Canzoni & Ripostes

Canzoni & Ripostes - Whereto are appended the Complete Poetical Works of T.E. Hulme

CONTENTS CANZON: THE YEARLY SLAIN CANZON: THE SPEAR CANZON: TO BE SUNG BENEATH A WINDOW CANZON: OF INCENSE CANZONE: OF ANGELS TO OUR LADY OF VICARIOUS ATONEMENT TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI SONNET IN TENZONE SONNET: CHI QUESTA? BALLATA, FRAGMENT CANZON: THE VISION OCTAVE SONNET: THE TALLY-BOARD BALLATETTA MADRIGALE ERA MEA THRENOS THE TREE PARACELSUS IN EXCELSIS DE AEGYPTO LI BEL CHASTEUS PRAYER FOR HIS LADY'S LIFE (FROM PROPERTIUS) PSYCHE OF EROS "BLANDULA, TENULLA, VAGULA" ERAT HORA EPIGRAMS. I. II. (THE SEA OF GLASS) LA NUVOLETTA ROSA SEMPITERNA THE GOLDEN SESTINA ROME (FROM DU BELLAY) HER IMAGE (FROM LEOPARDI) VICTORIAN ECLOGUES. I. II. SATIEMUS III. ABELARD A PROLOGUE MAESTRO DI TOCAR ARIA L'ART SONG IN THE MANNER OF HOUSMAN HEINE, TRANSLATIONS FROM UND DRANG I Ah! red-leafed time hath driven out the rose And crimson dew is fallen on the leaf Ere ever yet the cold white wheat be sown That hideth all earth's green and sere and red; The Moon-flower's fallen and the branch is bare, Holding no honey for the starry bees; The Maiden turns to her dark lord's demesne. II Fairer than Enna's field when Ceres sows The stars of hyacinth and puts off grief, Fairer than petals on May morning blown Through apple-orchards where the sun hath shed His brighter petals down to make them fair; Fairer than these the Poppy-crowned One flees, And Joy goes weeping in her scarlet train. III The faint damp wind that, ere the even, blows Piling the west with many a tawny sheaf, Then when the last glad wavering hours are mown Sigheth and dies because the day is sped; This wind is like her and the listless air Wherewith she goeth by beneath the trees, The trees that mock her with their scarlet stain. IV Love that is born of Time and comes and goes! Love that doth hold all noble hearts in fief! As red leaves follow where the wind hath flown, So all men follow Love when Love is dead. O Fate of Wind! O Wind that cannot spare, But drivest out the Maid, and pourest lees Of all thy crimson on the wold again, V Kor my heart is, let it stand sans gloze! Love's pain is long, and lo, love's joy is brief! My heart erst alway sweet is bitter grown; As crimson ruleth in the good green's stead, So grief hath taken all mine old joy's share And driven forth my solace and all ease Where pleasure bows to all-usurping pain. VI Crimson the hearth where one last ember glows! My heart's new winter hath no such relief, Nor thought of Spring whose blossom he hath known Hath turned him back where Spring is banished. Barren the heart and dead the fires there, Blow! O ye ashes, where the winds shall please, But cry, "Love also is the Yearly Slain." VII Be sped, my Canzon, through the bitter air! To him who speaketh words as fair as these, Say that I also know the "Yearly Slain." CANZON: THE SPEAR I 'Tis the clear light of love I praise That steadfast gloweth o'er deep waters, A clarity that gleams always. Though man's soul pass through troubled waters, Strange ways to him are opend. To shore the beaten ship is sped If only love of light give aid. II That fair far spear of light now lays Its long gold shaft upon the waters. Ah! might I pass upon its rays To where it gleams beyond the waters, Or might my troubled heart be fed Upon the frail clear light there shed, Then were my pain at last allay'd. III Although the clouded storm dismays Many a heart upon these waters, The thought of that far golden blaze Giveth me heart upon the waters, Thinking thereof my bark is led To port wherein no storm I dread; No tempest maketh me afraid. IV Yet when within my heart I gaze Upon my fair beyond the waters, Meseems my soul within me prays To pass straightway beyond the waters. Though I be alway banished From ways and woods that she doth tread, One thing there is that doth not fade, V Deep in my heart that spear-print stays, That wound I gat beyond the waters, Deeper with passage of the days That pass as swift and bitter waters, While a dull fire within my head Moveth itself if word be said Which hath concern with that far maid. VI My love is lovelier than the sprays Of eglantine above clear waters, Or whitest lilies that upraise Their heads in midst of moated waters. No poppy in the May-glad mead Would match her quivering lips' red If 'gainst her lips it should be laid. VII The light within her eyes, which slays Base thoughts and stilleth troubled waters, Is like the gold where sunlight plays Upon the still o'ershadowed waters. When anger is there mingled There comes a keener gleam instead, Like flame that burns beneath thin jade. VIII Know by the words here mingled What love hath made my heart his stead, Glowing like flame beneath thin jade. CANZON TO BE SUNG BENEATH A WINDOW I Heart mine, art mine, whose embraces Clasp but wind that past thee bloweth E'en this air so subtly gloweth, Guerdoned by thy sun-gold traces, That my heart is half afraid For the fragrance on him laid; Even so love's might amazes! II Man's love follows many faces, My love only one face knoweth; Towards thee only my love floweth, And outstrips the swift stream's paces. Were this love well here displayed, As flame flameth 'neath thin jade Love should glow through these my phrases. III Though I've roamed through many places, None there is that my heart troweth Fair as that wherein fair groweth One whose laud here interlaces Tuneful words, that I've essayed. Let this tune be gently played Which my voice herward upraises. IV If my praise her grace effaces, Then 'tis not my heart that showeth, But the skilless tongue that soweth Words unworthy of her graces. Tongue, that hath me so betrayed, Were my heart but here displayed, Then were sung her fitting praises. CANZON: OF INCENSE I Thy gracious ways, O Lady of my heart, have O'er all my thought their golden glamour cast; As amber torch-flames, where strange men-at-arms Tread softly 'neath the damask shield of night, Rise from the flowing steel in part reflected, So on my mailed thought that with thee goeth, Though dark the way, a golden glamour falleth. II The censer sways And glowing coals some art have To free what frankincense before held fast Till all the summer of the eastern farms Doth dim the sense, and dream up through the light, As memory, by new-born love corrected With savour such as only new love knoweth Through swift dim ways the hidden pasts recalleth. III On barren days, At hours when I, apart, have Bent low in thought of the great charm thou hast, Behold with music's many-stringed charms The silence groweth thou. O rare delight! The melody upon clear strings inflected Were dull when o'er taut sense thy presence floweth, With quivering notes' accord that never palleth. IV The glowing rays That from the low sun dart, have Turned gold each tower and every towering mast; The saffron flame, that flaming nothing harms Hides Khadeeth's pearl and all the sapphire might Of burnished waves, before her gates collected: The cloak of graciousness, that round thee gloweth, Doth hide the thing thou art, as here befalleth. V All things worth praise That unto Khadeeth's mart have From far been brought through perils over-passed, All santal, myrrh, and spikenard that disarms The pard's swift anger; these would weigh but light 'Gainst thy delights, my Khadeeth! Whence protected By naught save her great grace that in him showeth, My song goes forth and on her mercy calleth. VI O censer of the thought that golden gloweth, Be bright before her when the evening falleth. VII Fragrant be thou as a new field one moweth, O song of mine that "Hers" her mercy calleth. CANZONE: OF ANGELS I He that is Lord of all the realms of light Hath unto me from His magnificence Granted such vision as hath wrought my joy. Moving my spirit past the last defence That shieldeth mortal things from mightier sight, Where freedom of the soul knows no alloy, I saw what forms the lordly powers employ; Three splendours, saw I, of high holiness, From clarity to clarity ascending Through all the roofless, tacit courts extending In aether which such subtle light doth bless As ne'er the candles of the stars hath wooed; Know ye herefrom of their similitude. II Withdrawn within the cavern of his wings, Grave with the joy of thoughts beneficent, And finely wrought and durable and clear, If so his eyes showed forth the mind's content, So sate the first to whom remembrance clings, Tissued like bat's wings did his wings appear, Not of that shadowy colouring and drear, But as thin shells, pale saffron, luminous; Alone, unlonely, whose calm glances shed Friend's love to strangers though no word were said, Pensive his godly state he keepeth thus. Not with his surfaces his power endeth, But is as flame that from the gem extendeth. III My second marvel stood not in such ease, But he, the cloudy pinioned, winged him on Then from my sight as now from memory, The courier aquiline, so swiftly gone! The third most glorious of these majesties Give aid, O sapphires of th' eternal see, And by your light illume pure verity. That azure feldspar hight the microcline, Or, on its wing, the Menelaus weareth Such subtlety of shimmering as beareth This marvel onward through the crystalline, A splendid calyx that about her gloweth, Smiting the sunlight on whose ray she goeth. IV The diver at Sorrento from beneath The vitreous indigo, who swiftly riseth, By will and not by action as it seemeth, Moves not more smoothly, and no thought surmiseth How she takes motion from the lustrous sheath Which, as the trace behind the swimmer, gleameth Yet presseth back the aether where it streameth. To her whom it adorns this sheath imparteth The living motion from the light surrounding; And thus my nobler parts, to grief's confounding, Impart into my heart a peace which starteth From one round whom a graciousness is cast Which clingeth in the air where she hath past. VTORNATA Canzon, to her whose spirit seems in sooth Akin unto the feldspar, since it is So clear and subtle and azure, I send thee, saying: That since I looked upon such potencies And glories as are here inscribed in truth, New boldness hath o'erthrown my long delaying, And that thy words my new-born powers obeying Voices at last to voice my heart's long mood Are come to greet her in their amplitude. TO OUR LADY OF VICARIOUS ATONEMENT (BALLATA) I Who are you that the whole world's song Is shaken out beneath your feet Leaving you comfortless, Who, that, as wheat Is garnered, gather in The blades of man's sin And bear that sheaf? Lady of wrong and grief, Blameless! II All souls beneath the gloom That pass with little flames, All these till time be run Pass one by one As Christs to save, and die; What wrong one sowed, Behold, another reaps! Where lips awake our joy The sad heart sleeps Within. No man doth bear his sin, But many sins Are gathered as a cloud about man's way. TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI Dante and I are come to learn of thee, Ser Guido of Florence, master of us all, Love, who hath set his hand upon us three, Bidding us twain upon thy glory call. Harsh light hath rent from us the golden pall Of that frail sleep, His first light seigniory, And we are come through all the modes that fall Unto their lot who meet him constantly. Wherefore, by right, in this Lord's name we greet thee, Seeing we labour at his labour daily. Thou, who dost know what way swift words are crossed O thou, who hast sung till none at song defeat thee, Grant! by thy might and hers of San Michele, Thy risen voice send flames this pentecost. SONNET IN TENZONE LA MENTE "O Thou mocked heart that cowerest by the door And durst not honour hope with welcoming, How shall one bid thee for her honour sing, When song would but show forth thy sorrow's store? What things are gold and ivory unto thee? Go forth, thou pauper fool! Are these for naught? Is heaven in lotus leaves? What hast thou wrought, Or brought, or sought, wherewith to pay the fee?" IL CUORE "If naught I give, naught do I take return. 'Ronsard me celebroit!' behold I give The age-old, age-old fare to fairer fair And I fare forth into more bitter air; Though mocked I go, yet shall her beauty live Till rimes unrime and Truth shall truth unlearn." SONNET: CHI QUESTA? Who is she coming, that the roses bend Their shameless heads to do her passing honour? Who is she coming with a light upon her Not born of suns that with the day's end end? Say is it Love who hath chosen the nobler part? Say is it Love, that was divinity, Who hath left his godhead that his home might be The shameless rose of her unclouded heart? If this be Love, where hath he won such grace? If this be Love, how is the evil wrought, That all men write against his darkened name? If this be Love, if this ... O mind give place! What holy mystery e'er was noosed in thought? Own that thou scan'st her not, nor count it shame! BALLATA, FRAGMENT II Full well thou knowest, song, what grace I mean, E'en as thou know'st the sunlight I have lost. Thou knowest the way of it and know'st the sheen About her brows where the rays are bound and crossed, E'en as thou knowest joy and know'st joy's bitter cost. Thou know'st her grace in moving, Thou dost her skill in loving, Thou know'st what truth she proveth, Thou knowest the heart she moveth, O song where grief assoneth! CANZON: THE VISION I When first I saw thee 'neath the silver mist, Ruling thy bark of painted sandal-wood, Did any know thee? By the golden sails That clasped the ribbands of that azure sea, Did any know thee save my heart alone? O ivory woman with thy bands of gold, Answer the song my luth and I have brought thee! II Dream over golden dream that secret cist, Thy heart, O heart of me, doth hold, and mood On mood of silver, when the day's light fails, Say who hath touched the secret heart of thee, Or who hath known what my heart hath not known O slender pilot whom the mists enfold, Answer the song my luth and I have wrought thee! III When new love plucks the falcon from his wrist, And cuts the gyve and casts the scarlet hood, Where is the heron heart whom flight avails? O quick to prize me Love, how suddenly From out the tumult truth has ta'en his own, And in this vision is our past unrolled. Lo! With a hawk of light thy love hath caught me. IV And I shall get no peace from eucharist, Nor doling out strange prayers before the rood, To match the peace that thine hands' touch entails; Nor doth God's light match light shed over me When thy caught sunlight is about me thrown, Oh, for the very ruth thine eyes have told, Answer the rune this love of thee hath taught me. V After an age of longing had we missed Our meeting and the dream, what were the good Of weaving cloth of words? Were jewelled tales An opiate meet to quell the malady Of life unlived? In untried monotone Were not the earth as vain, and dry, and old, For thee, O Perfect Light, had I not sought thee? VI Calais, in song where word and tone keep tryst Behold my heart, and hear mine hardihood! Calais, the wind is come and heaven pales And trembles for the love of day to be. Calais, the words break and the dawn is shown. Ah, but the stars set when thou wast first bold, Turn! lest they say a lesser light distraught thee. VII O ivory thou, the golden scythe hath mown Night's stubble and my joy. Thou royal souled, Favour the quest! Lo, Truth and I have sought thee OCTAVE Fine songs, fair songs, these golden usuries A Her beauty earns as but just increment, And they do speak with a most ill intent Who say they give when they pay debtor's fees. I call him bankrupt in the courts of song Who hath her gold to eye and pays her not, Defaulter do I call the knave who hath got Her silver in his heart, and doth her wrong. SONNET If on the tally-board of wasted days They daily write me for proud idleness, Let high Hell summons me, and I confess, No overt act the preferred charge allays. To-day I thoughtwhat boots it what I thought? Poppies and gold! Why should I blurt it out? Or hawk the magic of her name about Deaf doors and dungeons where no truth is bought? Who calls me idle? I have thought of her. Who calls me idle? By God's truth I've seen The arrowy sunlight in her golden snares. Let him among you all stand summonser Who hath done better things! Let whoso hath been With worthier works concerned, display his wares! BALLATETTA The light became her grace and dwelt among Blind eyes and shadows that are formed as men Lo, how the light doth melt us into song: The broken sunlight for a healm she beareth Who hath my heart in jurisdiction. In wild-wood never fawn nor fallow fareth So silent light; no gossamer is spun So delicate as she is, when the sun Drives the clear emeralds from the bended grasses Lest they should parch too swiftly, where she passes. MADRIGALE Clear is my love but shadowed By the spun gold above her, Ah, what a petal those bent sheaths discover! The olive wood hath hidden her completely. She was gowned that discreetly The leaves and shadows concealed her completely. Fair is my love but followed In all her goings surely By gracious thoughts, she goeth so demurely. ERA MEA Era mea In qua terra Dulce myrti floribus, Rosa amoris Via erroris Ad te coram Veniam? ANGLIC REDDITA Mistress mine, in what far land, Where the myrtle bloweth sweet Shall I weary with my way-fare, Win to thee that art as day fair, Lay my roses at thy feet? THRENOS No more for us the little sighing, No more the winds at twilight trouble us. Lo the fair dead! No more do I burn. No more for us the fluttering of wings That whirred in the air above us. Lo the fair dead! No more desire flayeth me, No more for us the trembling At the meeting of hands. Lo the fair dead! No more for us the wine of the lips, No more for us the knowledge. Lo the fair dead! No more the torrent, No more for us the meeting-place (Lo the fair dead!) Tintagoel. THE TREE I stood still and was a tree amid the wood, Knowing the truth of things unseen before; Of Daphne and the laurel bow And that god-feasting couple old That grew elm-oak amid the wold. 'Twas not until the gods had been Kindly entreated, and been brought within Unto the hearth of their heart's home That they might do this wonder thing; Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood And many a new thing understood That was rank folly to my head before. PARACELSUS IN EXCELSIS "Being no longer human why should I Pretend humanity or don the frail attire? Men have I known, and men, but never one Was grown so free an essence, or become So simply element as what I am. The mist goes from the mirror and I see! Behold! the world of forms is swept beneath Turmoil grown visible beneath our peace, And we, that are grown formless, rise above Fluids intangible that have been men, We seem as statues round whose high-risen base Some overflowing river is run mad, In us alone the element of calm!" DE AEGYPTO I even I, am he who knoweth the roads Through the sky, and the wind thereof is my body. I have beheld the Lady of Life, I, even I, who fly with the swallows. Green and gray is her raiment, Trailing along the wind. I, even I, am he who knoweth the roads Through the sky, and the wind thereof is my body. Manus animam pinxit, My pen is in my hand To write the acceptable word.... My mouth to chant the pure singing! Who hath the mouth to receive it, The song of the Lotus of Kumi? I, even I, am he who knoweth the roads Through the sky, and the wind thereof is my body. I am flame that riseth in the sun, I, even I, who fly with the swallows. The moon is upon my forehead, The winds are under my lips. The moon is a great pearl in the waters of sapphire, Cool to my fingers the flowing waters. I, even I, am he who knoweth the roads Through the sky, and the wind thereof is my body. I will return to the halls of the flowing, Of the truth of the children of Ashu. I, even I, am he who knoweth the roads Of the sky, and the wind thereof is my body. LI BEL CHASTEUS That castle stands the highest in the land Far seen and mighty. Of the great hewn stones What shall I say? And deep foss way That far beneath us bore of old A swelling turbid sea Hill-born and tumultuous Unto the fields below, where Staunch villein and Burgher held the land and tilled Long labouring for gold of wheat grain And to see the beards come forth For barley's even time. But archd high above the curl of life We dwelt amid the ancient boulders, Gods had hewn and druids turned Unto that birth most wondrous, that had grown A mighty fortress while the world had slept, And we awaited in the shadows there When mighty hands had laboured sightlessly And shaped this wonder 'bove the ways of men. Me seems we could not see the great green waves Nor rocky shore by Tintagoel From this our hold, But came faint murmuring as undersong, E'en as the burghers' hum arose And died as faint wind melody Beneath our gates. PRAYER FOR HIS LADY'S LIFE FROM PROPERTIUS, ELEGIAE, LIB. III, 26 Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness. So many thousand beauties are gone down to Avernus Ye might let one remain above with us. With you is Iope, with you the white-gleaming Tyro, With you is Europa and the shameless Pasiphae, And all the fair from Troy and all from Achaia, From the sundered realms, of Thebes and of aged Priamus; And all the maidens of Rome, as many as they were, They died and the greed of your flame consumes them. Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness. So many thousand fair are gone down to Avernus, Ye might let one remain above with us. SPEECH FOR PSYCHE IN THE GOLDEN BOOK OF APULEIUS All night, and as the wind lieth among The cypress trees, he lay, Nor held me save as air that brusheth by one Close, and as the petals of flowers in falling Waver and seem not drawn to earth, so he Seemed over me to hover light as leaves And closer me than air, And music flowing through me seemed to open Mine eyes upon new colours. O winds, what wind can match the weight of him! "BLANDULA, TENULLA, VAGULA." What hast thou, O my soul, with paradise? Will we not rather, when our freedom's won, Get us to some clear place wherein the sun Lets drift in on us through the olive leaves A liquid glory? If at Sirmio My soul, I meet thee, when this life's outrun, Will we not find some headland consecrated By aery apostles of terrene delight, Will not our cult be founded on the waves, Clear sapphire, cobalt, cyanine, On triune azures, the impalpable Mirrors unstill of the eternal change? Soul, if She meet us there, will any rumour Of havens more high and courts desirable Lure us beyond the cloudy peak of Riva? ERAT HORA "Thank you, whatever comes." And then she turned And, as the ray of sun on hanging flowers Fades when the wind hath lifted them aside, Went swiftly from me. Nay, whatever comes One hour was sunlit and the most high gods May not make boast of any better thing Than to have watched that hour as it passed. EPIGRAMS I O ivory, delicate hands! O face that hovers Between "To-come" and "Was," Ivory thou wast, A rose thou wilt be. II (THE SEA OF GLASS) I looked and saw a sea roofed over with rainbows, In the midst of each two lovers met and departed; Then the sky was full of faces with gold glories behind them. LA NUVOLETTA "Dante to an unknown lady, beseeching her not to interrupt his cult of the dead Beatrice. From "Il Canzoniere," Ballata II. Ah little cloud that in Love's shadow lief Upon mine eyes so suddenly alightest, Take some faint pity on the heart thou smitest That hopes in thee, desires, dies, in brief. Ah little cloud of more than human fashion Thou settest a flame within my mind's mid space With thy deathly speech that grieveth; Then as a fiery spirit in thy ways Createst hope, in part a rightful passion, Yet where thy sweet smile giveth His grace, look not! For in Her my faith liveth. Think on my high desire whose flame's so great That nigh a thousand who were come too late, Have felt the torment of another's grief. ROSA SEMPITERNA A rose I set within my "Paradise" Lo how his red is turned to yellowness, Not withered but grown old in subtler wise Between the empaged rime's high holiness Where Dante sings of that rose's device Which yellow is, with souls in blissfulness. Rose whom I set within my paradise, Donor of roses and of parching sighs, Of golden lights and dark unhappiness, Of hidden chains and silvery joyousness, Hear how thy rose within my Dante lies, O rose I set within my paradise. THE GOLDEN SESTINA FROM THE ITALIAN OF PICO DELLA MIRANDOLA In the bright season when He, most high Jove, From welkin reaching down his glorying hand, Decks the Great Mother and her changing face, Clothing her not with scarlet skeins and gold But with th' empurpling flowers and gay grass, When the young year renewed, renews the sun, When, then, I see a lady like the sun, One fashioned by th' high hand of utmost Jove, So fair beneath the myrtles on gay grass Who holdeth Love and Truth, one by each hand, It seems, if I look straight, two bands of gold Do make more fair her delicate fair face. Though eyes are dazzled, looking on her face As all sight faileth that looks toward the sun, New metamorphoses, to rained gold, Or bulls or whitest swans, might fall on Jove Through her, or Phoebus, his bag-pipes in hand, Might, mid the droves, come barefoot o'er our grass, Alas, that there was hidden in the grass A cruel shaft, the which, to wound my face, My Lady took in her own proper hand. If I could not defend me 'gainst that sun I take no shame, for even utmost Jove Is in high heaven pierced with darts of gold. Behold the green shall find itself turned gold And spring shall be without her flowers and grass, And hell's deep be the dwelling place of Jove Ere I shall have uncarved her holy face From my heart's midst, where 'tis both Sun and sun And yet she beareth me such hostile hand! O sweet and holy and O most light hand, O intermingled ivory and gold, O mortal goddess and terrestrial sun Who comest not to foster meadow grass, But to show heaven by a likened face Wert sent amongst us by th' exalted Jove, I still pray Jove that he permit no grass To cover o'er thy hands, thy face, thy gold For heaven's sufficed with a single sun. ROME FROM THE FRENCH OF JOACHIM DU BELLAY "Troica Roma resurges." PROPERTIUS. O thou new comer who seek'st Rome in Rome And find'st in Rome no thing thou canst call Roman; Arches worn old and palaces made common, Rome's name alone within these walls keeps home. Behold how pride and ruin can befall One who hath set the whole world 'neath her laws, All-conquering, now conquered, because She is Time's prey and Time consumeth all. Rome that art Rome's one sole last monument, Rome that alone hast conquered Rome the town, Tiber alone, transient and seaward bent, Remains of Rome. O world, thou unconstant mime! That which stands firm in thee Time batters down, And that which fleeteth doth outrun swift time. HER MONUMENT, THE IMAGE CUT THEREON FROM THE ITALIAN OF LEOPARDI (Written 1831-3 circa) Such wast thou, Who art now But buried dust and rusted skeleton. Above the bones and mire, Motionless, placed in vain, Mute mirror of the flight of speeding years, Sole guard of grief Sole guard of memory Standeth this image of the beauty sped. O glance, when thou wast still as thou art now, How hast thou set the fire A-tremble in men's veins; O lip curved high To mind me of some urn of full delight, O throat girt round of old with swift desire, O palms of Love, that in your wonted ways Not once but many a day Felt hands turn ice a-sudden, touching ye, That ye were once! of all the grace ye had That which remaineth now Shameful, most sad Finds 'neath this rock fit mould, fit resting place! And still when ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 39783
Author: Hulme, T. E. (Thomas Ernest)
Release Date: May 24, 2012
Format: eBook
Language: English

Contributors

Contributor (Author): Pound, Ezra, 1885-1972