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moments of vision and miscellaneous verses-第5章

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That need not have come due
Had she been less unbending。
How near; near were we two
At that last vital rending; …
And neither of us knew!



TO MY FATHER'S VIOLIN



   Does he want you down there
   In the Nether Glooms where
The hours may be a dragging load upon him;
   As he hears the axle grind
      Round and round
   Of the great world; in the blind
      Still profound
Of the night…time?  He might liven at the sound
Of your string; revealing you had not forgone him。

   In the gallery west the nave;
   But a few yards from his grave;
Did you; tucked beneath his chin; to his bowing
   Guide the homely harmony
      Of the quire
   Who for long years strenuously …
      Son and sire …
Caught the strains that at his fingering low or higher
From your four thin threads and eff…holes came outflowing。

   And; too; what merry tunes
   He would bow at nights or noons
That chanced to find him bent to lute a measure;
   When he made you speak his heart
      As in dream;
   Without book or music…chart;
      On some theme
Elusive as a jack…o'…lanthorn's gleam;
And the psalm of duty shelved for trill of pleasure。

   Well; you can not; alas;
   The barrier overpass
That screens him in those Mournful Meads hereunder;
   Where no fiddling can be heard
      In the glades
   Of silentness; no bird
      Thrills the shades;
Where no viol is touched for songs or serenades;
No bowing wakes a congregation's wonder。

   He must do without you now;
   Stir you no more anyhow
To yearning concords taught you in your glory;
   While; your strings a tangled wreck;
      Once smart drawn;
   Ten worm…wounds in your neck;
      Purflings wan
With dust…hoar; here alone I sadly con
Your present dumbness; shape your olden story。

1916。



THE STATUE OF LIBERTY



   This statue of Liberty; busy man;
      Here erect in the city square;
I have watched while your scrubbings; this early morning;
         Strangely wistful;
         And half tristful;
      Have turned her from foul to fair;

   With your bucket of water; and mop; and brush;
      Bringing her out of the grime
That has smeared her during the smokes of winter
         With such glumness
         In her dumbness;
      And aged her before her time。

   You have washed her down with motherly care …
      Head; shoulders; arm; and foot;
To the very hem of the robes that drape her …
         All expertly
         And alertly;
      Till a long stream; black with soot;

   Flows over the pavement to the road;
      And her shape looms pure as snow:
I read you are hired by the City guardians …
         May be yearly;
         Or once merely …
      To treat the statues so?

   〃Oh; I'm not hired by the Councilmen
      To cleanse the statues here。
I do this one as a self…willed duty;
         Not as paid to;
         Or at all made to;
      But because the doing is dear。〃

   Ah; then I hail you brother and friend!
      Liberty's knight divine。
What you have done would have been my doing;
         Yea; most verily;
         Well; and thoroughly;
      Had but your courage been mine!

   〃Oh I care not for Liberty's mould;
      Liberty charms not me;
What's Freedom but an idler's vision;
         Vain; pernicious;
         Often vicious;
      Of things that cannot be!

   〃Memory it is that brings me to this …
      Of a daughtermy one sweet own。
She grew a famous carver's model;
         One of the fairest
         And of the rarest:…
      She sat for the figure as shown。

   〃But alas; she died in this distant place
      Before I was warned to betake
Myself to her side! 。 。 。 And in love of my darling;
         In love of the fame of her;
         And the good name of her;
      I do this for her sake。〃

   Answer I gave not。  Of that form
      The carver was I at his side;
His child; my model; held so saintly;
         Grand in feature;
         Gross in nature;
      In the dens of vice had died。



THE BACKGROUND AND THE FIGURE
(Lover's Ditty)



I think of the slope where the rabbits fed;
   Of the periwinks' rockwork lair;
Of the fuchsias ringing their bells of red …
   And the something else seen there。

Between the blooms where the sod basked bright;
   By the bobbing fuchsia trees;
Was another and yet more eyesome sight …
   The sight that richened these。

I shall seek those beauties in the spring;
   When the days are fit and fair;
But only as foils to the one more thing
   That also will flower there!



THE CHANGE



   Out of the past there rises a week …
      Who shall read the years O! …
   Out of the past there rises a week
      Enringed with a purple zone。
   Out of the past there rises a week
   When thoughts were strung too thick to speak;
And the magic of its lineaments remains with me alone。

   In that week there was heard a singing …
      Who shall spell the years; the years! …
   In that week there was heard a singing;
      And the white owl wondered why。
   In that week; yea; a voice was ringing;
   And forth from the casement were candles flinging
Radiance that fell on the deodar and lit up the path thereby。

   Could that song have a mocking note? …
      Who shall unroll the years O! …
   Could that song have a mocking note
      To the white owl's sense as it fell?
   Could that song have a mocking note
   As it trilled out warm from the singer's throat;
And who was the mocker and who the mocked when two felt all was well?

   In a tedious trampling crowd yet later …
      Who shall bare the years; the years! …
   In a tedious trampling crowd yet later;
      When silvery singings were dumb;
   In a crowd uncaring what time might fate her;
   Mid murks of night I stood to await her;
And the twanging of iron wheels gave out the signal that she was
come。

   She said with a travel…tired smile …
      Who shall lift the years O! …
   She said with a travel…tired smile;
      Half scared by scene so strange;
   She said; outworn by mile on mile;
   The blurred lamps wanning her face the while;
〃O Love; I am here; I am with you!〃 。 。 。 Ah; that there should have
come a change!

   O the doom by someone spoken …
      Who shall unseal the years; the years! …
   O the doom that gave no token;
      When nothing of bale saw we:
   O the doom by someone spoken;
   O the heart by someone broken;
The heart whose sweet reverberances are all time leaves to me。

Jan。…Feb。  1913。



SITTING ON THE BRIDGE
(Echo of an old song)



   Sitting on the bridge
   Past the barracks; town and ridge;
At once the spirit seized us
To sing a song that pleased us …
As 〃The Fifth〃 were much in rumour;
It was 〃Whilst I'm in the humour;
   Take me; Paddy; will you now?〃
   And a lancer soon drew nigh;
   And his Royal Irish eye
   Said; 〃Willing; faith; am I;
O; to take you anyhow; dears;
   To take you anyhow。〃

   But; lo!dad walking by;
   Cried; 〃What; you lightheels!  Fie!
   Is this the way you roam
   And mock the sunset gleam?〃
   And he marched us straightway home;
Though we said; 〃We are only; daddy;
Singing; 'Will you take me; Paddy?'〃
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