Take me, then!
Take me, save me if you can,
Worse than any other man,
Loving more than other men."
THE BALLAD OF SIR HUGH
The castle had been held in siege,
While thrice three weeks went past,
And still the foe no vantage gained
And still our men stood fast.
We held the castle for our king
Against our foes and his;
And no man is at hand.
And feel the free wind blow
On my rain-wet face, and know
I am free – not yours – but my own.
Free – and alone!
For the soft fire-light
And the home of your heart, my dear,
They hurt – being always here.
I want to stand up – upright
And to cool my eyes in the air
And to see how my back can bear
Burdens – to try, to know,
To learn, to grow!
I am only you!
I am yours – part of you – your wife!
And I have no other life.
I cannot think, cannot do,
I cannot breathe, cannot see;
There is "us," but there is not "me" —
And worst, at your kiss, I grow
Contented so.
THE LIGHTHOUSE
Above the rocks, above the waves
Shines the strong light that warns and saves.
So you, too high for storm or strife,
Light up the shipwreck of my life.
The lighthouse warns the wise, but these
Not only sail the stormy seas;
Towards the light the foolish steer
And, drowning, read its meaning, dear.
And, if the lamp by chance allure
Some foolish ship to death, be sure
The lamp will to itself protest:
"His be the blame! I did my best!"
TO A YOUNG POET
Tired of work? Then drop away
From the land of cheerful day!
Pen the muse, and drive the pen
If you'd stay with living men.
Fancy fails? Then pluck from those
Gardens where her blossom blows;
Trim the buds and wire them well,
And your bouquet's sure to sell.
Write, write, write! Produce, produce!
Write for sale, and not for use.
This is a commercial age!
Write! and fill your ledger page.
If your soul should droop and die,
Bury it with undimmed eye.
Never mind what memory says —
Soul's a thing that never pays!
THE TEMPTATION
Let me go! I cannot be
All you think me, pure and true:
Those brave jewel-names crown you,
They were trampled down by me.
Horrid ghosts rise up between
You and me; I dare not pass!
What might be is dead; what was
Is its poison, O my Queen!
I should wither up your life,
Blacken, blight its maiden flower;
You would live to curse the hour
When you made yourself my wife.
Yet, your hand held out, your eyes
Pleading, longing, brimmed with tears …
I have lived in hell for years:
Do not show me Paradise.
Lest I answer: "Take me, then!
Take me, save me if you can,
Worse than any other man,
Loving more than other men."
THE BALLAD OF SIR HUGH
The castle had been held in siege,
While thrice three weeks went past,
And still the foe no vantage gained
And still our men stood fast.
We held the castle for our king
Against our foes and his;
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Последний отзыв
Книгу прочитать не могу, везде ЛитРес свой нос сунул, как и где скачать полную версию бесплатно!?!?