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grass of parnassus-第5章

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That sunders you and me;

In bitter dreams we reap

The sorrow we have sown;

And I would I were asleep;

Forgotten and alone!



We knew and did not know;

We saw and did not see;

The nets that long ago

Fate wove for you and me;

The cruel nets that keep

The birds that sob and moan;

And I would we were asleep;

Forgotten and alone!







THE SINGING ROSE。







'La Rose qui chante et l'herbe qui egare。'





White Rose on the grey garden wall;

Where now no night…wind whispereth;

Call to the far…off flowers; and call

With murmured breath and musical

Till all the Roses hear; and all

Sing to my Love what the White Rose saith。



White Rose on the grey garden wall

That long ago we sung!

Again you come at Summer's call; …

Again beneath my windows all

With trellised flowers is hung;

With clusters of the roses white

Like fragrant stars in a green night。



Once more I hear the sister towers

Each unto each reply;

The bloom is on those limes of ours;

The weak wind shakes the bloom in showers;

Snow from a cloudless sky;

There is no change this happy day

Within the College Gardens grey!



St。 Mary's; Merton; Magdalen … still

Their sweet bells chime and swing;

The old years answer them; and thrill

A wintry heart against its will

With memories of the Spring …

That Spring we sought the gardens through

For flowers which ne'er in gardens grew!



For we; beside our nurse's knee;

In fairy tales had heard

Of that strange Rose which blossoms free

On boughs of an enchanted tree;

And sings like any bird!

And of the weed beside the way

That leadeth lovers' steps astray!



In vain we sought the Singing Rose

Whereof old legends tell;

Alas; we found it not mid those

Within the grey old College close;

That budded; flowered; and fell; …

We found that herb called 'Wandering'

And meet no more; no more in Spring!



Yes; unawares the unhappy grass

That leadeth steps astray;

We trod; and so it came to pass

That never more we twain; alas;

Shall walk the self…same way。

And each must deem; though neither knows;

That NEITHER found the Singing Rose!







A REVIEW IN RHYME。







A little of Horace; a little of Prior;

A sketch of a Milkmaid; a lay of the Squire …

These; these are 'on draught' 'At the Sign of the Lyre!'



A child in Blue Ribbons that sings to herself;

A talk of the Books on the Sheraton shelf;

A sword of the Stuarts; a wig of the Guelph;



A LAI; a PANTOUM; a BALLADE; a RONDEAU;

A pastel by Greuze; and a sketch by Moreau;

And the chimes of the rhymes that sing sweet as they go;



A fan; and a folio; a ringlet; a glove;

'Neath a dance by Laguerre on the ceiling above;

And a dream of the days when the bard was in love;



A scent of dead roses; a glance at a pun;

A toss of old powder; a glint of the sun;

They meet in the volume that Dobson has done!



If there's more that the heart of a man can desire;

He may search; in his Swinburne; for fury and fire;

If he's wise … he'll alight 'At the Sign of the Lyre!'







COLINETTE。







For a sketch by Mr。 G。 Leslie; R。A。





France your country; as we know;

Room enough for guessing yet;

What lips now or long ago;

Kissed and named you … Colinette。

In what fields from sea to sea;

By what stream your home was set;

Loire or Seine was glad of thee;

Marne or Rhone; O Colinette?



Did you stand with maidens ten;

Fairer maids were never seen;

When the young king and his men

Passed among the orchards green?

Nay; old ballads have a note

Mournful; we would fain forget;

No such sad old air should float

Round your young brows; Colinette。



Say; did Ronsard sing to you;

Shepherdess; to lull his pain;

When the court went wandering through

Rose pleasances of Touraine?

Ronsard and his famous Rose

Long are dust the breezes fret;

You; within the garden close;

You are blooming; Colinette。



Have I seen you proud and gay;

With a patched and perfumed beau;

Dancing through the summer day;

Misty summer of Watteau?

Nay; so sweet a maid as you

Never walked a minuet

With the splendid courtly crew;

Nay; forgive me; Colinette。



Not from Greuze's canvases

Do you cast a glance; a smile;

You are not as one of these;

Yours is beauty without guile。

Round your maiden brows and hair

Maidenhood and Childhood met

Crown and kiss you; sweet and fair;

New art's blossom; Colinette。







A SUNSET OF WATTEAU。







LUI。



The silk sail fills; the soft winds wake;

Arise and tempt the seas;

Our ocean is the Palace lake;

Our waves the ripples that we make

Among the mirrored trees。



ELLE。



Nay; sweet the shore; and sweet the song;

And dear the languid dream;

The music mingled all day long

With paces of the dancing throng;

And murmur of the stream。



An hour ago; an hour ago;

We rested in the shade;

And now; why should we seek to know

What way the wilful waters flow?

There is no fairer glade。



LUI。



Nay; pleasure flits; and we must sail;

And seek him everywhere;

Perchance in sunset's golden pale

He listens to the nightingale;

Amid the perfumed air。



Come; he has fled; you are not you;

And I no more am I;

Delight is changeful as the hue

Of heaven; that is no longer blue

In yonder sunset sky。



ELLE。



Nay; if we seek we shall not find;

If we knock none openeth;

Nay; see; the sunset fades behind

The mountains; and the cold night wind

Blows from the house of Death。







NIGHTINGALE WEATHER。







'Serai…je nonnette; oui ou non?

Semi…je nonnette? je crois que non。

Derriere chez mon pere

Il est un bois taillis;

Le rossignol y chante

Et le jour et la nuit。

Il chante pour les filles

Qui n'ont pas d'ami;

Il ne chant pas pour moi;

J'en ai un; Dieu merci。' … Old French





I'll never be a nun; I trow;

While apple bloom is white as snow;

But far more fair to see;

I'll never wear nun's black and white

While nightingales make sweet the night

Within the apple tree。



Ah; listen! 'tis the nightingale;

And in the wood he makes his wail;

Within the apple tree;

He singeth of the sore distress

Of many ladies loverless;

Thank God; no song for me。



For when the broad May moon is low;

A gold fruit seen where blossoms blow

In the boughs of the apple tree;

A step I know is at the gate;

Ah love; but it is long to wait

Until night's noon bring thee!



Between lark's song and nightingale's

A silent space; while dawning pales;

The birds leave still and free

For words and kisses musical;

For silence and for sighs that fall

In the dawn; 'twixt him and me。







LOVE AND WISDOM。







'When last we gathered roses in the garden

I found my wits; but truly you lost yours。'



The Broken Heart。





July and June brought flowers and love

To you; but I would none thereof;

Whose heart kept all through summer time

A flower of frost and winter rime。

Yours was true wisdom … was it not?

Even love; but I had clean forgot;

Till seasons of the falling leaf;

All loves; but one that turned to grief。

At length at touch of autumn tide

When roses fell; and summer died;

All in a dawning deep with dew;

Love flew to me; Love fled from you。

The roses drooped their weary heads;

I spoke among the garden beds;

You would not hear; you could not know;

Summer and love seemed long ago;

As far; as faint; as dim a dream;

As to the dead this world may seem。

Ah sweet; in winter's miseries;

Perchance you may remember this;

How Wisdom was not justified

In summer time or autumn tide;

Though for this once below the sun;

Wisdom and Love were made at one;

But Love was bitter…bought enough;

And Wisdom light of wing as Love。







GOOD…BYE。







Kiss me; and say good…bye;

Good…bye; there is no word to say but this;

Nor any lips left for my lips to kiss;

Nor any tears to shed; when these tears dry;

Kiss me; and say; good…bye。



Farewell; be glad; forget;

There is no need to say 'forget;' I know;

For youth is youth; and time will have it so;

And though your lips are pale; and your eyes wet;

Farewell; you must forget。



You shall bring home your sheaves;

Many; and heavy; and with blossoms twined

Of memories that go not out of mind;

Let this one sheaf be twined with poppy leaves

When you bring home your sheaves。



In garnered loves of thine;

The ripe good fruit of many hearts and years;

Somewhere let this lie; grey and salt with tears;

It grew too near the sea wind; and the brine

Of life; this love of mine。



This sheaf was spoiled in spring;

And over…long was green; and early sere;

And never gathered gold in the late year

From autumn suns; and moons of harvesting;

But failed in frosts of spring。



Yet was it thine; my sweet;

This love; t
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