Dreams and Dust Part 10

Oh, say the soul, from star to star, with victory wing'd, leap on through s.p.a.ce And scale the bastioned nights that bar the secret's inner dwelling-place; Or say it ever roam dim glades where pallid wraiths of long-dead moons Flit like blown feathers through the shades, borne on the breath of sobbing tunes: Say any tide of any time, of all the tides that ebb and flow, Shall buoy us on toward any clime; but say--at last--you do not know!

LYRICS

"KING PANDION, HE IS DEAD"

"King Pandion, he is dead; All thy friends are lapp'd in lead."

--SHAKESPEARE.

DREAMERS, drinkers, rebel youth, Where's the folly free and fine You and I mistook for truth?

Wits and wastrels, friends of wine, Wags and poets, friends of mine, Gleams and glamors all are fled, Fires and frenzies half divine!

King Pandion, he is dead!

Time's unmannerly, uncouth!

Here's the crow's-foot for a sign!

And, upon our brows, forsooth, Wits and wastrels, friends of wine, Time hath set his mark malign; Frost has touched us, heart and head, Cooled the blood and dulled the eyne: King Pandion, he is dead!

Time's a tyrant without ruth:-- Fancies used to bloom and twine Round a common tavern booth, Wits and wastrels, friends of wine, In that youth of mine and thine!

'Tis for youth the feast is spread; When we dine now--we but dine!-- King Pandion, he is dead!

How our dreams would glow and s.h.i.+ne, Wits and wastrels, friends of wine, Ere the drab Hour came that said: King Pandion, he is dead!

DAVID TO BATHSHEBA

VERY red are the roses of Sharon, But redder thy mouth, There is nard, there is myrrh, in En Gedi, From the uplands of Lebanon, heavy With balsam, the winds Drift freighted and scented and cedarn-- But thy mouth is more precious than spices!

Thy b.r.e.a.s.t.s are twin lilies of Kedron; White lilies, that sleep In the shallows where loitering Kedron Broadens out and is lost in the Jordan; Globed lilies, so white That David, thy King, thy beloved Declareth them meet for his gardens.

Under the stars very strangely The still waters gleam; Deep down in the waters of Hebron

The soul of the starlight is sunken, But deep in thine eyes Stirs a more wonderful secret Than pools ever learn of the starlight.

THE JESTERS

A TOAST to the Fools!

Pierrot, Pantaloon, Harlequin, Clown, Merry-Andrew, Buffoon-- Touchstone and Triboulet--all of the tribe.-- Dancer and jester and singer and scribe.

We sigh over Yorick--(unfortunate fool, Ten thousand Hamlets have fumbled his skull!)-- But where is the Hamlet to weep o'er the biers Of his brothers?

And where is the poet solicits our tears For the others?

They have pa.s.sed from the world and left never a sign, And few of us now have the courage to sing That their whimsies made life a more livable thing-- We, that are left of the line, Let us drink to the jesters--in gooseberry wine!

Then here's to the Fools!

Flouting the sages Through history's pages And driving the dreary old seers into rages-- The humbugging Magis Who prate that the wages Of Folly are Death--toast the Fools of all ages!

They have ridden like froth down the whirlpools of time, They have jingled their caps in the councils of state, They have snared half the wisdom of life in a rhyme, And tripped into nothingness grinning at fate-- Ho, brothers mine, Brim up the gla.s.ses with gooseberry wine!

Though the prince with his firman, The judge in his ermine, Affirm and determine Bold words need the whip, Let them spare us the rod and remit us the sermon, For Death has a quip

Of the tomb and the vermin That will silence at last the most impudent lip!

Is the world but a bubble, a bauble, a joke?

Heigho, Brother Fools, now your bubble is broke, Do you ask for a tear?--or is it worth while?

Here's a sigh for you, then--but it ends in a smile!

Ho, Brother Death, We would laugh at you, too--if you spared us the breath!

"MARY, MARY, QUITE CONTRARY"

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow?

With silver bells and c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.ls And pretty maids all in a row!"

--Mother Goose.

MARY, Mistress Mary, How does your garden grow?

From your uplands airy, Mary, Mistress Mary, Float the chimes of faery When the breezes blow!

Mary, Mistress Mary, How does your garden grow?

With flower-maidens, singing Among the morning hills-- With silvern bells a-ringing, With flower-maidens singing, With vocal lilies, springing By chanting daffodils; With flower-maidens, singing Among the morning hills!

THE TRIOLET

YOUR triolet should glimmer Like a b.u.t.terfly; In golden light, or dimmer, Your triolet should glimmer, Tremble, turn, and s.h.i.+mmer, Flash, and flutter by; Your triolet should glimmer Like a b.u.t.terfly.

FROM THE BRIDGE

HELD and thrilled by the vision I stood, as the twilight died, Where the great bridge soars like a song Over the crawling tide--

Stood on the middle arch-- And night flooded in from the bay, And wonderful under the stars Before me the city lay;

Girdled with swinging waters-- Guarded by s.h.i.+p on s.h.i.+p-- A gem that the strong old ocean Held in his giant grip;

There was play of shadows above And drifting gleams below, And magic of s.h.i.+fting waves That darkle and glance and glow;

Dusky and purple and splendid, Banded with loops of light, The tall towers rose like pillars, Lifting the dome of night;

The gliding cars of traffic Slid swiftly up and down Like monsters, fiery mailed, Leaping across the town.

Not planned with a thought of beauty; Built by a lawless breed; Builded of l.u.s.t for power, Builded of gold and greed.

Risen out of the trader's Brutal and sordid wars-- And yet, behold! a city Wonderful under the stars!

"PALADINS, PALADINS, YOUTH n.o.bLE-HEARTED"

GALAHADS, Galahads, Percivals, gallop!