按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Though years have thinned the laurel from his brows。
Whether or not we read him； we can feel
From time to time the vigor of his name
Against us like a finger for the shame
And emptiness of what our souls reveal
In books that are as altars where we kneel
To consecrate the flicker； not the flame。
Credo
I cannot find my way： there is no star
In all the shrouded heavens anywhere；
And there is not a whisper in the air
Of any living voice but one so far
That I can hear it only as a bar
Of lost； imperial music； played when fair
And angel fingers wove； and unaware；
Dead leaves to garlands where no roses are。
No； there is not a glimmer； nor a call；
For one that welcomes； welcomes when he fears；
The black and awful chaos of the night；
For through it all； above； beyond it all；
I know the far…sent message of the years；
I feel the coming glory of the Light！
On the Night of a Friend's Wedding
If ever I am old； and all alone；
I shall have killed one grief； at any rate；
For then； thank God； I shall not have to wait
Much longer for the sheaves that I have sown。
The devil only knows what I have done；
But here I am； and here are six or eight
Good friends； who most ingenuously prate
About my songs to such and such a one。
But everything is all askew to…night；
As if the time were come； or almost come；
For their untenanted mirage of me
To lose itself and crumble out of sight；
Like a tall ship that floats above the foam
A little while； and then breaks utterly。
Sonnet
The master and the slave go hand in hand；
Though touch be lost。 The poet is a slave；
And there be kings do sorrowfully crave
The joyance that a scullion may command。
But； ah； the sonnet…slave must understand
The mission of his bondage； or the grave
May clasp his bones； or ever he shall save
The perfect word that is the poet's wand！
The sonnet is a crown； whereof the rhymes
Are for Thought's purest gold the jewel…stones；
But shapes and echoes that are never done
Will haunt the workshop； as regret sometimes
Will bring with human yearning to sad thrones
The crash of battles that are never won。
Verlaine
Why do you dig like long…clawed scavengers
To touch the covered corpse of him that fled
The uplands for the fens； and rioted
Like a sick satyr with doom's worshippers？
Come！ let the grass grow there； and leave his verse
To tell the story of the life he led。
Let the man go： let the dead flesh be dead；
And let the worms be its biographers。
Song sloughs away the sin to find redress
In art's complete remembrance： nothing clings
For long but laurel to the stricken brow
That felt the Muse's finger； nothing less
Than hell's fulfilment of the end of things
Can blot the star that shines on Paris now。
Sonnet
When we can all so excellently give
The measure of love's wisdom with a blow；
Why can we not in turn receive it so；
And end this murmur for the life we live？
And when we do so frantically strive
To win strange faith； why do we shun to know
That in love's elemental over…glow
God's wholeness gleams with light superlative？
Oh； brother men； if you have eyes at all；
Look at a branch； a bird； a child； a rose；
Or anything God ever made that grows；
Nor let the smallest vision of it slip；
Till you can read； as on Belshazzar's wall；
The glory of eternal partnership！
Supremacy
There is a drear and lonely tract of hell
From all the common gloom removed afar：
A flat； sad land it is； where shadows are；
Whose lorn estate my verse may never tell。
I walked among them and I knew them well：
Men I had slandered on life's little star
For churls and sluggards； and I knew the scar
Upon their brows of woe ineffable。
But as I went majestic on my way；
Into the dark they vanished； one by one；
Till； with a shaft of God's eternal day；
The dream of all my glory was undone；
And； with a fool's importunate dismay；
I heard the dead men singing in the sun。
The Night Before
Look you； Dominie； look you； and listen！
Look in my face； first； search every line there；
Mark every feature； chin； lip； and forehead！
Look in my eyes； and tell me the lesson
You read there； measure my nose； and tell me
Where I am wanting！ A man's nose； Dominie；
Is often the cast of his inward spirit；
So mark mine well。 But why do you smile so？
Pity； or what？ Is it written all over；
This face of mine； with a brute's confession？
Nothing but sin there？ nothing but hell…scars？
Or is it because there is something better
A glimmer of good； maybe or a shadow
Of something that's followed me down from childhood
Followed me all these years and kept me；
Spite of my slips and sins and follies；
Spite of my last red sin； my murder；
Just out of hell？ Yes？ something of that kind？
And you smile for that？ You're a good man； Dominie；
The one good man in the world who knows me；
My one good friend in a world that mocks me；
Here in this hard stone cage。 But I leave it
To…morrow。 To…morrow！ My God！ am I crying？
Are these things tears？ Tears！ What！ am I frightened？
I； who swore I should go to the scaffold
With big strong steps； and No more。 I thank you；
But no I am all right now！ No！ listen！
I am here to be hanged； to be hanged to…morrow
At six o'clock； when the sun is rising。
And why am I here？ Not a soul can tell you
But this poor shivering thing before you；
This fluttering wreck of the man God made him；
For God knows what wild reason。 Hear me；
And learn from my lips the truth of my story。
There's nothing strange in what I shall tell you；
Nothing mysterious； nothing unearthly；
But damnably human； and you shall hear it。
Not one of those little black lawyers had guessed it；
The judge； with his big bald head； never knew it；
And the jury （God rest their poor souls！） never dreamed it。
Once there were three in the world who could tell it；
Now there are two。 There'll be two to…morrow；
You； my friend； and But there's the story：
When I was a boy the world was heaven。
I never knew then that the men and the women
Who petted and called me a brave big fellow
Were ever less happy than I； but wisdom
Which comes with the years； you know soon showed me
The secret of all my glittering childhood；
The broken key to the fairies' castle
That held my life in the fresh； glad season
When I was the king of the earth。 Then slowly
And yet so swiftly！ there came the knowledge
That the marvellous life I had lived was my life；
That the glorious world I had loved was my world；
And that every man； and every woman；
And every child was a different being；
Wrought with a different heat； and fired
With passions born of a single spirit；
That the pleasure I felt was not their pleasure；
Nor m