Georgian Poetry 1920-22 Part 4

THE TRUTH

Since I have seen a bird one day, His head pecked more than half away; That hopped about, with but one eye, Ready to fight again, and die-- Ofttimes since then their private lives Have spoilt that joy their music gives.

So when I see this robin now, Like a red apple on the bough, And question why he sings so strong, For love, or for the love of song; Or sings, maybe, for that sweet rill Whose silver tongue is never still--

Ah, now there comes this thought unkind, Born of the knowledge in my mind: He sings in triumph that last night He killed his father in a fight; And now he'll take his mother's blood-- The last strong rival for his food.

WALTER DE LA MARE

THE MOTH

Isled in the midnight air, Musked with the dark's faint bloom, Out into glooming and secret haunts The flame cries, 'Come!'

Lovely in dye and fan, A-tremble in s.h.i.+mmering grace, A moth from her winter swoon Uplifts her face:

Stares from her glamorous eyes; Wafts her on plumes like mist; In ecstasy swirls and sways To her strange tryst.

'SOTTO VOCE'

(To EDWARD THOMAS)

The haze of noon wanned silver-grey, The soundless mansion of the sun; The air made visible in his ray, Like molten gla.s.s from furnace run, Quivered o'er heat-baked turf and stone And the flower of the gorse burned on-- Burned softly as gold of a child's fair hair Along each spiky spray, and shed Almond-like incense in the air Whereon our senses fed.

At foot--a few spa.r.s.e harebells: blue And still as were the friend's dark eyes That dwelt on mine, transfixed through With sudden ecstatic surmise.

'Hst!' he cried softly, smiling, and lo, Stealing amidst that maze gold-green, I heard a whispering music flow From guileful throat of bird, unseen:-- So delicate, the straining ear Scarce carried its faint syllabling Into a heart caught-up to hear That inmost pondering Of bird-like self with self. We stood, In happy trance-like solitude, Hearkening a lullay grieved and sweet-- As when on isle uncharted beat 'Gainst coral at the palm-tree's root, With brine-clear, snow-white foam afloat, The wailing, not of water or wind-- A husht, far, wild, divine lament, When Prospero his wizardry bent Winged Ariel to bind....

Then silence, and o'er-flooding noon.

I raised my head; smiled too. And he-- Moved his great hand, the magic gone-- Gently amused to see My ignorant wonderment. He sighed.

'It was a nightingale,' he said, 'That _sotto voce_ cons the song He'll sing when dark is spread; And Night's vague hours are sweet and long, And we are laid abed.'

SEPHINA

Black lacqueys at the wide-flung door Stand mute as men of wood.

Gleams like a pool the ballroom floor-- A burnished solitude.

A hundred waxen tapers s.h.i.+ne From silver sconces; softly pine 'Cello, fiddle, mandoline, To music deftly wooed-- And dancers in cambric, satin, silk, With glancing hair and cheeks like milk, Wreathe, curtsey, intertwine.

The drowse of roses lulls the air Wafted up the marble stair.

Like warbling water clucks the talk.

From room to room in splendour walk Guests, smiling in the aery sheen; Carmine and azure, white and green, They stoop and languish, pace and preen Bare shoulder, painted fan, Gemmed wrist and finger, neck of swan; And still the pluckt strings warble on; Still from the snow-bowered, link-lit street The m.u.f.fled hooves of horses beat; And harness rings; and foam-fleckt bit Clanks as the slim heads toss and stare From deep, dark eyes. Smiling, at ease, Mount to the porch the pomped grandees In lonely state, by twos, and threes, Exchanging languid courtesies, While torches fume and flare.

And now the banquet calls. A blare Of squalling trumpets clots the air.

And, flocking out, streams up the rout; And lilies nod to velvet's swish; And peac.o.c.ks prim on gilded dish, Vast pies thick-glazed, and gaping fish, Towering confections crisp as ice, Jellies aglare like c.o.c.katrice, With thousand savours tongues entice.

Fruits of all hues barbaric gloom-- Pomegranate, quince and peach and plum, Mandarine, grape, and cherry clear Englobe each gla.s.sy chandelier, Where nectarous flowers their sweets distil-- Jessamine, tuberose, chamomill, Wild-eye narcissus, anemone, Tendril of ivy and vinery.

Now odorous wines the goblets fill; Gold-cradled meats the menials bear From gilded chair to gilded chair: Now roars the talk like cras.h.i.+ng seas, Foams upward to the painted frieze, Echoes and ebbs. Still surges in, To yelp of hautboy and violin, Plumed and bedazzling, rosed and rare, Dance-bemused, with cheek aglow, Stooping the green-twined portal through, Sighing with laughter, debonair, That concourse of the proud and fair-- And lo! 'La, la!

Mamma ... Mamma!'

Falls a small cry in the dark and calls-- 'I see you standing there!'

Fie, fie, Sephina! not in bed!

Crouched on the staircase overhead, Like ghost she gloats, her lean hand laid On alabaster bal.u.s.trade, And gazes on and on Down on that wondrous to and fro Till finger and foot are cold as snow, And half the night is gone; And dazzled eyes are sore bestead; Nods drowsily the sleek-locked head; And, vague and far, spins, fading out, That rainbow-coloured, reeling rout, And, with faint sighs, her spirit flies Into deep sleep....

Come, Stranger, peep!

Was ever cheek so wan?

THE t.i.tMOUSE

If you would happy company win, Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, Idly in green to sway and spin, Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; and see, A nimble t.i.tmouse enter in.

Out of earth's vast unknown of air, Out of all summer, from wave to wave, He'll perch, and prank his feathers fair, Jangle a gla.s.s-clear wildering stave, And take his commons there--

This tiny son of life; this spright, By momentary Human sought, Plume will his wing in the dappling light, Clash timbrel shrill and gay-- And into time's enormous nought, Sweet-fed, will flit away.

SUPPOSE

Suppose ... and suppose that a wild little Horse of Magic Came cantering out of the sky, With bridle of silver, and into the saddle I mounted, To fly--and to fly;

And we stretched up into the air, fleeting on in the suns.h.i.+ne, A speck in the gleam, On galloping hoofs, his mane in the wind out-flowing, In a shadowy stream;

And oh, when, all lone, the gentle star of evening Came crinkling into the blue, A magical castle we saw in the air, like a cloud of moonlight, As onward we flew;

And across the green moat on the drawbridge we foamed and we snorted, And there was a beautiful Queen Who smiled at me strangely; and spoke to my wild little Horse, too-- A lovely and beautiful Queen;

And she cried with delight--and delight--to her delicate maidens, 'Behold my daughter--my dear!'

And they crowned me with flowers, and then to their harps sate playing, Solemn and clear;

And magical cakes and goblets were spread on the table; And at window the birds came in; Hopping along with bright eyes, pecking crumbs from the platters, And sipped of the wine;