tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">Blue Flowers

The Inn of Dreams

          Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight!
My heart is like a lighted Inn that waits
Your swift approach . . . and at the open gates
White Beauty stands and listens like a flower.
She has been dreaming of you in the night,
O fairy Princes; and her eyes are bright.
Spur your fleet horses, this is Beauty's hour!
Even as when a golden flame up-curled
Quivers and flickers out in a dark place,
So is it with the flame of Beauty's face—
That torch! that rose! that wonder of the world!
And Love shall weep to see—when he rides by
Years hence (the time shall seem as a bird's flight)—
A lonely Inn beneath a winter sky.
Come now, sweet friends! before the summer die.
          Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight!

The Kingdom of Heaven

O World that holds me by the wings,
     How shall my soul escape your snares?
So dear are your delightful things,
     So difficult your toils and cares:
That, every way my soul is held
     By bonds of love, and bonds of hate;
With all its heavenly ardours quelled,
     And all its angels desolate . . .

Yet in the heart of every child,
God and the world are reconciled! . . .

A Dream

I dreamed we walked together, you and I,
Along a white and lonely road, that went
I know not where . . . and we were well content.
Our laughter was untroubled as the sky,
And all our talk was delicate and shy,
Though in that cage of words wild thoughts were pent
Like prisoned birds that some sweet accident
Might yet release to sing again, and fly.
We passed between long lines of poplar trees . . .
Where, summer comrades gay and debonair,
The south wind and the sunlight danced . . . you smiled,
With great glad eyes, as bright as summer seas,
To feel their twinkling fingers in your hair . .
And then you kissed me, quickly, like a child!

The Autumn Day

How delicately steps the autumn day
In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey
Over the level country that I love!

With glittering veils of light about her head
And skirts of wide horizons round her spread
White as the white wing-feathers of a dove.

Her feet, a flash of silver on the sea,
Chase silver sails that fly untiringly
Towards the enchanted Islands of the West.

Beautiful Islands, gardens of delight!
That flower at dawn with roses red and white . . .
And flame at sunset gold and amethyst . . .

How delicately steps the autumn day
In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey
Over the level country that I love . . .

And how my heart that all sweet things beguile
Goes laughing with her for a little while . . .
And then turns homeward like a weary dove.

Angels

When life is difficult, I dream
Of how the angels dance in heaven!
Of how the angels dance and sing
In gardens of eternal spring,
Because their sins have been forgiven . . .
And never more for them shall be
The terrors of mortality!
When life is difficult, I dream
Of how the angels dance in heaven . . .

The Changeling

My father was a golden king,
     My mother was a shining queen;
I heard the magic blue-bird sing . . .
     They wrapped me in a mantle green.

They led their winged white horses out,
     We rode and rode till dawn was grey;
We rode with many a song and shout,
     "Over the hills and far away."

They stole the crying human child,
     And left me laughing by the fire;
And that is why my heart is wild,
     And all my life a long desire . . .

The old enchantments hold me still . . .
     And sometimes in a waking trance
I seek again the Fairy Hill,
     The midnight feast, the glittering dance!

The wizard harpers play for me,
     I wear a crown upon my head,
A princess in eternity,
     I dance and revel with the dead . . .

"Vain lies!" I hear the people cry,
     I listen to their weary truth;
Then turn again to fantasy,
     And the untroubled Land of Youth.

I hear the laughter of the kings,
     I see their jewelled flagons gleam . . .
O wine of Life! . . . immortal things
     Move in the splendour of my dream . . .

My spirit is a homing dove . . .
     I drain a crystal cup, and fall
Softly into the arms of Love . . .
     And then the darkness covers all.

A Song Against Care

               O Care!
Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne,
Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies
(For seldom—seldom art thou stained and torn,
Showing a tattered lining, and the bare
Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair
To look at, O thou garment of our pride!
A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise;
He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . .
And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . .
And after . . . when men know the agony
Of thy great weight of splendour, and would shake
Thee swiftly from their shoulders, cast aside
The burden of thy jewelled bands that break
Their very hearts . . . often it is too late.
They fear the world will mock them and deride
When they are stripped of all their golden state.
But some are brave . . . but some among us dare
Cry out against thy torment and be free!
And I would rather a gay beggar be,
And go in rags for all eternity,
Than that thy clanking pomp should cover me,
               O Care! . . .

"Quelque part une Enfance très douce doit mourir"
               Albert Samian

Alas! I do not know on what sad day
My childhood went away . . .
It may have left me softly in the night
     When I was sleeping—dreaming—who can tell?
Perhaps it whispered "wings were made for flight!"
     I only know it never said "farewell" . . .

And so I cannot tell when youth will go