Katherine Mansfield

The candle is a fairy house That’s smooth and round and white, And Mother carries it about Whenever it is night.

Right at the top a fairy lives, A lovely yellow one, And if you blow a little bit It has all sorts of fun.

It bows and dances by itself In such a clever way, And then it stretches very tall; “Well, it grows fast,” you say.

The little chimney of the house Is black and really sweet, And there the candle fairy stands Though you can’t see its feet.

And when the dark is very big And you’ve been having dreams, Then Mother brings the candle in; How friendly like it seems!

It’s only just for Mothers that The candle Fairy comes; And if you play with it, it bites Your fingers and your thumbs.

But still you love it very much This candle Fairy, dear, Because, at night, it always means That Mother’s very near.

O valley of waving broom, O lovely, lovely light, O heart of the world, red-gold! Breast high in the blossom I stand; It beats about me like waves Of a magical, golden sea.

The barren heart of the world Alive at the kiss of the sun, The yellow mantle of Summer Flung over a laughing land, Warm with the warmth of her body, Sweet with the kiss of her breath.

O valley of waving broom, O lovely, lovely light, O mystical marriage of Earth With the passionate Summer sun! To her lover she holds a cup And the yellow wine o’erflows. He has lighted a little torch And the whole of the world is ablaze. Prodigal wealth of love! Breast high in the blossom I stand.

Our quarrel seemed a giant thing, It made the room feel mean and small, The books, the lamp, the furniture, The very pictures on the wall--

Crowded upon us as we sat Pale and terrified, face to face. “Why do you stay?” she said, “my room Can never be your resting place.”

“Katinka, ere we part for life, I pray you walk once more with me.” So down the dark, familiar road We paced together, silently.

The sky--it seemed on fire with stars! I said:--“Katinka dear, look up!” Like thirsty children, both of us Drank from that giant loving cup.

“Who were those dolls?” Katinka said. “What were their stupid, vague alarms?” And suddenly we turned and laughed And rushed into each other’s arms.

Now it is Loneliness who comes at night Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed. Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread, I watch her softly blowing out the light. Motionless sitting, neither left nor right She turns, and weary, weary droops her head. She, too, is old; she, too, has fought the fight. So, with the laurel she is garlanded.

Through the sad dark the slowly ebbing tide Breaks on a barren shore, unsatisfied. A strange wind flows ... then silence. I am fain To turn to Loneliness, to take her hand, Cling to her, waiting, till the barren land Fills with the dreadful monotone of rain.

We started speaking, Looked at each other, then turned away. The tears kept rising to my eyes But I could not weep. I wanted to take your hand But my hand trembled. You kept counting the days Before we should meet again. But both of us felt in our hearts That we parted for ever and ever. The ticking of the little clock filled the quiet room. “Listen,” I said. “It is so loud, Like a horse galloping on a lonely road, As loud as that--a horse galloping past in the night.” You shut me up in your arms. But the sound of the clock stifled our hearts’ beating. You said, “I cannot go: all that is living of me Is here for ever and ever.” Then you went. The world changed. The sound of the clock grew fainter, Dwindled away, became a minute thing. I whispered in the darkness, “If it stops, I shall die.”

A gulf of silence separates us from each other. I stand at one side of the gulf, you at the other. I cannot see you or hear you, yet know that you are there. Often I call you by your childish name And pretend that the echo to my crying is your voice. How can we bridge the gulf? Never by speech or touch. Once I thought we might fill it quite up with tears. Now I want to shatter it with our laughter.

Across the red sky two birds flying, Flying with drooping wings. Silent and solitary their ominous flight. All day the triumphant sun with yellow banners Warred and warred with the earth, and when she yielded Stabbed her heart, gathered her blood in a chalice, Spilling it over the evening sky. When the dark plumaged birds go flying, flying, Quiet lies the earth wrapt in her mournful shadow, Her sightless eyes turned to the red sky And the restlessly seeking birds.

The gulls are mad-in-love with the river, And the river unveils her face and smiles. In her sleep-brooding eyes they mirror their shining wings. She lies on silver pillows: the sun leans over her. He warms and warms her, he kisses and kisses her. There are sparks in her hair and she stirs in laughter. Be careful, my beautiful waking one! you will catch on fire. Wheeling and flying with the foam of the sea on their breasts, The ineffable mists of the sea clinging to their wild wings, Crying the rapture of the boundless ocean, The gulls are mad-in-love with the river. Wake! we are the dream thoughts flying from your heart. Wake! we are the songs of desire flowing from your bosom. O, I think the sun will lend her his great wings And the river will fly away to the sea with the mad-in-love birds.