THE FORGOTTEN ISLANDMARGUERITE RADCLYFFE-HALL
LONDON,
CHAPMAN & HALL LTD.
1915
Dedicated to
Mrs. Gordon Woodhouse.
MY DEAR FRIEND
Please accept these few poems, which I dedicate
to you.
I have written them down just as they came to me,
and such as they are I now offer them. Perhaps they
may find favour with you, perhaps not. In any case
they plead their own cause.M.
I
THOU who hast so much forgotten,
Who may stir they sleeping senses
To the memory of thy lover,
And the island of his dreaming?Yet it was a happy island,
Filled with sound of running water,
And the scent of wind, blown southward Through the spice-trees in thy garden.I recall the voice of summer
Singing in the little fountains,
And the footfall of the twilight
Treading softly through thy chamber.I recall the hour of waiting,
Till the lamp that thou hadst kindled
Drew thy lover through the portal.
Why forgettest thou such sweetness?
II
RICH is the fruit of my loving, O mortal,
Sweet to the taste as a droop of gold honey,
Warm on the lips as the kiss of the summer,
Swift in the blood as a wine of rare vintage.I am the goddess whose life is eternal,
Ages may sweep away cities and legions,
Ages may quicken new creeds and destroy them,
I am the ages, the reason for all things.
I, Aphrodite!
III
O APHRODITE, goddess of the world
Bless thou my little pipes, that I may play
A magic melody, and thus beguile
My love across the fields of asphodel.Unto the nymphs much honey will I give,
And new-drawn milk the shy-faced dryads love,
And Chrysis by me on the trodden grass,
Shall offer up her beauty at thy shrine.
IV
THY lips are apt at making vows, O mortal,
Thou swearest that thy love shall be eternal,
Watching the while the starry fields of Heaven
With some fond being whom thy heart desiresth.So swift thou art to drink the draughts of beauty
The gods have brewed to gratify thy senses;
Yet pause awhile, quaff not the golden nectar,
Save at an alter worthy of their greatness.For every vow an earthly lover breaketh,
From out the dome of night a star is driven
To fall through space, and lose its way for ever;
Thus do the gods rebuke thee for thy folly !
V
LINGER by the tapering cypress,
When the lilies close at twilight,
O thou little unknown maiden.I would find thee in my garden,
Thou whose form is even slimmer
Than the white bow of the new moon.We will count the young stars rising,
While below us from the city,
Comes the sound of happy singing.And thou too, O unknown maiden,
I will turn thy heart to singing,
I will melt thy soul with music.Thou shalt learn the Song of Ages,
Lifting up thy voice in rapture
To the goddess Aphrodite !
VI
MY garden has seven gold portals,
Then enter my garden !
Most fragrant the paths with Datura,
And blossom of almonds,
Most strange and beguiling the perfumes
That greet thee at twilight;
Most tender the nightingale's singing
Among the Carubbas.
I care not by which of my gate ways
Thy swift feet shall bring thee,
By that of the yellow Mimosa
Or that of the Agaves,
By that of the tall Eucalyptus,
Or that of the Arums,
By that which is covered with roses,
Or that of the pallid Magnolia
Whose scent is oblivion.
I care not the hour of thy coming,
If sunrise or sunset,
For Time is the slave of the lover,
And I am immortal !
The stars growing tired of their vigil,
Depart with the morning,
The sun growing weary at even,
Sinks into the ocean.
But I, the divine Aphrodite,
I wait through all ages,
And sweet to mine ears is thy footfall,
O child of the city.
My garden has seven gold portals,
Then enter my garden !
VII
OH ! what a wonder is this month of loving,
And with what rapture stirs the springing garden !
Behold ! sweet goddess, how the blossoms tremble,
While flowing sap makes music in their branches.Now is the wandering swallow winging homeward,
And turning wayward thoughts to happy mating.
And these mine arms, that winter left forsaken,
See how they clasp the well-beloved being !
VIII
I HAVE a hill-home high above the valley,
And there in time of summer comes my loved one.She comes from out the city winged with gladness,
To gather blossoms in my sunset garden.And when the evening falls, we sit together
Beneath the drowsy cedar by the fountain.The twilight listens to the singing water,
Whose language none may understand save lovers !
IX
NOW comes the velvet-sandaled dusk,
From out the valley to the hills,
And far below, the harbour lights
Sway gently in the ebbing tide.
This is the hour when lovers' hearts
Have ceased their striving for a space,
And rest contented and at peace,
Until the ardent night shall stopp
To re-awaken their desires.
X
PRAISED be the gods who created the summer,
Bending the boughs with their burden of plenty,
Turning the corn-eaters from emerald to golden,
Sowing the pools of our gardens with lilies.Deck ye with blossoms, O young men and maidens,
Ye who have hearts full of passionate pleasure,
Lift up your voices like birds of the forest,
Praising the gods for this hour of fulfilment.Now shall the lovers from all the world over,
Striking their harps make a sound of great music;
Bringing rich gifts to the mighty immortals,
Phoebus-Apollo, and fair Aphrodite !
XI
THIS is the hour when the god of the forest,
Dropping his pipe made of mystical rushes,
Layeth him down by the river to slumber.This is the hour when the dryads frown weary,
Cease from their dancing, and seek quiet places,
Where in their dreaming no man shall disturb them.Let us go hense, O my tender beloved,
Into the peace of the blue-shadowed valley,
There to repose till the cool of the evening.
XII
RIPPLE on ripple, wave upon small wave,
Floweth the in-coming tide of the evening,
Down in the harbour the lanterns are kindled,
Furled are the sails of the sea-going vessals.E'en as the shore in awaiting the ocean,
I am awaiting thy footfall, my lover.
Come thou and furl the white sails of my spirit,
Lo ! it is weary, and no more would wander.
XIII
NOW Persephone the gentle,
Stepping lightly through our meadows,
Strews with flowers the springing grasses
Now the ripples on the river,
Laughing low for very gladness,
Fling the sun-god back his glory.From the woods along the hillside,
From the cool of rocky caverns,
Comes the sound of shepards piping.
Was there ever such a morning !
Such a perfect hour for lovingm
In this pleasant vale of Enna !
XIV
WHAT shall I liken thee unto, O maiden ?
Unto a reed by the side of the water,
Supple and green with the sap of the springtime.
Bent with the wind of an infinite longing.
Unto a reed that awaiteth the master,
he who shall pluck it, and tenderly fashion
Out of its slimness a pipe for sweet music !
XV
DEEP are thine eyes as the pools in a forest,
Soft with the brown and the gold of the autumn.
Red are thy lips as the flush of the sunset,
Spreading across the pale calmness of evening.Slim is thy form as the delicate cypress,
Youth has most tenderly fashioned thy beauty,
How shall I praise one beloved of the goddess
I~who am only the maker of small songs ?
XVI
LO ! the happy river-water
Wanders in among the rushes,
Through the lily-beds and willows,
And the little shallow channels.Wanders in to find the garden,
Where the idle flowers are waiting
For the slumber of the evening,
With the down upon their petals !Would I were the river-water,
Flowing from the distant places
And my love a golden lily,
With her feet among the ripples !
XVII
LET us go down belovèd in the sunset,
And sit beside Juturna's sacred fountain,
Whose water endless as Olypian bounty,
Flows with soft music through its marble channels.There will we wisper of our burning longing,
Yet not so softly but the gods shall hear us,
And send the waters of a sweet fulfilment,
To ease the aching of our ardent spirits.
XVIII
WHERE art thou, O my lover ?
Behold the breath of summer
Has stirred the ilex branches
With all their birds, to music.And countless are the blossoms
From meadowland and valley
The happy day has gathered
To wind among thy tresses.In every falling fountain,
Juturna's singing water
Leaps upward to the sunlight,
Or falls in broken silver.While through the city highways
Come maidens light of footfall,
They laugh and dance together,
Hand clasped in hand like children.But thou art not among them,
Nor does thy laughter mingle
With this supreme rejoicing,
That fills the earth with gladness.
XIX
BRING wine to Bacchus and roses to Cypris,
And what shall I bring unto thee, my belovèd ?To thee, all the wine and the passion of living !
To thee, all the roses and sweetness of loving !
XX
IAM the Ocean,
I call thee, tranquil river.
Forsake thy sunlit valley
And merge thyself in me !I am the forest,
I call thee, timid songster.
Forsake thy sheltered garden
And build among my boughs !I am the lover,
I call thee, O thou maiden,
Forsake all else thou lovest
And shelter in mine arms !
XXI
THE hawk has slain the young of the swallow,
And all day long the desolate mother
Circles above the nest where they are not.The sun has burnt the life from the blossom,
And all day long the lonely wind wanders
Seeking to find the flower that is not.Thine eyes have torn the joy from my being,
And all day long the soul of me hovers
Over the thoughts of the gladness that is not !
XXII
OH ! that thy lips were a goblet of crystal,
Holding the priceless wine of thy spirit,
That I might drink there of my beloved !Deep would I drink from the marvellous vessel,
Draughts full of rapture and great contentment,
Through the long hours of the htrobbing darkness.Why hast thou hidden thy soul from my vision?
Thou hast revealed to me all thy beauty,
Only thy soul has fled from my kisses !
XXIII
THY beauty burns me as a breath of fire,
When thy hands touch me, all the world is compassed
Within the limits of their slender whiteness.
Where may I hide from this destroying rapture,
From this swift longing that engulfs my being ?
The city holds thee in its stress of living,
The forest holds thee in its leafy languors,
The day is thine, by right of summer gladness,
By the great sun that waketh men from slumber.
The night is thine, by all its throbbing ardour,
By all its stars, and by its myriad lovers !
Thy breath is in the wind across the gardens,
Thy voice is in the waves upon the pebbles,
Yea, the whole Earth is of thee, and in thee,
And all created things reflect thine image !
XXIV
JUNO'S cuckoo, calling, calling,
Turns the heart to thoughts of loving,
Fills the soul with endless longing !Through the woodland and the pasture
Comes the sound of waking summer,
Till the leaves and grasses tremble.Oh ! the magic of that magic,
Filled with such incessant sweetness,
How it stirs the eager sense !Come again, thou absent loved one,
I would see the almond blossoms
Falling on thy slender shoulders.
XXV
LO ! the gods have made much sweetness,
Deftly fashioned frond and blossom,
And above all else in beauty
They have fashioned thee !Thinkest thou, O foolsih maiden,
All their skill was spent for nothing?
Nay, I tell thee thou wert fashioned
By the gods for love !
XXVI
BEHOLD the wonder of that lonely star,
That climbs the heavens with silver-sandalled feet,
Serenely stepping through encirling space,
Bathed in the fire of white virginity.Thus, long ago wert thou a holy fire,
Virgin and fearless in thy loveliness;
Would that the gods had caught thee from the earth,
And set thee burning in Eternity !
XXVII
THROUGH the garden, through and over,
Fly the swallows, darting, soaring,
Blue-black wings against the morning,
Wings that cleave the light asunder.Who may count their endless numbers,
Such a host of eager creatures !
All the glory of the summer
Lies outspread before their vision.Thus my thoughts, like happy pilgrims,
Fly with swift persistent rapture
Over and around thy beauty,
O thou well-belovèd being !
XXVIII
NOW is the burning day fulfilled,
Her toils are ended, and the night
Steeped in cool darkness wanders through
The silence of the city ways.Now from the shadows stealing forth,
On eager softly-stepping feet,
The lovers hasten to the tryst
That Aphrodite smiles upon.And over all, the drifting moon
Bends sideways, listening through a cloud,
To the delicious limpid sound
Of fountains falling in our courts.
XXIX
IN the shade of myrtle bushes
Where the hidden water floweth,
There I heard a lone bird calling,
Pouring forth his soul in longing."All the earth is clothed in greenness,
Fruitful are the hills and valleys,
Where art thou, O my belovèd,
Whither beat thy wayward pinions?"But no answer to his singing
Broke the stillness of the noontide;
Lo ! the hidden water paused not,
Lo ! the myrtle bushes stirred not !
XXX
NOW has the bountiful Sun-God
Phoebus, the lovely immortal,
Driven his horses of fire
Through the heavens.Now have the maiden arisen,
Filled with the gladness of morning,
Gathering flowers from the meadows
For their tunics.How shall I make me a garland
Worthy of thee, my belovèd?
Lo ! I would fashion a raiment
Soft to thy tough.Infinite joy hath my spirit,
Wrapt in the glory of living !
O ye high gods and young maidens,
I love, I love !
XXXI
SWEET beyond measure the fragrance of pastures
Steeped in the rapture of newly-found morning.
What may I do but delight in thy glory,
Phoebus the Sun-God?Oft at the hour of the drowsy-eyed evening
Cometh a ripple of Sensuous music,
Shall I not dance to the tune of thy playing,
Pan of the forest?Endless the beauty and countless the pleasures
Lining the path of the fortunate mortal,
Shall I despise the rare gifts thou hast given,
O Aphrodite !I will rise up with the dawn on the hill-side,
Filling my heart with the splendour of living,
I will go forth in the cool of the twilight,
Singing and dancing.Into my hands will I gather creation,
Yea, as a cup will I fashion my two hands,
Pour forth the bountiful stream of thy nectar,
Ceres, the Mother !
XXXII
AS a lamp of fine crystal, wonderfully wrought,
Is the soul of the woman I love.
Behold the oil and the wick for the burning,
Yet the light of the lamp is sbsent.How may I knidle the soul of this woman,
With what torch may I touch it to flame?
Since love himself hath no part in her beauty
Nor findeth abode in her spirit?
XXXIII
ARTEMIS, Artemis, where goest thou?
The gold of the dawn is abreast of the hill,
And the pale moon gathers her robe for flight.In forests the birds are stirring from sleep,
And the swift brook mirrors the beams of the sun,
While the dew still clings to the flower.Behold the plentiful beauty of earth,
When the warmth of the summer stirreth the sap,
And the slim grass bendeth before the wind.Artemis, Artemis, why fliest thou?
Mine arms would encompass thy timorous limbs,
My kisses rivet a chain for thy feet !
XXXIV
THOU art the cloud that drifts towards the sunrise,
Thou art the wind of June among the branches,
Thou, the still lake close folded in the mountains,
Thou, the pale lily floating on its border.Thou art the song of birds in hidden places,
Thou art the spray flung high from falling water,
Thou, the pure coolness of the new-born morning,
Thou, the warm splendour of the burning midday.Thou art elusive as the sweetest music
Blown from the reed-pipes of the god at even,
Swift as the passing of the south wind's whisper,
Shy as the fawn that darts amid the bushes.How may I hold thee to my longing spirit,
Folding thee close that none may take thee from me?
Ah ! with what magic shall I bind thy beauty,
With what great deftness make thy soul my captive?
XXXV
O PAN thou mighty one!
God of the leafy world,
Pipe to her, pipe to her
Till she shall know the spell
Of thine enchantment.Deaf are her ears to thee,
Though all the eartth rejoice
Yet she rejoiceth not,
Laying no purple grapes
Upon thine alter.Bind her with ivy strands,
Compass her slender limbs
Holding her prisoner.
Bind her fastt, bind her feet
Against my coming!
XXXVI
LO! I have loved thy beauty over much,
Pouring my soul as wine into a cup,
Thatt thou shouldst drink thereof and be content.
Thou hastt but set thy lips against the rim,
Then cast the goblet from thee all undrained,
How shall I make the broken vessel whole,
How may I gather up the wasted wine?
XXXVII
REGRET, the all unbidden guest
Pale faced and silent entereth,
To sit att Love's most sacred feast,
Reproaching those who fain would eat.Between us ever like a ghost
We see him, and his falling tears
Drip one by one upon the board,
And mingle with tthe cup of wine.
XXXVIII
FROND of fern and dew-wet grasses,
Shaken leaves on slender branches,
Hidden places violet-mantled
Where the evening walks and ponders ;
These things make for much of sweetness
Much contentment.And behold the bird that lighteth
Singing on a spray of blossom,
And behold the soft-eyed wonder
Of the doe that hears thy footfall.
Hearken to the windy flute notes
Of the rushes !O ye poets, O ye lovers,
What a world the gods have made ye !
What good gifts and tender bounty
They have offered for thy pleasure !
Thou canst never sing too gladly
Love too deeply !
XXXIX
TAKE ship, my heart, while the tide is at fullest,
Take ship, my heart, for the high tide has risen.
Lose not the flow of the purposeful water,
Wait not the hour of thhe langourous evening.Rather go forth in the splendour of mid-day,
Girding thy loins with the beams of Apollo ;
Spread are the sails of thy fate-laden vessel,
Taut as a harp-string the cords of the masthead.Though thou art sorrowful, no beauty faileth,
Naught seemeth less to the gods who created ;
Scarce may thy 'plaint reachthe bird in his slumber,
Scarce may it stir the white dew on the grasses.Glad is the sea, and the feet of the summer
Thread fortth the perfumes from hillside and valley ;
Noon is still happy with rustle of forests,
Night is still lovely because of her planets.Foolish men seek to draw good out of sorrow,
Wise men admit him not unto their counsels,
Cowards may cling to the spars of the shipwreck,
They who have courage strike out for the haven.Therefore O heart, drain a cup to the future,
Let it be filled with the wine of adventure !
Fair is the wind that shall prosper thee seaward,
Good is the land that awaiteth thy coming !
XL
ON and on with heedless footfall,
Plucking blossoms by the wayside
That shall wither in thy hand--
Seeking that which no man findeth,
Finding that which no man seeketh,
Drinking deep the wine of pleasure,
Bitter to the taste.Hot with love and cold with passion,
Knowing in thy swift fulfilments
All thy longings unfulfilled,
Thou hast bruised the tender meadows,
Thou hast stript the dreaming forests,
Thou hast driven forth the song-birds
From their quiet nests.O thou mortal weary-minded,
Thou who wert alone created
As a pastime for the gods--When thou treadest thy sad measure
Making songs to ease thy spirit,
With the laughteron Olympus
Mingles falling tears !
XLI
I HAVE the song of wild birds in my spirit,
I have the happy sound of rushing water,
I have the scent of woods in early summer,
The tender solace of the opening blossoms.I have the glow of sunrise and of sunset,
I have the purple shadows on the valley ;
I would not be a God tho' it were offered--
Lest I should lose the joys bestowed on mortals !
XLII
WHEN the darkness starry-sandalled
Cometh to our quiet hill town,
When the maidens cease their singing,
And the young men rest their labour,
;Tis the hour that I would seek thee,
O thou loveliest of many !
While contentment in thy beauty
Steeps my soul with joy.I will come when none perceive me,
Softly treading through the shadows,
Stilling unto rest my heart-beats,
Hiding from the night my passion.
Shall I see the pale reflection
Of thy robe beneath the cypress ?
Shall I find thee at thy gateway,
Wilt thou light thy lamp for me ?
XLIII
WHEN thy robe, Narcissus-bordered
Falleth from thy gracious shoulders
Tp the earth, O Ceres.When the rivers re-awakened,
Leap and laugh within their channels,When the Spring's supreme enchantment
Stirs the world to sound of singing-------The, I pray thee, let no sadness
Mar the beauty of that music.Give to each that humbly asketh
Somewhat of thy tender bounty.Give to each the power of loving,
Let there be no lonely lover,
No--not even me !XLIV
THOUGH I may no longer love thee,
Thou who dost affront the Goddess
With the coldness of thy beauty,
Scorning love !Yet whne I behold the evening
Hanging forth her lamps of silver,
Dropping dew upon the iris
By the path.When I hear the trailing mantle
Of the wind amid the beech-wood,
Even as I heard thy footfall
Long ago--------Then the soul in me is quickened
To what sense of endless sorrow,
To remember thee, and know thee
As thou art !
XLV
HAS the swallow blue wings
Wings that bear him homeward ?
Is the sound of bird song
Rising from my garden ?Is the sun imprisoned
In the fountain's water ?
Does the air breathe softly
Link a child in slumber ?Is the grape vine graceful
With entwining tendrals ?
Does the evening linger
Lighting stars for lovers ?Sayest thou that all these
Touch the poet's fancy ?
Nay, I cannot feel them
Since I ceased to love !
XLVI
ONCE in the long ago,
I was Love's prisoner ;
Bound with a thousand chains,
Aching in spirit.Shepards piped through the fields,
Piped for sheer happiness.
Brooks laughed amid the rocks,
Laughed--and flowered seaward.Summer was on the land,
Laden with fruitfulness,
Green were the ilex trees
Casting cool shadows.Ah ! but my heart was dumb,
Stranger to joy or song,
All the sweet things of Earth
Turned it to weeping !
XLVIIII
SOON shall the jasmine-breathing Spring
Come to this valley from the South,
Folding the lily petals back
Against the fountain's marble rim.Soon shall the gardens stir and sigh
Like maidens dreaming in their sleep,
While from the purple judas trees
The blossoms drift towards the grass.Soon shall the lovers wander forth
Beneath the starlit spell of night,
But thou shalt never know these things--
Thou hast forgotten how to love !
XLIX
NOW for me the Spring is calling,
With a thousand eager voices,
Till I know not which to answer,
Voice of sun, or air, or water,
Or the leafy soft persistence
Of the trees that stir to windward.I will gather up this sweetness
All the sweetness of creation ;
All the fruitfulness of spring-time,
Sun, and air, and leaping water
Will I compass for my pleasure,
In the name of my belovèd !
L
I KNOW a bend in the hills where in summer
Wild doves are calling from wild cherry-branches ;
Softly they call through the haze of the noontide,
Sweet and persistent.White is the grass with anemone petals,
Fearless and happy the fawn stoops and grazes.
Over the moss of its delicate channel
Plays the clear water.There is that region of quiet contentment
There shall the lover forgetful of loving,
Turn to the merciful Earth that begat him
Child unto Mother !
LI
WHO may abide in the city
When daffodils gleam in the meadows,
Golden as armies in the sunlight
With helmets and banners ?Who may abide in the city
When larches are youthful and tender,
Green as a hope re-awakened,
And even as happy !Rivers flow flooding to seaward,
Clouds sweep across the wide heavens,
And my soul is one with these things,
My soul is as they are !
LII
WHEN from the fields of Heaven,
Night of the fragrant breath,
Stoops with soft whispering
Earthward, and loverward.When through the casement wide,
Wings of a gentle breeze,
Rustle the leaves of vine
Into low murmuring.When from the distant hills,
Dawn, shod in lovely gold,
Lingers beside the couch
Where I have slept with thee.Then am I loneliest,
Seeking in vain to find
Aught of response in thee
To the deep call of Earth.Ah ! butt thy clinging arms,
Lo ! thy appease me not,
Saddest of mortals I,
One whose soul walks alone.
LIII
THE earth, the sky, and the sea,
All these are mighty lovers.
Canst thou look up and behold
The whiteness of shaken stars
And know not desire ?Canst thou go forth in a ship,
Hearing the rush of the tide,
Watching the prow-cleft water
Surging away to shoreward--
And feel no response ?Mountains at earliest dawn
In the flush of awakening,
Are they not warm with delight
At the kiss of the sunrise,
Warm and replendent ?Yea, and the grass of the field
Bent to the soft-fingered wind,
Yea, and the timorous flocks,
And the shepards that tend them--
Feel these not the spell ?All things the kind gods create
Quiver to fire in the Spring,
Quicken to joy out of love
One for the other.Be thou more generous than these
Since thou art fairer then they--
Give of thy bountiful youth,
Pour forth the prodigal wine
On Love's high alter !
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