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Song-Surf
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And the hills are dark
And the skies are gray.
What do I care for chill in the air
For crows that cark
At the rough wind's way.
What do I care for the dead leaves there —
Or the sullen road
By the sullen wood.
There's heart in my heart
To bear my load!
So enough, the day is good!
BY THE INDUS
Thou art late, O Moon,
Late,
I have waited thee long.
The nightingale's flown to her nest,
Sated with song.
The champak hath no odour more
To pour on the wind as he passeth o'er —
But my heart it will not rest.
Thou art late, O Love,
Late,
For the moon is a-wane.
The kusa-grass sighs with my sighs,
Burns with my pain.
The lotus leans her head on the stream —
Shall I not lean to thy breast and dream,
Dream ere the night-cool dies?
Thou art late, O Death,
Late,
For he did not come!
A pariah is my heart,
Cast from him – dumb!
I cannot cry in the jungle's deep —
Is it not time for the Tomb – and Sleep?
O Death, strike with thy dart!
EVOCATION
(Nikko, Japan, 1905)
Dim thro' the mist and cryptomeria
Booms the temple bell,
Down from the tomb of Iêyasü
Yearning, as a knell.
Down from the tomb where many an æon
Silently has knelt;
Many a pilgrimage of millions —
Still about it felt.
Still, for I see them gather ghostly
Now, as the numb sound
Floats, an unearthly necromancy,
From the past's dead ground.
See the invisible vast millions,
Hear their soundless feet
Climbing the shrine-ways to the gilded
Carven temple's seat.
And, one among them – pale among them —
Passes waning by.
What is it tells me mystically
That strange one was I?..
Weird thro' the mist and cryptomeria
Dies the bell – 'tis dumb.
After how many lives returning
Shall I hither come?
Hither again! and climb the votive
Ever mossy ways?
Who shall the gods be then, the millions
Meek, entreat or praise?
THE CHILD GOD GAVE
"Give me a little child
To draw this dreary want out of my breast,"
I cried to God.
"Give, for my days beat wild
With loneliness that will not rest
But under the still sod!"
It came – with groping lips
And little fingers stealing aimlessly
About my heart.
I was like one who slips
A-sudden into Ecstasy
And thinks ne'er to depart.
"Soon he will smile," I said,
And the skies are gray.
What do I care for chill in the air
For crows that cark
At the rough wind's way.
What do I care for the dead leaves there —
Or the sullen road
By the sullen wood.
There's heart in my heart
To bear my load!
So enough, the day is good!
BY THE INDUS
Thou art late, O Moon,
Late,
I have waited thee long.
The nightingale's flown to her nest,
Sated with song.
The champak hath no odour more
To pour on the wind as he passeth o'er —
But my heart it will not rest.
Thou art late, O Love,
Late,
For the moon is a-wane.
The kusa-grass sighs with my sighs,
Burns with my pain.
The lotus leans her head on the stream —
Shall I not lean to thy breast and dream,
Dream ere the night-cool dies?
Thou art late, O Death,
Late,
For he did not come!
A pariah is my heart,
Cast from him – dumb!
I cannot cry in the jungle's deep —
Is it not time for the Tomb – and Sleep?
O Death, strike with thy dart!
EVOCATION
(Nikko, Japan, 1905)
Dim thro' the mist and cryptomeria
Booms the temple bell,
Down from the tomb of Iêyasü
Yearning, as a knell.
Down from the tomb where many an æon
Silently has knelt;
Many a pilgrimage of millions —
Still about it felt.
Still, for I see them gather ghostly
Now, as the numb sound
Floats, an unearthly necromancy,
From the past's dead ground.
See the invisible vast millions,
Hear their soundless feet
Climbing the shrine-ways to the gilded
Carven temple's seat.
And, one among them – pale among them —
Passes waning by.
What is it tells me mystically
That strange one was I?..
Weird thro' the mist and cryptomeria
Dies the bell – 'tis dumb.
After how many lives returning
Shall I hither come?
Hither again! and climb the votive
Ever mossy ways?
Who shall the gods be then, the millions
Meek, entreat or praise?
THE CHILD GOD GAVE
"Give me a little child
To draw this dreary want out of my breast,"
I cried to God.
"Give, for my days beat wild
With loneliness that will not rest
But under the still sod!"
It came – with groping lips
And little fingers stealing aimlessly
About my heart.
I was like one who slips
A-sudden into Ecstasy
And thinks ne'er to depart.
"Soon he will smile," I said,
Другие электронные книги автора Cale Rice
Последний отзыв
Да, первый рассказ из сборника, что я успела прочитать, что надо! И написано хорошо, и содержание необычное, но жизненное. Очень понравилось, хотя там...
Далее