A Cluster of Grapes Part 2

As I looked out one May morning, I saw the tree-tops green; I said: "My crown I will lay down And live no more a queen."

Then I tripped down my golden steps All in my silken gown, And when I stood in the open wood, I met some gipsies brown.

"O gentle, gentle gipsies, That roam the wide world through, Because I hate my crown and state O let me come with you.

"My councillors are old and grey, And sit in narrow chairs; But you can hear the birds sing clear, And your hearts are as light as theirs."

"If you would come along with us, Then you must count the cost; For though in Spring the sweet birds sing, In Winter comes the frost.

"Your ladies serve you all the day With courtesy and care; Your fine-shod feet they tread so neat, But a gipsy's feet go bare.

"You wash in water running warm Through basins all of gold; The streams where we roam have silvery foam, But the streams, the streams are cold.

"And barley-bread is bitter to taste, While sugary cakes they please-- Which will you choose, O which will you choose, Which will you choose of these?

"For if you choose the mountain streams And barley-bread to eat, Your heart will be free as the birds in the tree, But the stones will cut your feet.

"The mud will spoil your silken gown, And stain your insteps high; The dogs in the farm will wish you harm And bark as you go by.

"And though your heart grow deep and gay, And your heart grow wise and rich, The cold will make your bones to ache And you will die in a ditch."

"O gentle, gentle gipsies, That roam the wide world through, Although I praise your wandering ways, I dare not come with you."

I hung about their fingers brown My ruby rings and chain, And with my head as heavy as lead, I turned me back again.

As I went up the palace steps, I heard the gipsies laugh; The birds of Spring so sweet did sing; My heart it broke in half.

THE DANDELION

The dandelion is brave and gay, And loves to grow beside the way; A braver thing was never seen To praise the gra.s.s for growing green; You never saw a gayer thing, To sit and smile and praise the Spring.

The children with their simple hearts, The lazy men that come in carts, The little dogs that lollop by, They all have seen its s.h.i.+ning eye: And every one of them would say, They never saw a thing so gay.

SOCIAL INTERCOURSE

Like to islands in the seas, Stand our personalities-- Islands where we always face One another's watering-place.

When we promenade our sands We can hear each other's bands, We can see on festal nights Red and green and purple lights, Gilt pavilions in a row, Stucco houses built for show.

But our eyes can never reach Further than the tawdry beach, Never can they hope to win To the wonders far within: Jagged rocks against the sky Where the eagles haunt and cry, Forests full of running rills, Darkest forests, sunny hills, Hollows where a dragon lowers, Sweet and unimagined flowers.

WALTER DE LA MARE

AN EPITAPH

Here lies a most beautiful lady, Light of step and heart was she: I think she was the most beautiful lady That ever was in the West Country.

But beauty vanishes; beauty pa.s.ses; However rare--rare it be; And when I crumble who will remember This lady of the West Country?

ARABIA

Far are the shades of Arabia, Where the princes ride at noon, 'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets Under the ghost of the moon; And so dark is that vaulted purple, Flowers in the forest rise And toss into blossom 'gainst the phantom stars, Pale in the noonday skies.

Sweet is the music of Arabia In my heart, when out of dreams I still in the thin clear mirk of dawn Descry her gliding streams; Hear her strange lutes on the green banks Ring loud with the grief and delight Of the dim-silked, dark-haired musicians, In the brooding silence of night.

They haunt me--her lutes and her forests; No beauty on earth I see But shadowed with that dream recalls Her loveliness to me: Still eyes look coldly upon me, Cold voices whisper and say-- "He is crazed with the spell of far Arabia, They have stolen his wits away."

NOD

Softly along the road of evening, In a twilight dim with rose, Wrinkled with age and drenched with dew, Old Nod, the shepherd, goes.

His drowsy flock streams on before him, Their fleeces charged with gold, To where the sun's last beam leans low On Nod the shepherd's fold.

The hedge is quick and green with briar, From their sand the conies creep; And all the birds that fly in heaven Flock singing home to sleep.

His lambs outnumber a noon's roses Yet, when night's shadows fall, His blind old sheep dog, Slumber-soon, Misses not one of all.

His are the quiet steeps of dreamland, The waters of no more pain, His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars, "Rest, rest, and rest again."

JOHN GALSWORTHY

THE DOWNS.

Oh! the downs high to the cool sky; And the feel of the sun-warmed moss; And each cardoon, like a full moon, Fairy-spun of the thistle floss; And the beech grove, and a wood dove, And the trail where the shepherds pa.s.s; And the lark's song, and the wind-song, And the scent of the parching gra.s.s!

THE PRAYER.

If on a Spring night I went by And G.o.d were standing there, What is the prayer that I would cry To Him? This is the prayer: O Lord of Courage grave, O Master of this night of Spring!

Make firm in me a heart too brave To ask Thee anything!

DEVON TO ME.