Kitabı oku: «Gypsy Verses», sayfa 4

SUMMER SONG

 
My heart’s a yellow butterfly
That flutters down the road;
A beggar, tricksy, dancing thing
That scorns a fixed abode.
 
 
The aigrette of the thistle bloom
Becomes the swinging sign
Of merry hostelries, where I
May pause awhile and dine.
 
 
The sky is lapis lazuli
Bestrewn by clouds of pearl,—
Who would not be a butterfly
Instead of just a girl?
 

SERAPHIS

 
He tasted dragon’s blood
From the dark dragon tree,
In those far islands where the mood
Is faery-like and free.
 
 
With cinnamon and nard
His strange gay clothes were sweet,
His lips were fanciful with fard,
Red flames played ’round his feet.
 
 
Sharp dancing pointed flames,
Detached as butterflies,
He called them all by secret names,
They were his ecstasies.
 
 
No love, no maiden bright
Might woo him from his swoon,
For he had tasted strange delight
In lands beyond the moon.
 

VENGEMENT

 
What was his offense to you,
You who sit thro’ dreamless days,
Sifting thro’ your fingers slim
Ashes in a porphyry vase?
 
 
Hatred makes your eyes grow hard,
As you conjure forth his name
From the dust that was his face,
From the heart that was his flame.
 
 
Then she, lifting heavy eyes,
Spoke: “When this man walked the world
Him I loved, he loved not me;
So his days to death I hurled.
 
 
“Dying, then, he touched my hand,
Smiled and whispered, ‘I forgive’;
This his vengeance on my soul,
I must hate him while I live.”
 

AUTUMN LOVE

I

 
Once I could love this season of the year,
And watch the calm and delicate decline
Of Summer gladly; I could see the pine
Deep green on bluest sky, and laugh for cheer
Of very living. Yet I’d fain appear
Th’ unhurried gourmet, tasting of my wine,
Lingering o’er memories of the purpled vine,
Loath for each passing moment. Ah, my dear,
Now like a careless child, I toss the hours
Over my shoulder, I forget the sun,
The dewy dawn, the white moon and the flowers.
Like a tired pilgrim with his goal in view,
Looking not right nor left, I run, I run
To that bright day of days that brings me you.
 

II

 
I feel as murderers feel, who, having slain
Their love, laugh with red hands and do not care.
I took sweet Summer by her lovely hair,
Bent her white throat, and gladly saw the stain
Crimson her green leaf-gown of hill and plain.
I would not wait for her last kiss, nor spare
One splendid flying hour, for chill and fair
Autumn, my love, comes near me thro’ the rain.
 
 
Pale with mysterious wonder, her deep eyes
Are wells of wisdom; fugitive, astray
From a blue land that dreams beyond the skies.
’Tis done. I lay young Summer on her pyre,
And turning, burn thro’ distance to the day
That brings me to the lips of my desire.
 

THE WITCH

 
Whence came the fire in her eyes, eyes of a beast in the jungle,
Desperate, golden and green, wild as a river in spate?
Her long lithe limbs were brown, and she took the world as a leopard,
Grave, disdainful and strong, takes of his prey without hate.
 
 
Glamourie slept in her eyes, terribly calm in the tumult,
Hidden and secret and sweet was the smile of her crimson mouth.
A marigold wound in her hair, she swayed like wind in the desert,
Burning and thrilling to thirst the hearts that dream of the South.
 
 
Whence came the fire in her eyes? I, only I, knew the secret,
The thing that hung on her breast, hid by her stormy hair,
Amber drops on a string, her talisman, witches’ amber,
Golden, yellow and brown, that only a witch may wear.
 

THE MAN

 
The flame is spent, I can no more
Hold the tall candle by your door.
Too often have I watched to see
Your lagging steps come home to me.
 
 
The Tyrian traders taught me this.
They came, perfumed with ambergris,
With amethystine robes, and hair
Curled by the kisses of salt air.
 
 
They mocked me for my weary hands,
Holding your light as love demands,
They sang the lure of poppied sleep,
Their lips were warm, their eyes were deep.
 
 
The flame is spent! Your pale weak face
Must seek another resting place.
Win me, and hold me now who can!
The Tyrian trader was a man!
 

DOWN IN MALDONADO TOWN

 
There’s a town called Maldonado,
That’s the place where I would be;
There’s a girl in Maldonado,
And she gave her heart to me.
 
 
Starved with sixty days of sailing,
How we swaggered to the shore,
Hands in pockets, eyes cocked sideways,
At the girl in every door.
 
 
Sweet they fluttered to our shoulders,
She, my girl, the fairest girl,
And I took her for a plaything,
Face of flower and heart of pearl.
 
 
Round my neck she clung and pleaded,
But I told her to be wise;
Said no sailor could be faithful,
And his love was ever lies.
 
 
Then she turned and left me silent,
Stepping weary, stepping slow;
Merry was I to have won her,
And I laughed to see her go.
 
 
Now ’tis done—I have lost her,
Seas between us thunder wide,
“Dear,” I said, “I shall forget you,”
And God knows that I have lied!
 
 
Many girls have smiled upon me,
Up and down the Northern coast,
But their kisses only taunt me
With the kiss that I have lost.
 
 
Oh! You’re killing me by inches,
Velvet lips and eyes of brown,
For it’s love I left behind me,
Down in Maldonado town.