Birds of Passage

By Blind, Mathilde

Book Id: WPLBN0000680071
Format Type: PDF eBook
File Size: 139,725 KB.
Reproduction Date: 2007

Title:	Birds of Passage
Author:	Blind, Mathilde
Volume:
Language:	English
Subject:	Fiction, Poetry, Verse drama
Collections:	Poetry Collection
Historic Publication Date:
Publisher:	World Public Library Association


Citation APA MLA Chicago Blind, M. (n.d.). Birds of Passage. Retrieved from http://gutenberg.cc/

Description
Poetry

Excerpt
Excerpt: Miscellaneous Pieces. // Pastiche. // I. // LOVE, oh, Love's a dainty sweeting, // Wooing now, and now retreating; // Brightest joy and blackest care, // Swift as light, and light as air. // II. // Would you seize and fix and capture // All his evanescent rapture? // Bind him fast with golden curls, // Fetter with a chain of pearls? // III. // Would you catch him in a net, // Like a white moth prankt with jet? // Clutch him, and his bloomy wing // Turns a dead, discoloured thing! // IV. // Pluck him like a rosebud red, // And he leaves a thorn instead; // Let him go without a care, // And he follows unaware. // V. // Love, oh Love's a dainty sweeting, // Wooing now, and now retreating; // Lightly come, and lightly gone, // Lost when most securely won! // Marriage. // LOVE springs as lightly from the human heart // As springs the lovely rose upon the brier, // Which turns the common hedge to floral fire, // As Love wings Time with rosy-feathered dart. // But marriage is the subtlest work of art // Of all the arts which lift the spirit higher; // The incarnation of the heart's desire- // Which masters Time-set on Man's will apart. // The Many try, but oh! how few are they // To whom that finest of the arts is given // Which shall teach Love, the rosy runaway, // To bide from bridal Morn to brooding Even. // Yet this-this only-is the narrow way // By which, while yet on earth, we enter heaven. // Once We Played. // ONCE we played at love together- // Played it smartly, if you please; // Lightly, as a windblown feather, // Did we stake a heart apiece. // Oh, it was delicious fooling! // In the hottest of the game, // Without thought of future cooling, // All too quickly burned Life's flame. // In this give-and-take of glances, // Kisses sweet as honey dews, // When we played with equal chances, // Did you win, or did I lose? // Was your heart then hurt to bleeding, // In the ardour of the throw? // Was it then I lost, unheeding, // Lost my heart so long ago? // Who shall say? The game is over. // Of us two who loved in fun, // One lies low beneath the clover, // One lies lonely in the sun. // Affinities. // I. // I will take your thoughts to my heart; // I will keep and garner them there // Locked in a casket apart. // 2 // Far above rubies or rare // Pearls from the prodigal deep, // Which men stake their lives on to find, // And women their beauty to keep, // I will treasure the pearls of your mind. // How long has it taken the earth // To crystallize gems in a mine? // How long was the sea giving birth // To her pearls, washed in bitterest brine? // What sorrows, what struggles, what fierce // Endeavour of lives in the past, // Hearts tempered by fire and tears, // To fashion your manhood at last! // II. // TAKE me to thy heart, and let me // Rest my head a little while; // Rest my heart from griefs that fret me // In the mercy of thy smile. // In a twilight pause of feeling, // Time to say a moment's grace, // Put thy hands, whose touch is healing, // Put them gently on my face. // Found too late in Life's wild welter, // All I ask, for weal and woe, // Friend, a moment's friendly shelter, // And thy blessing ere I go. // III. // FULL many loves and friendships dear // Have blossomed brightly in my path; // And some were like the primrose rathe, // And withered with the vernal year. // And some were like the joyous rose, // Most prodigal with scent and hue, // That glows while yet the sky is blue, // And falls with every wind that blows- // Mere guests and annuals of the heart; // But you are that perennial bay, // Greenest when greener leaves decay, // 3 // Whom only death shall bid depart. // To a Friend. // With a Volume of Verses. // TO you who dwell withdrawn, above // The world's tumultuous strife, // And, in an atmosphere of love, // Have triumphed over life; // To you whose heart has kept so young // Beneath the weight of years, // I give these passion flowers of song, // Still wet with undried tears. // You too have trod that stony path // Which steeply winds afar, // And seen, through nights of storm and wrath, // The bright and Morning Star; // Where, shining o'er the Alps of time // On valleys full of mist, // It beckons us to peaks sublime, // Oh, brave Idealist. // As Many Stars. // AS many stars as are aglow // Deep in the hollows of the night // As many as the flowers that blow // Beneath the kindling light; // As many as the birds that fly // Unpiloted across the deep; // As many as the clouds on high, // And all the drops they weep; // As many as the leaves that fall // In autumn, on the withering lea, // When wind to thundering wind doth call, // And sea calls unto sea; // 4 // As many as the multitude // Of quiet graves, where mutely bide // The wicked people and the good, // Laid softly side by side;- // So many thoughts, so many tears, // Such hosts of prayers, are sent on high, // Seeking, through all Man's perished years, // A love that will not die. // Love's Vision. // TRANSPORTED out of self by Youth's sweet madness, // Emulous of love, to Love's empyrean height, // Where I beheld you aureoled in light, // My soul upsprang on wings of angel-gladness. // Far, far below, the earth and all earth's badness- // A speck of dust-slipped darkling into night, // As suns of fairer planets flamed in sight, // Pure orbs or bliss unstained by gloom or sadness. // Lo, as I soared etherially on high, // You vanished, from my swimming eyes aloof, // Alone, alone, within the empty sky, // I reached out giddily, and reeling fell // From starriest heaven, to plunge in lowest hell, // My proud heart broken on Earth's humblest roof. // A Parable. // BETWEEN the sandhills and the sea // A narrow strip of silver sand, // Whereon a little maid doth stand, // Who picks up shells continually // Between the sandhills and the sea. // Far as her wondering eyes can reach // A Vastness, heaving grey in grey // To the frayed edges where the day // Furls his red standard on the breach, // Between the skyline and the beach. // The waters of the flowing tide // Cast up the seapink shells and weed; // She toys with shells, and doth not heed // The ocean, which on every side // 5 // Is closing round her vast and wide. // It creeps her way as if in play, // Pink shells at her pink feet to cast; // But now the wild waves hold her fast, // And bear her off and melt away // A Vastness heaving gray in gray. // Between Sleep and Waking. // SOFTLY in a dream I heard, // Ere the day was breaking, // Softly call a cuckoo bird // Between sleep and waking. // Calling through the rippling rain // And red orchard blossom; // Calling up old love again, // Buried in my bosom; // Calling till he brought you too // From some magic region; // And the whole spring followed you, // Birds on birds in legion. // Youth was in your beaming glance, // Love a rainbow round you; // Blushing trees began to dance, // Wreaths of roses crowned you. // And I called your name, and woke // To the cuckoo's calling; // And you waned in waning smoke, // As the rain was falling. // Had the cuckoo called Adieu, // Ere the day was breaking? // All the old wounds bled anew // Between sleep and waking. // Rest. // WE are so tired, my heart and I. // Of all things here beneath the sky // One only thing would please us best- // 6 // Endless, unfathomable rest. // We are so tired; we ask no more // Than just to slip out by Life's door; // And leave behind the noisy rout // And everlasting turn about. // Once it seemed well to run on too // With her importunate, fevered crew, // And snatch amid the frantic strife // Some morsel from the board of life. // But we are tired. At Life's crude hands // We ask no gift she understands; // But kneel to him she hates to crave // The absolution of the grave. // Mystery of Mysteries. // BEFORE the abyss of the unanswering grave // Each mortal stands at last aloof, alone, // With his beloved one turned as deaf as stone, // However rebel love may storm and rave. // No will, however strong, avails to save // The wrecked identity knit to our own; // We may not hoard one treasured look or tone, // Dissolved in foam on Death's dissolving wave. // Is this the End? This handful of brown earth // For all releasing elements to take // And free for ever from the bonds of birth? // Or will true life from Life's disguises break, // Called to that vast confederacy of minds // Which casts all flesh as chaff to all the winds?