Not wholly this or that,
But wrought
Of alien bloods am I,
A product of the interplay
Of traveled hearts.
Estranged, yet not estranged, I stand
All comprehending;
From my estate
I view earth's frail dilemma;
Scion of fused strength am I,
All understanding,
Nor this nor that
Contains me.
Your lightest breath may fan my cheek
Your whisper stir me when you speak,
And yet—
The teeming planets play
Between your heart—and mine
Today.
Break, break my heart
For love is done,
The pale light trails the dying sun—
And night awaits—no hope—no stars
Darkness
Hide my scars!
When love’s triumphant day is done,
Go forward! leave me to the night
Beneath the coldly staring stars,
The waiting winter and its blight.
For I would never hold the heart
That mutely quivers to be free,
Unfurl your restless wings—away!
And leave the emptiness to me.
Fire—tears—
And the torture-chamber,
With the last maddening turn of the screw—
Only thus
Is one precious drop distilled
Of the attar of rose
Of the heart.
There was a time when Mother Nature made
My soul's sun, and my soul's shade.
A cloud in the sky could take away
The song in my heart for all day,
And a little lark in a willow-tree
Would mean happiness to me.
My moods would mirror all her whims ;
Trees were my strength : their limbs, my limbs.
But, oh, my mother tortured me,
Blowing with wind, and sighing with sea.
I flamed, I withered, I blossomed, I sang,
With her I suffered pang for pang,
Until I said: "I will grow my own tree
Where no natural wind will bother me."
And I grew me a willow of my own heart's strength,
With my will for its width, and my wish for its length :
Other hearts have broken gracefully, for your sake,
And now your eyes reproach me that my ache
Is awkward, and my arms
Are angular across my breast
Where emptiness is pressed.
The white lotus-flower
Grows in the depths of the pool,
Love grows in my heart.
You have made my voice
A rippling laugh
But my heart
A crying thing ...
’Tis better thus:
A fleeting kiss
And then,
The dark....
So begins the day,
Solid, chill, and grey,
But my heart will wake
Happy for your sake;
Singing like a child,
No more tossed and wild,
Quiet as a flower
In this first grey hour.
So my heart will wake
Happy, for your sake.
Too high, too high to pluck
My heart shall swing.
A fruit no bee shall suck,
No wasp shall sting.
If on some night of cold
It falls to ground
In apple-leaves of gold
I'll wrap it round.
And I shall seal it up
With spice and salt,
In a carven silver cup,
In a deep vault.
Before my eyes are blind
And my lips mute,
I must eat core and rind
Of that same fruit.
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more;
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!