Contemporary Belgian Poetry Part 35

LEST ANYTHING ESCAPE FROM OUR EMBRACE.

Lest anything escape from our embrace, Which is as sacred as a Temple's holy place, And so that the bright love pierce with light the body's mesh, Together we descend into the garden of your flesh.

Your b.r.e.a.s.t.s are there like offerings made, You hold your hands out, mine to greet, And nothing can be worth the simple meat Of whisperings in the shade.

The shadow of white boughs caresses Your throat and face, and to the ground The blossoms of your tresses Fall unbound.

All of blue silver is the sky, The night is a silent bed of ease, The gentle night of the moon, whose breeze Kisses the lilies tall and shy.

I BRING TO YOU AS OFFERING TO-NIGHT.

I bring to you as offering to-night My body boisterous with the wind's delight; In floods of sunlight I have bathed my skin; My feet are clean as the gra.s.s they waded in; Soft are my fingers as the flowers they held; My eyes are brightened by the tears that welled Within them, when they looked upon the earth Strong without end and rich with festive mirth; s.p.a.ce in its living arms has s.n.a.t.c.hed me up, And whirled me drunk as from the mad wine-cup; And I have walked I know not where, with pent Cries that would free my heart's wild wonderment; I bring to you the life of meadow-lands; Sweet marjoram and thyme have kissed my hands; Breathe them upon my body, all the fresh Air and its light and scents are in my flesh.

IN THE COTTAGE WHERE OUR PEACEFUL LOVE REPOSES.

In the cottage where our peaceful love reposes, With its dear old furniture in shady nooks, Where never a prying witness on us looks, Save through the cas.e.m.e.nt panes the climbing roses,

So sweet the days are, after olden trial, So sweet with silence is the summer time, I often stay the hour upon the chime In the clock of oak-wood with the golden dial.

And then the day, the night is so much ours, That the hush of happiness around us starts To hear the beating of our clinging hearts, When on your face my kisses fall in showers.

THIS IS THE GOOD HOUR WHEN THE LAMP IS LIT.

This is the good hour when the lamp is lit.

All is calm, and consoling, and dear, And the silence is such that you could hear A feather falling in it.

This is the good hour when to my chair my love will flit, As breezes blow, As smoke will rise, Gentle, slow.

She says nothing at first--and I am listening; I hear all her soul, I surprise Its gus.h.i.+ng and glistening, And I kiss her eyes.

This is the good hour when the lamp is lit.

When hearts will say How they have loved each other through the day.

And one says such simple things: The fruit one from the garden brings; The flower that one has seen Opening in mosses green;

And the heart will of a sudden thrill and glow, Remembering some faded word of love Found in a drawer beneath a cast-off glove In a letter of a year ago.

THE SOVRAN RHYTHM.

Yet, after years and years, to Eve there came Impatience in her soul, and as a blight Of being the sapless, loveless flower of white And torrid happiness that cleaved the same; And once, when in the skies the tempest moved Fain had she risen and its lightning proved.

Then did a sweet, broad shudder glide on her; And, in her deepest flesh to feel it, Eve Pressed her frail hands against her bosom's heave.

The angel, when he felt the sleeper stir With violent abrupt awakening, And scattered air and arms, and body rocked, Questioned the night, but Eve remained unlocked, And silent. He in vain bespoke each thing That lived beside her by the naked sources, Birds, flowers, and mirrors of cold water-courses With which, perchance, her unknown thought arose Up from the ground; and one night when he bowed, And with his reverent fingers sought to close Her eyes, she leapt out of his great wing's shroud.

O fertile folly in its sudden flare Beyond the too pure angel's baffled care!

For while he stretched his arms out she was drifting Already far, and pa.s.sionately lifting To braziers of the stars her body bare.

And all the heart of Adam, seeing her so, Trembled.

She willed to love, he willed to know.

Awkward and shy he neared her, daring not To startle eyes that lost in reveries swam; From terebinths were fluttered scents, and from The soil's fermenting mounted odours hot.

He tarried, as if waiting for her hests; But she s.n.a.t.c.hed up his hands, and o'er them hung, And kissed them slowly, long, with kiss that clung, And guided them to cool erected b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

But through her flesh they burned and burned. His mouth Had found the fires to set on flame his drouth, And his lithe fingers spread her streaming tresses O'er the long ardour of their first caresses.

Stretched by the cool of fountains both were lying, Seen of their pa.s.sion-gleaming eyes alone.

And Adam felt a sudden thought unknown Well in his heart to her fast heart replying.

Eve's body hid profound retreats as sweet As moss that by the noon's cool breeze is brushed; Gladly came sheaves undone to be their seat, Gladly the gra.s.s was by their loving crushed.

And when the spasm leapt from them at last, And held them bruised in arms strained stiff and tight, All the great amorous and feline night Tempered its breeze as over them it pa.s.sed.

But on their vision burst A cloud far off at first, And whirling its dizziness with such a blast That it was all a miracle and a fright, Leapt from the dim horizon through the night.

Adam raised Eve, and pressed unto him fast Her s.h.i.+vering body exquisitely wan.

Livid and sulphurous the cloud came on, With thundering threats o'erflowing, and red lit.

Suddenly on the spot Where the wild gra.s.s was hot With their two bodies that had loved on it, All the loud Rage of the dark, tremendous cloud Bit.

And the voice of the Lord G.o.d in its shadow sounded, Fires from the flowers and nightly bushes bounded; And where the dark the turning paths submerged, With sword in hand flamboyant angels surged; Lions were roaring at the fateful skies, Eagles hailed death with hoa.r.s.ely boding cries; And by the waters all the palm-trees bent Under the same hard wind of discontent That beat on Eve and Adam on that sward, And in the vasty darkness drove them toward New human worlds more fervent than the old.

Now felt the man a magnet manifold Draw out his strength and mingle it with all; Ends he divined, and knew what gave them birth; His lover's lips with words grew magical; And his unwritten simple heart loved earth, And serviceable water, trees that hold Authority, and stones that broken s.h.i.+ne.

Fruits tempted him to take their placid gold, And the bruised grapes of the translucent vine Kindled his thirst which they were ripe to still.

The howling beasts he chased awoke the skill That in his hands had slept; and pride dowered him With vehement strengths that foam and over-brim, That he himself his destiny might build.

And the woman, still more fair since by the man The marvellous s.h.i.+ver through her body ran, Lived in the woods of gold by perfumes filled And dawn, with all the future in her tears.

In her awoke the first soul, made of pride And sweet strength blended with an unknown shame, At the hour when all her heart was shed in flame On the child sheltered in her naked side.

And when the day burns glorious and is done, And feet of tall trees in the forests gleam, She laid her body full of her young dream On sloping rocks gilt by the setting sun; Her lifted b.r.e.a.s.t.s two rounded shadows showed Upon her skin as rosy as a sh.e.l.l, And the sun that on her pregnant body glowed Seemed to be ripening all the world as well.

Valiant and grave she pondered, burning, slow,

How by her love the lot of men should grow, And of the beautiful and violent will Fated to tame the earth. Ye sacred cares And griefs, she saw you, you she saw, despairs!

And all the darkest deeps of human ill.

And with transfigured face and statelier bearing She took your hands in hers and kissed your brow; But you as well, men's grandeur madly daring, You lifted up her soul, and she saw how The limitless sands of time should by your tide Be buried under billows singing pride; In you she hoped, ideas keen in quest, Fervour to love and to desire the best In valiant pain and anguished joy; and so, One evening roving in the after-glow, When she beheld, come to a mossy plot, The gates of Paradise thrown open wide, And the angel beckoning, she turned aside Without desire of it, and entered not.