Poems

Backward betwixt the gates of steepest heaven,
Faint from the insupportable advance
Of light confederate in the East, is driven

The starry chivalry, and helm and lance,
Which held keen ward upon the shadowy plain,
Yield to the stress and stern predominance

Of Day; no wanderer morning-moon awane
Floats through dishevelled clouds, exanimate,
In disarray, with gaze of weariest pain;

O thou, sole Splendour, sprung to vindicate
Night’s ancient fame, thou in dread strife serene,
With back-blown locks, joyous yet desperate

Flamest; from whose pure ardour Earth doth win
High passionate pangs, thou radiant paladin.

II

Nay; strife must cease in song: far-sent and clear
Piercing the silence of this summer morn
I hear thy swan-song rapturous; I hear

Life’s ecstasy; sharp cries of flames which burn
With palpitating joy, intense and pure,
From altars of the universe, and yearn

In eager spires; and under these the sure
Strong ecstasy of Death, in phrase too deep
For thought, too bright for dim investiture.

Of mortal words, and sinking more than sleep
Down holier places of the soul’s delight;
Cry, through the quickening dawn, to us who creep

’Mid dreams and dews of the dividing night,
Thou searcher of the darkness and the light.

III

I seek thee, and thou art not; for the sky
Has drawn thee in upon her breast to be
A hidden talisman, while light soars high,

Virtuous to make wide heaven’s tranquillity
More tranquil, and her steadfast truth more true,
Yea even her overbowed infinity.

Of tenderness, when o’er wet woods the blue
Shows past white edges of a sundering cloud,
More infinitely tender. Day is new,

Night ended; how the hills are overflowed
With spaciousness of splendour, and each tree
Is touched; only not yet the lark is loud,

Since viewless still o’er city and plain and sea
Vibrates thy spirit-wingèd ecstasy.

A CHILD’S NOONDAY SLEEP

Because you sleep, my child, with breathing light
As heave of the June sea,
Because your lips soft petals dewy-bright
Dispart so tenderly;

Because the slumbrous warmth is on your cheek
Up from the hushed heart sent,
And in this midmost noon when winds are weak
No cloud lies more content;

Because nor song of bird, nor lamb’s keen call
May reach you sunken deep,
Because your lifted arm I thus let fall
Heavy with perfect sleep;

Because all will is drawn from you, all power,
And Nature through dark roots
Will hold and nourish you for one sweet hour
Amid her flowers and fruits;

Therefore though tempests gather, and the gale
Through autumn skies will roar,
Though Earth send up to heaven the ancient wail
Heard by dead Gods of yore;

Though spectral faiths contend, and for her course
The soul confused must try,
While through the whirl of atoms and of force
Looms an abandoned sky;

Yet, know I, Peace abides, of earth’s wild things
Centre, and ruling thence;
Behold, a spirit folds her budded wings
In confident innocence.

IN THE GARDEN